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iambutmortal · 5 months

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This Is the Part You Get Left Behind

Summary: When Elain finds out her boyfriend is cheating on her, she decides sex with his roommate is the best way to get revenge.

Pairing: Elucien

Word Count: 2.5k

Authors Note: @vulpes-fennec Merry Christmas! I'm not your original Secret Santa, but I wanted to make sure you still got something for Christmas. Thank you for being such a great friend this year, I loved getting to know you better. You mentioned wanting a college AU, so I hope this fits the bill. Also, the biggest of all thanks to the amazing talented stunning @velidewrites for making the moodboard, we don't deserve your talents. @acotargiftexchange

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Elain swallowed down her mounting anxiety and pasted on a smile, the one she spent hours in the mirror perfecting. The smile Graysen said had made him notice her, when her picture had been posted on her sorority’s Instagram.

As she crept down the hall, she tugged on the hem of her jacket, checking once again that it was covering her utter lack of clothing. She felt stupid, walking into the men's dorm at Prythian University in nothing but lingerie and a trench coat, like someone out of a cheap porno, but she wanted to do something nice for Graysen on their three month anniversary.

They were supposed to go to dinner, the nice one people took their parents to for parents weekend, but Graysen had canceled at the last minute, citing an investment club meeting. Which Elain was fine with, especially since Graysen reminded her constantly how important meeting attendance was.

His future in investment banking depended on a college club, apparently.

So Elain had swallowed down her disappointment and begged her older sister Nesta to buy a bottle of champagne, slid on the set of lacy white underwear she’d bought specifically for tonight, put only her jacket on top, and set out to surprise him.

If she couldn’t get dinner out of their anniversary, the least she could get was good sex.

Or mediocre sex, Graysen was about as good as one could expect out of a twenty year old college student. Which meant Elain having to sneak into the bathroom to finish herself off more often than not.

Elain squared her shoulders when she reached Graysen’s door, and checked her phone. Six thirty, plenty of time for Graysen to get back from his meeting.

This was the boldest she’d ever been in their relationship, showing up unannounced, but Graysen always complained she was too timid. Except for the few times she’d tried to take control during sex and he’d gotten upset, complaining that she didn’t do it right when she got on top.

Elain triple checked to make sure no one was coming before unbuttoning her jacket, leaving her utterly exposed in the hallway. She hoisted the champagne bottle up, an offering, and knocked.

It felt like an eternity ticked by as she waited for Graysen, standing there shivering in the cool air of the hallway. They probably kept the dorms cold to deter stupid girls from showing up outside of their boyfriends doors wearing nothing but a thong and bra.

Elain was ready to text Graysen and ask where on earth he was and the door opened.

Revealing a very shirtless, very confused looking Lucien Vanserra.

On an abstract level, Elain knew that Graysen had a roommate, heard him complain about Lucien enough times. She also knew, hypothetically, who Lucien Vanserra was. Everyone on campus did, he was captain of the rowing team, the one sport Prythian could claim any success in.

None of that had prepared her to actually see him. The idea that he could be home had never even crossed her mind. The few times she’d previously been over were when Lucien was out, traveling for some away regatta.

“Elain?” Lucien asked, clearly very confused by her lack of proper attire.

The fact that he knew her name made it worse, and Elain prayed fervently for a crack to open up in the ugly gray carpet and swallow her up.

“Is Graysen here?” she squeaked out.

“No,” Lucien said, checking behind him as if his roommate would magically appear somewhere in the twelve by twenty foot room and save them both. “He left a while ago, I think for a date?”

Elain’s brow furrowed. “He canceled our date.”

If possible, Lucien looked even more embarrassed than Elain felt. “I, uh, I think he was going with Ianthe? She’s in our calculus class.”

“But it’s our three month anniversary,” Elain said stupidly. It’s the only thing she could think of at that moment.

Lucien looked away from the ceiling he’d been dutifully staring at, taking in the lacy underwear, the bottle of thirty dollar champagne, and the tears that had started welling in Elain’s eyes, making her vision watery.

“Do you want to come in?” he asked, stepping aside to clear the doorway.

Elain figured her options were cry in front of Lucien or cry in front of the entire dorm, and followed Lucien inside. At least this way only one person would have to see her breakdown.

While Lucien threw on a white t-shirt, covering the smooth expanse of brown skin and muscles of his chest, Elain set the champagne down on his desk with a heavy thud, and plopped down on his desk chair.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, silent except for her occasional sniffles.

Lucien looked like he very much wanted to be anywhere else as he handed her one of his shirts to put on. Prythian U Rowing was emblazoned on the front, along with the picture of an oar. Elain took it gratefully, slipping it on.

“Graysen’s a dick,” Lucien said, reaching over Elain to grab a box from the wall shelves. “An absolute tool.”

“Then why are you his roommate?” Elain asked, wiping her eyes with the edge of Lucien’s shirt.

“His dad is best friends with my stepdad. Makes him hard to avoid.” Lucien slid a coffee mug under his keurig, one of the nice ones Elain was too poor to even hope to buy. “Beron offered to pay my tuition if I lived with him, something about building business connections. And damn me if I don’t regret it every day.”

He pulled the mug out and offered it to Elain. “Hot chocolate?”

Elain took it gratefully.

“My mom usually makes it with real chocolate on milk,” Lucien said sheepishly. “But I’m a little limited on kitchen gadgets.”

“It’s perfect,” Elain said. Her parents had never had time, or desire, to make anything homemade, so Swiss Miss bought her immeasurable amounts of comfort. She also, privately, thought it tasted better.

“Do you want me to see if I can call Graysen,” Lucien asked, pulling out his phone. “Ask what’s up.”

“I think it’s pretty clear what’s up,” Elain muttered. He thought she was an idiot who wouldn’t notice him two timing her. Which he was partially right about, since he’d been getting away with it for this long.

Uncharacteristic anger filled her, and Elain wondered if this was what Nesta felt like all the time. If this was the energy that led to Nesta chaining herself to Prythian’s oldest library her sophomore year when the school wanted to tear it down to build a new parking garage.

“I hate him,” Elain yelled. “I hate him so fucking much.”

“Trust me, the feeling’s mutual,” Lucien said, gently taking the hot chocolate mug out of her hands. Elain hadn’t realized how hard she’d been squeezing it. “And he snores.”

Despite herself, Elain chuckled. “He couldn’t even figure out how to make me come,” she admitted. “I don’t think he ever found my clit.”

Lucien frowned, suddenly serious. “Now that won’t do. Imagine having Elain Archeron in your bed and not worshiping her.”

Elain’s face flushed hot, noticing the almost hungry way Lucien was looking at her. He really was handsome, with a strong jawline and chiseled brow. Probably why the university put him on all the athletic promotions.

“I didn’t think you knew who I was,” Elain admitted. After all, why would he. She was studying bio, he spent all his time in the business school.

Lucien’s russet eyes met hers. “You’re a very hard person to miss, Elain.”

Elain averted her gaze first, backing down. “I should go.”

“You could,” Lucien said, leaning against his bed. “But I know what would make Graysen pissed.”

“What,” Elain said, that anger roaring back to life.

“We could fuck on his bed,” Lucien said.

“We could not,” Elain gasped. Although the idea was tempting. She’d seen Lucien shirtless now, and the photos of him in his skintight spandex uni plastered across campus did little to hide how well endowed he was.

Lucien cocked his head. “Why not? Who’s going to stop us, Graysen’s still out on his date.”

“It would be cheating,” Elain protested weakly.

“Cheating on the three month relationship he never cared about?” Lucien taunted, one brow raised. Elain should have been offended, should have stormed out, but she stayed in his chair, staring up at him.

“What would my sisters think?”

“I highly doubt Feyre, who strung our quarterback’s underwear from the flagpole when she found out Tamlin tried to steal her car keys so she couldn’t drive home for thanksgiving, is going to judge you.”

Elain bit her cheek, rising to her feet. “What’s college for if not making dumb decisions.”

Lucien watched her like she was prey, and he was the hunter, as she slid past him and hopped up on Graysen’s navy blue comforter.

It was always navy blue. Although Elain couldn’t help but notice Lucien had rather nice maroon sheets on his side of the room.

Any thoughts Elain had about interior decorating quickly disappeared as Lucien all but punched, pressing his lips against hers. His hips fell between the cradle of her thighs, and Elain arched back into him. She reveled at the sensation. He was already so much more than Graysen as he claimed her lips.

One of Lucien’s hands reached down to wrap around her hip, skimming under his shirt.

“I like seeing you in my clothes,” Lucien said, before gripping the hem of the blue fabric and yanking it off.

“And you like seeing me out of it more?” Elain teased.

“Just want Graysen to know where we were,” Lucien said. He kissed his way down Elain’s jaw, her neck, her chest, paying special attention to her breasts, still covered in lace.

He sucked on her nipple through the fabric, making it stand hard.

“Lucien,” Elain hissed. Her core was aching, and she didn’t know if she wanted him to move his head lower, or to take his pants off.

He made her decision for her, replacing his lips with his fingers as he lowered his head between her thighs.

“May I?” he asked, the picture of politeness. As if they weren’t currently doing the filthiest thing of Elain’s life.

Elain lifted her hips in silent permission, letting Lucien drag the slip of underwear down her legs. He deliberately placed them on Graysen’s pillow with a wink that had Elain clenching her legs together. Lucien wrapped his hands around her thighs, prying them open.

“None of that,” Lucien said. “Not when I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.”

“You have?”

“Since we shared that bio class freshman year.”

Elain had a vague memory of Lucien, the flash of red that always slid into the back row at the last minute, late from practice. Although she’d been half asleep at nine am. Maybe he had missed something.

“Oh,” Elain said. Which quickly became a moan as Lucien bent down and licked a stripe through her folds.

“You taste…” Lucien said, trailing off and licking her again.

“Lucien,” Elain whined, fishting her hands in Graysen’s sheets. She couldn’t remember the last time Graysen had gone down on her. He’d complained it wasn’t fun for him, and left it at that.

Lucien, on the other hand, ate pussy like it was his job. His hand was still on her breast, rolling her nipple in time with his tongue, sending waves of pleasure rolling through her body.

“Faster,” Elain demanded, sliding her fingers through Lucien’s long red hair and pulling him closer.

Lucien groaned as her nails scraped his scalp, following her lead. “Tell me what you need.”

Elain looked down at him wide eyed. Lucien gave her a soft smile of encouragement.

“Use your fingers,” Elain ordered. Lucien’s smile became a smirk as he slid his pointer into her cunt, and Elain clenched around it.

“Another.”

He added his middle, punctuated by a flick of her clit with his thumb. Dragged his fingers in and out.

“Come for me,” Lucien said, his low voice rumbling along her body.

“Fuck,” Elain breathed, as pleasure licked down her spine, sending her over the edge.

Lucien lifted himself over her, held up by powerful thighs earned from hours of practice, and kissed her sloppily. Elain could taste herself on his tongue. She reached down for his shirt, ready to pull it off.

The sound of the door opening made her freeze.

“What the fuck,” yelled Graysen.

Lucien scrambled off her, and Elain reached behind her searching for her discarded shirt.

“In my bed,” Graysen continued, “you’re fucking in my bed.” He was still standing in the doorway, Ianthe peering over his shoulder.

“Go screw yourself Graysen,” Lucien said, standing in front of Elain to block her from sight while she quickly covered herself.

“I, I,” Graysen spluttered. His eyes narrowed. “I’ll tell Beron what you did. I’m sure you stepfather will love this.”

“Beron would probably pat me on the back. And,” Elain could hear the sly grin in Lucien’s voice, “I’ll tell your father you got rejected from investment club.”

Graysen’s face turned a shade of red Elain wasn’t sure was possible in nature, and she snorted.

Lucien glanced behind him, checking that she was ready, and held out his hand. She took it, and he pulled her off the bed and out of the room. Graysen quickly backed away to give them space.

“Anything else to add?” Elain asked innocently.

Graysen just stared.

“Thought so,” Lucien said, smugly, leading Elain down the hallway.

They collapsed on one of the lounge couches as soon as they were out of sight, and Elain couldn’t stop the laughter from bubbling out of her.

“Did you see his face?” she gasped.

“Priceless. Absolutely priceless. God I can’t wait to rub this in his face at the office Christmas party.”

Elain sobered, remembering that Lucien had so much more to lose than her. “I’m sorry if I ruined your roommate relationship.”

“Nah,” Lucien said, waving his hand. “I’ve wanted to move off campus for ages, ever since the school upped my athletic scholarship and I didn’t need my stepdad to keep paying tuition. Jurian’s been begging me to move in with him.”

“Good,” Elain said. She bit her lip. “So that’s it then, see you around?”

Hurt flashed across Lucien’s face. “So that’s it then, just going to love me and leave me?” he asked with forced lightness.

“Unless you maybe wanted to get coffee tomorrow?”

Lucien brightened. “I have mandatory athletic study hour until two, but we could go after that?”

“Meet you at the library then,” Elain said, standing up.

“Until then.” Lucien gave her a lovesick grin. One Elain couldn’t help but meet.

The next day, Lucien was waiting outside the library, a bouquet of white flowers in hand. White that matched the pair of panties she’d left in his room. “To remind you of last night,” he said with a wink.

#elucien #acotar #elucien fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elain x lucien

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the-iceni-bitch · 1 year

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You Know I Don’t Mind

Kinkmas Day 13: Aftercare

Relationship: Ari Levinson x fem!reader (gorgeous and the sex god (pre-Ransom and Jake) NLLYL AU)

Words: 1.5k

Summary: Ari just loves taking care of you.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (cream pie, fingering, sexy touching) established relationship, feelings, fluff, kinda dom/sub dynamics, SMUT!! 18+ ONLY!!

A/N: Listen, it wasn’t exactly restful aftercare, but it’s Ari the sex god. Also, goddamn they are all in love, and every time I think about her and Ari or Jake and Ran and when I’m gonna have to break them up it breaks my heart a little bit. I just have to keep reminding myself they all end up where they need to be, but still 😭 (also, I know the pic in the moodboard isn’t as inclusive as I’d like, but the size difference and the pose screamed “Ari” and I couldn’t help myself)

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications

Ari let out a final, prolonged groan as his hips jerked against your ass, collapsing on top of you and burying his face in your neck after he finished pumping you full of his cum.

“You’re suffocating me.” You grinned crookedly at him when he pushed your hair aside and kissed your cheek with an affectionate growl before rolling off you. “I think you gave me a concussion.”

“I will not apologize for my enthusiasm, but I’m sorry about your head.” Ari beamed at you and rolled onto his side. “Does it still hurt? Is there a bump?”

“I don’t think so, but I can’t really check.” You just breathed deeply as you gazed back at him. “My body is a little immobile right now.”

Your first three day weekend together and you weren’t sure why you were surprised at the fact that he had spent the first eight hours fucking you all over his penthouse, not when he had practically stood over you to make sure you actually submitted your request for the time off. It had been the absolute right decision, the way his eyes had drank you in when you arrived before wrapping you in his arms and kissing you hungrily something that would stick in your brain for a while. He hadn’t let your feet touch the floor since you’d stepped off the elevator, fingering you on the accent table in his foyer then eating you out on his kitchen counter then petting your cunt while he held you up against the wall before he finally took you to the bedrooms almost literally drove your skull through the headboard.

Ari was more than a little enamored with you, and finally getting the chance to spoil you like he knew you deserved made his chest all warm. He just wanted to care for you and hold you and cover your entire body with kisses for the entire time he had you all to himself, practically addicted to the way your body reacted to him when he paid any sort of attention to that perfect, pretty pussy. Though he did feel bad about almost fucking you through his bedroom wall.

“Don’t worry, gorgeous, I’ve got you.” Ari scooped you into his arms and purred when you nuzzled into his chest, kissing the top of your head and carrying you to the bathroom. “Gonna get you all cleaned up before dinner gets here.”

“You ordered in?” You batted your eyelashes and kissed his shoulder when he set you on the counter, sighing when he disconnected from you to turn on the water for the bath before he was back and ducking to nibble on your ear. “Thought you were gonna cook for me. Show me the domestic side of the sex god.”

“That’s for tomorrow.” Ari kissed one of the bruises his teeth had left on your neck, his hands gentle as they slid around your waist and pulled you closer. “Wanna spend tonight worshiping every inch of you.”

“You’re… mmm, Ari.” You moaned when he brushed his lips over your throat and growled affectionately, spreading your legs around his hips when you felt his warm palms rubbing and squeezing your ass. “You’re gonna spoil me. How does dinner figure into your plans?”

“Well…” he drew his face back to yours and smiled warmly as he brushed his nose against yours. “I was kinda thinking it’d be nice to let you keep my cock warm and wet while I feed you oysters before dripping fondue all over you and licking it off.”

“God, I’m not gonna be able to walk out of here, Levinson.” You chuckled and wound your fingers through his hair as he sucked on your bottom lip. “Was that your plan?”

“Maybe.” Ari gave you a quick peck then leaned back to turn off the water. “You do make it very hard to let you go.”

“Look at you being all sweet on me.” You squeaked when he lifted you again, scrunching up your face when he pressed kisses all over you and started to climb into the tub. “Gonna ruin your intangible sex god reputation.”

“Yeah, until you ask me to fuck you as loud as possible in the front seat again… shit!” Ari hissed and dropped you when the hot water hit the backs of his thighs, unable to stop himself from guffawing when you spluttered and splashed water everywhere, leaning forward and holding your face in his hands while you shook with mirth. “I’m so fucking sorry, I forgot that you scratched the shit out of me.”

“It’s okay, my ass was bruised already. Turn around.” You beamed at him when he did, rubbing your hands and warm water all over his thighs and ass and back while he slowly sank into the tub. “Big baby.”

“Shut up.” Ari was grinning when he turned back to you, pulling you into his lap and starting to lather up his hands while he pressed his cheek to your temple. “I’m taking care of you this weekend, remember?”

All you could do was hum in agreement when he started rubbing the body wash into your shoulders, slowly working his way down your arms one at a time as he murmured soft endearments against your skin. He was thorough, pushing you forward just enough to massage the lather over every inch of your back before pulling you against his chest again and raising your arms so he could clean your sides. The way you sighed as his thumbs softly grazed the swells of your breasts made him twitch, even though you grumbled when he moved on to soaping up your stomach without paying any attention to your nipples.

Ari didn’t bother touching you between your legs either, ignoring your small wiggle when he tucked a hand under your knee and pulled it above the water so he could get it clean. Even if you were frustrated, the stretch was amazing, whining at the way his thumbs dug into your calf before his touch slid up to your thigh. You arched your back and let your eyes flutter closed as he kept moving higher, your breathing growing deeper when his fingers rubbed into the crease of your hip for a few extra seconds then making you huff as he moved onto the other leg and left you hanging.

“Quit teasing.” You pouted when he kissed your cheek and chuckled, his palm rubbing your heel as he avoided your petulant gaze. “Ari…”

“Hush.” Ari let out a soothing rumble when he felt you ramping up to whine again, inching his caress further and further up your thigh and subtly rolling his hips so you could feel him getting hard. “Such a needy little thing. I told you I’d take care of you.”

You gasped when his hands glided up your body until he was cupping your breasts, melting into him as he kneaded your curves gently and nuzzled at your cheek. He made sure to enjoy every inch of your pretty tits, circling the soft slopes with his thumbs then dragging his fingers along the undersides of them to make them jiggle before he finally pinched your nipples. Ari loved the way you whimpered and panted while he played with you, pulling on them and rolling them between his fingers until they were raised and sensitive for him.

“Such a gorgeous girl.” Ari plucked at your nipples once more before squeezing your breasts again while he groaned in your ear, his cock twitching below the water while you rolled your body against his. “Should I clean you everywhere, lovely thing? Make sure that sweet pussy is nice and pretty and shiny before I make it messy again?”

“Yes.” You were breathless when he slid a hand below the water and his fingers found your clit, so close already from having him touch you everywhere that you were on the edge. “Please.”

“So polite.” The hand that wasn’t pressing into your swollen bundle of nerves was suddenly curled around your throat, tilting your head back so he could suck on your lips and swallow your soft noises. “If you want to be really clean, you’ve gotta push out that mess I fucked into you. Do it for me, c’mon gorgeous.”

The way he was circling your clit was abruptly overwhelming, your jaw dropping open in a silent cry while your body shook and your cunt clenched around nothing. You were vaguely aware of the pressure pushing Ari’s cum and your own release out of your pussy, breathing heavily and gazing into Ari’s eyes while he slotted his cock along the crease of your ass and ground it into you when he came at the same time.

“I feel like cumming in the bath water defeats the purpose.” You beamed when he chuckled at that before he kissed the tip of your nose, letting go of your throat so you could return your head to a normal position and rest on his shoulder.

“It’s fine, it sinks.” Ari pressed his lips to your temple and wound his arms around your waist. “Just can’t help myself with you, might be a little in love with you, sweetheart.”

#natalie writes #natalie’s kinkmas 2022 #no love like your love au #gorgeous and the sex god #ari levinson #ari levinson x fem!reader #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x y/n #ari levinson x you #ari levinson smut #ari levinson fluff #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans character #eighteen and over #eighteen plus

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moodymelanist · 1 year

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Up All Night (I Won't Quit)

happy pride everyone!! @dustjacketmusings requested this fic because quote "Emerie can be a better boyfriend than Cassian" so here we are hehe. hope you all enjoy!! title from dove cameron’s song “boyfriend” of course <3

moodboard also for @turesti curtesy of @sjmkinkmeme below!!

Summary: Emerie is tired of watching Nesta suffer over and over at Cassian’s hands, especially when she knows she could treat Nesta so much better.

Word Count: 3.3k

Read on AO3 here!

⚢⚢⚢⚢⚢ Emerie

Emerie sighed heavily as she looked around the room, a familiar sight meeting her eyes. Cassian had somehow managed to convince Nesta to come out with him and his friends tonight, and because Emerie would do anything Nesta asked, she’d gotten dragged along for the ride.

Other than how gorgeous Nesta looked, tonight wasn’t shaping up to be a particularly enjoyable ride. Cassian had abandoned Nesta pretty early into the night and had spent most of the time on the dance floor jumping around, clearly having the time of his life. Nesta was practically hiding in the corner of the booth he’d abandoned her in and had clearly been over things within the first half an hour, but out of what Emerie felt was a very misplaced sense of loyalty, Nesta hadn’t gotten up and left yet.

Emerie had been friends with Nesta for years, ever since they’d been randomly assigned to work on a group project together in their freshman year of high school. Gwyn had joined their duo a year later after she’d transferred to their high school, and the three of them had been thick as thieves ever since. They’d gone to the same college and had managed to get jobs in the same city, keeping their friendship alive through breakups, grad school, job changes, and all the other ups and downs that life had thrown at them.

Gwyn hadn’t been able to come out tonight because she was away at some fancy conference, but Emerie knew she hadn’t exactly been torn up about missing another episode of the Nesta and Cassian show. They’d been dating on and off for three years, each temporary breakup somehow managing to be more dramatic than the last, and Emerie still didn’t understand why Nesta put up with it. She was one of the smartest people Emerie knew, she was incredibly thoughtful, she cared so deeply for the people closest to her, and it certainly didn’t hurt that she was gorgeous.

Nesta was an amazing lawyer, sister, and friend, so Emerie didn’t understand why she was wasting her time with Cassian. He was loud, obnoxious, and so obviously not right for Nesta that Emerie couldn’t wrap her head around how they’d managed to do this for so long. Nesta was one of the most amazing people Emerie had ever met, and Cassian was just some guy. Why did he get to have someone as perfect as Nesta Archeron without even trying, when Emerie knew Nesta deserved so much better?

Emerie’s love life might have been nonexistent, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t silently seethe over how easy it should’ve been for Cassian to treat Nesta right. For fuck’s sake, anyone who actually cared about Nesta should’ve known how much she hated places like this. If it had been up to Emerie, she knew Nesta would’ve much rather spent the night at a bar where you could actually hear people instead of a thudding baseline. Or better yet, they could’ve just stayed in, ordered some food, and spent the evening curled up on the couch talking shit as they caught up on the latest garbage reality show.

It wasn’t up to Emerie, though, so here they were. She sighed and took a sip of the overpriced drink she’d gotten at the bar as she surveyed the dance floor. She wasn’t going to leave Nesta’s side, but it never hurt to take a look. Nobody really caught her eye, though she of course noticed Cassian finally remembering his girlfriend was here as he pushed through the crowd to come back to their booth.

“Come dance, babe,” Cassian yelled over the music once he was close enough. He was dressed in an all-black ensemble that Emerie had to begrudgingly admit he looked good in, and a thin layer of sweat covered his skin from all the dancing he’d been doing without Nesta.

“I don’t want to,” Nesta yelled back, crossing her arms over her dark blue dress. Emerie pointedly didn’t look at the way the motion made Nesta’s cleavage even more pronounced. “I’m not dancing on you with all your friends watching.”

“Come on, don’t be boring,” Cassian whined. “We’re supposed to be having fun!”

Emerie had to suppress an eye twitch at his tone — there were few things more pathetic than a grown man whining — but thankfully, Nesta wasn’t moved.

“You know I don’t like the club, Cassian,” Nesta snapped back. “This isn’t fun for me.”

“Then why did you even agree to come?” Cassian asked with a frown. “I don’t fucking get you.”

“Because I wanted to spend time with you,” Nesta ground out slowly, like she was talking to a child. “Clearly you don’t feel the same.”

“Obviously I feel the same,” Cassian retorted. Emerie couldn’t hold back her eye roll at that one, but it wasn’t like her opinion mattered much. “Why else do you think I came over here to ask you to dance?”

“Yeah, after I’ve been sitting here for almost an hour. What a gentleman.”

“You could’ve gotten up and joined me whenever you wanted, nobody made you sit here and fucking mope all night—”

“Oh, I’m moping now? Maybe if you hadn’t asked me to come somewhere you knew I wouldn’t like I wouldn’t be sitting here like that in the first place—”

Emerie just sighed and downed the rest of her cocktail, doing her best to tune out the arguing happening right next to her. They would eventually get tired of arguing and either leave to fuck it out or Nesta would decide she’d finally had enough and call an Uber. Either way, Emerie would probably get to go home soon, so she just wished they would get this latest argument over with soon enough so she could get away from them.

“Fuck this. Don’t call me tomorrow when you realize how you fucked this up again,” Nesta eventually snapped. Emerie barely had a chance to grab her phone before Nesta was snatching her purse and leaving the booth, her long legs carrying her quickly to the club’s exit. “Let’s get out of here, Em.”

Emerie didn’t bother to hide her sneer in Cassian’s direction as she followed Nesta outside. If Cassian replied, it got lost in the loud music and the crowd, and Emerie didn’t really care what he had to say anyway. She was far more concerned with making sure Nesta was okay anyway.

Once Emerie found Nesta outside, she pulled out her phone without a word and called an Uber back to her place. They’d gotten ready together there, and Nesta had tentatively planned to sleep over anyway since she lived further out, and part of Emerie was hoping she would still stay despite the way the night had turned out. She didn’t want Nesta to go home and be alone no matter how familiar arguing with Cassian was, and the more selfish part of her wanted as much time with Nesta as she could steal.

Maybe it made her a bad person, but considering the way Cassian behaved, Emerie certainly knew she was at least better than him.

“That’s us,” Emerie said after a few minutes, pointing out their ride. She gently grabbed Nesta’s arm and steered her toward the blue sedan. “Come on.”

After she confirmed their destination with the driver, the silence of the car felt empty and stilted compared to the deafening music from inside the club. Emerie snuck looks over at Nesta as much as she could get away with, not wanting to be caught staring but simultaneously wanting to make sure her friend was okay. Nesta was staring out the window with her lips pressed together like she was trying not to cry, and Emerie would do anything to get that look off her face.

Nesta was far too proud to admit when she needed help, though, so Emerie would have to settle with the subtle method of handling Nesta that she’d developed over the years. When their Uber arrived outside Emerie’s building, she quickly shepherded Nesta upstairs and back into her apartment before Nesta could make any noise about going home.

“Can you stay here tonight?” Emerie asked immediately after she’d locked the door and taken off her shoes. “I don’t want to order takeout by myself.”

“Okay,” Nesta agreed quietly. She took off her heels and dropped her purse on the kitchen counter, not making eye contact with Emerie as she checked her phone. “Is it okay if I shower?”

“You know you don’t have to ask,” Emerie told her. She pretended not to notice how disappointed Nesta looked — Cassian probably hadn’t reached out, and even though Nesta said she hadn’t wanted him to, it still stung nonetheless — and instead opened up the UberEats app on her phone. “Chinese food okay? Or do you want something else?”

“Whatever you’re getting is fine,” Nesta muttered. She locked her phone and sighed heavily. “I’ll be in the bathroom.”

Emerie sighed as she watched Nesta disappear in the guest bathroom, hoping that a warm shower and putting on pajamas would help her friend’s mood until the food would arrive. She quickly put in their usual order at the place that stayed open late on weekends before sending off a quick text to Gwyn letting her know what happened. She didn’t expect a response this late, so she locked her phone and headed toward her en suite so she could shower and change too.

By the time Emerie had showered and changed into a loose t-shirt and sweatpants, her phone was vibrating to let her know the food had arrived. She yelled out a goodbye as she shoved her feet into her slippers and quickly went downstairs to grab everything, and by the time she made it back upstairs, Nesta was sitting on the couch in an oversized law school sweater and biker shorts.

“Thanks,” Nesta told Emerie quietly once they’d divided all the food. She’d turned on some Netflix just to have something on in the background while Emerie was downstairs, and the soft sounds of The Great British Bake-off filled the apartment as she cracked open the lid of her General Tso’s Chicken.

“Anytime,” Emerie replied just as softly, fiddling with the lid of her lo mein.

They ate their food in relative silence, the only sounds coming from the television and the occasional crinkle of a wrapper. They’d made through most of the episode they were watching when Nesta put down her food and paused the show with a heavy sigh. “This fucking sucks.”

“What?” Emerie asked, turning to look at Nesta. She put her egg rolls down and turned to give her friend the full attention she deserved, making sure to wipe any crumbs off her clothes. “What sucks?”

“Cassian,” Nesta replied. “I just — I don’t know. I don’t even know why I went out tonight, let alone dragged you with me.”

“We’re friends, Nesta,” Emerie answered evenly. “Gwyn would’ve been there too if she wasn’t out of town for her conference.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad about making you two do that,” Nesta responded. “And it doesn’t help that this is what he does almost every fucking time.”

“Nesta, you’re not making anyone do anything,” Emerie countered. She hated the idea that Nesta thought she was somehow burdening them with this. “We’re friends, Nesta. It’s what we do. Don’t feel bad about that.”

“If I didn’t feel bad about making you watch that, what kind of friend would I be?” Nesta fired back with another heavy sigh. “It’s so fucking embarrassing. Sometimes I don’t even know why I bother.”

“Aren’t you tired of that, Nesta?” Emerie asked quietly, not wanting to scare her off. She knew how prickly Nesta could be on the best of days, and this certainly wasn’t one of those, but Nesta had given her an opening and she wasn’t going to waste it. “Don’t you think you deserve better than this?”

Nesta just sighed heavily. “Who’s going to put up with all my shit, Em? My parental issues, the long hours at work, all my little quirks… I don’t exactly see people lining up for that.”

“First of all,” Emerie began, “no one should be ‘putting up’ with you. You have all this amazing stuff going for you, and anyone would be lucky to have you. Quirks and all.”

“Nobody wants me once they get to know me,” Nesta countered with a sad smile. “I’m just a pretty thing people like to look at, but the second I open my mouth? It’s game over.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Emerie retorted without hesitating. “And that has nothing to do with why you’re still with that dumbass.”

“Maybe I just don’t want to be alone,” Nesta admitted quietly.

“Who says you have to be?” Emerie asked just as quietly. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she reached out to grab Nesta’s hand, her fingers slotting in easily alongside Nesta’s cooler ones.

“Thanks, Em, but there’s only so much friendship can do for me,” Nesta answered, her words going for teasing but falling flat considering how sad she still looked. She squeezed Emerie’s hand once before pulling away. “Even if it’s as amazing as yours has been.”

Emerie shifted closer so their knees were touching, moving the hand that Nesta had let go of to rest gently on Nesta’s lower thigh instead. “Who said I was talking about just friendship?”

“What?” Nesta responded, her lips parting in total surprise.

“I can’t keep watching you do this,” Emerie told her, terrified out of her mind but unwilling to stop now that she was on a roll. “He treats you like shit, and I just— I can’t do it, Nesta. Not when I know you deserve so much better, and definitely not when I know I could give that to you.”

At Nesta’s still-shocked expression and lack of response, Emerie was compelled to fill the stunned silence as the rest of her confession bubbled up and out of her. “You’re smart, and you’re funny, and you’re one of the most loyal people I’ve ever met. You’re gorgeous and you’re kind and you make everything better by just being here. How could I not feel like this about you? You’re the best person I know, Nesta. It’s not even close.”

Emerie petered off as she realized Nesta still hadn’t said anything. Was she staying quiet because she didn’t know what to say? Was she trying to figure out a way to let Emerie down easy? Or worse, was she about to tell Emerie never to talk to her again?

Fuck. This was easily one of the worst mistakes Emerie had ever made, and she had to fix it while she had the chance.

“I—” Emerie started, pulling her hands off Nesta like she’d been burned once she realized they were still touching. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said any of that. We can just pretend it never happened, I promise I won’t be weird about it—”

“Emerie,” Nesta finally said. Emerie stopped her pathetic apology and closed her mouth so fast that her teeth practically clacked together, desperately afraid to hear what her friend would say next. “Shut up.”

The next thing Emerie knew, Nesta was grabbing her shirt and pulling her in for a kiss. Emerie’s mind went totally blank at the soft press of Nesta’s lips to her own, and Emerie gasped into Nesta’s mouth at the realization that Nesta Archeron was kissing her.

Emerie’s brain thankfully didn’t let her sit there in shock for too long, coming just online enough to lean forward and kiss Nesta back. It was a little hesitant, almost like neither of them could fully believe this was happening, but Nesta’s lips were warm and she tasted like the spring roll she’d just finished eating.

It was the best moment of Emerie’s life, and then she was pulling back to stare at Nesta with wide eyes. Part of her couldn’t believe that had just happened, but a much larger part of her was expecting Nesta to let her down easy despite having been the one to lean in first. “Nesta…”

“Shut up,” Nesta said before Emerie could pull a coherent string of words together. “Just— stop talking.”

Nesta’s fist tightened on Emerie’s shirt again, but this time she was the one to come closer. Her knuckles dug into Emerie’s chest as she pushed back, Emerie going willingly so Nesta could straddle her. Every thought in Emerie’s mind emptied out once Nesta’s long legs were pinning her in place, her biker shorts riding up to reveal even more of her thigh, and Emerie practically short-circuited at the feeling of all that smooth skin underneath her hands. She’d imagined this so many times, but absolutely nothing compared to the real thing.

Nesta leaned down to kiss her again and Emerie eagerly responded. A large part of Emerie still couldn’t believe this was happening, but she wasn’t going to squander the opportunity now that she finally had the woman of her dreams under her hands. Nesta was making the sweetest little sounds as they traded open-mouthed kisses, and Emerie wanted to burn them into her mind forever.

One of Nesta’s hands was on Emerie’s shoulder for balance, but the other had snuck its way under the hem of Emerie’s t-shirt to rub teasing circles into the skin there. In retaliation, Emerie brought one of her hands up from Nesta’s thigh to cup her ass instead, squeezing the toned muscle firmly. Nesta moaned right into Emerie’s mouth and rocked her hips back into Emerie’s hand, turning the heat pooling between Emerie’s legs molten.

Fuck, this was moving quickly. Emerie wanted to unwrap Nesta like the gift that she was and learn every trick that made her scream, but the more logical part of her knew she needed to check in before that happened.

“Wait,” Emerie said, panting as she broke their kiss. She hated to stop, but she had to make sure this was what Nesta really wanted. She didn’t think she could live with herself if she made Nesta even more upset in the long run, nor did she know how she’d survive knowing Nesta only wanted her for one night. “Nesta, Nesta, wait.”

Nesta immediately pulled away, looking at Emerie with concern. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just…” Emerie trailed off before taking a deep breath and forcing herself to get through this. “I don’t want to do this if you’re just gonna regret it and call Cassian in the morning.”

“Oh, Em,” Nesta breathed, reaching out to cup Emerie’s face and stroke her thumb across Emerie’s cheek. “How could I ever regret this? You’re the only one that I want.”

“Really?” Emerie asked. Between Nesta looking like a dream above her and the weight of the conversation they were having, Emerie’s heart was beating embarrassingly fast. She hoped Nesta couldn’t feel it.

“Yeah.” Nesta’s expression turned a little sheepish. “I feel kind of stupid not realizing before. Cassian would always complain about how much we hung out or how much I talked about you… I thought he was just being a controlling dick, but maybe he was right.”

“He is a controlling dick,” Emerie said, pulling a snort from Nesta, “but maybe he had a point.”

“A broken clock is right twice a day,” Nesta said back, rolling her eyes. “But I don’t want to waste any more time talking about him. He and I are done for good, Em. I just want you.”

Nesta leaned in to punctuate her declaration with a soft kiss, and Emerie felt like she could level mountains. That could wait, though.

For now, she’d just settle for making Nesta happy.

#acotar #acosf #nemerie #nesta archeron #emerie of illyria #nesta x emerie #cassian #moodymelanistwrites

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neonpixel-pixie · 27 days

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🖤 Love letter for Vito Scaletta 🖤

NOTE: hello angels, i know my tumblr is not as active as i would like it to be, but i have lack of ideas and also nearly none time since school & socializing. (if anyone is waiting for moodboard or aesthetic, i will try my best to find my time this months). at least my creative writing class gave me some idea for some kind of postable material. we were supposed to write a love letters & from some reasons i decided to write one for vito scaletta. i know it is not the best one, but it was much fun to do it and i really gave a lot of feelings into it. i hope you will enjoy it and if you like it let me know in comments (maybe i will make more posts like that if you will be interested). ~ neonpixel-pixie 🧚🏻‍♀️✨

My dearest Vito, About three hours ago, I have returned to Empire Bay after months away to spend the Christmas holidays with you, and guess what?! From your "great" friends, I found out that you ended up in prison because of your "amazing" job. Didn't I tell you to be careful before I left to Stanford? And didn't I also tell you that my parents can financially support us until you find a decently paid job? But no! Mr. Scaletta had to be as stubborn as always and not listen to me, right?! Oh, Vito, I love you so much, but why are you such an idiot? Why are you doing this to me... and on Christmas of all times?! Do you know how scared I was when you suddenly stopped writing letters to me and answering calls? I've spent nights crying because I thought you might have found someone else since we last saw each other! I know you're not like that. After all, you kept your promises like a decent man everytime. So I reassured myself thinking you must just be very busy. But despite that, I imagined the worst scenarios every day, either contemplating pulling out the hair of anyone who even looks at you or whinned like a fool for hours - not that I'm not doing that while I'm writing this letter too... and the fact that I'm writing it in your apartment doesn't really help my mood, especially when I imagine how we could spend time together today after endless waiting. You wouldn't believe how excited I was to finally see your face in person and not only on a few photographs I secretly grabbed from you before the start of the winter semester. And when I imagine that we could spend the holidays baking and decorating gingerbreads while listening to Christmas songs by Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin, it breaks my heart. The only thing currently keeping me somewhat sane is the scent of your cologne, whiskey, and cigarettes, which still lingers in the rooms and reminds me so much of your sweet embrace and passionate kisses. At least it warms my soul a bit and gives me hope that you'll get out soon from that hell on earth, and I'll feel the warmth of your embrace again. I promise that while I'm in town, I'll stop by to see you whenever possible. I love you and please take care of yourself. I'm afraid for you. Yours beloved, M. ♥

#mafia 2 #mafia game #empire bay #vito scaletta #love letters #gaming #mafia #videogame #pc games #vito scaletta aesthetic #mafia 2 aesthetic #creative writing #writing #fictional crushes

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a-redharlequin · 2 years

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Moodboard Commissions

Due to a lot of financial strain my family is under, I'm trying out doing things I love for a little money as much as I can and make ends meet.

Here's a few answers to some questions you might have!

What is a Moodboard?

A moodboard is a collage of images arranged in a pleasing fashion. It can be a general aesthetic or for a particular subject (like your favorite show, character, or ship!)

What can I use my Moodboard for?

When completed, you can choose to keep it all for yourself, post it with credit to myself, or I can post it for you (as long as it's allowed by tumblr guidelines). You can also post it on AO3 if it's for a fanfic, just give me a shout out! (AO3: TheRedHarlequin)

These moodboards will be for personal use ONLY. I do not own the images used in these moodboards. Though the majority will be royalty free, what I am actually selling is my labor, time, and aesthetic ability to customize something that makes you smile! If you want a commercial free moodboard, that is a separate conversation.

What can I request?

I accept almost ANY requests, including NSFW/Kink! I have extremely few hard nos and I will be upfront about them (scat and nsfw involving underage are the top two nos). I can skew NSFW that can pass the guidelines of tumblr for posting or I can make it full monty for just you and your friends' entertainment!

I found some cool art, can we use that?

Unless you have proof of explicit permission from the artist personally for the exact purpose of the board, I DO NOT use art from independent artists as it's a form of reposting.

What art I will use: widely recognized art studios (think Ghibli films), classical art (Mona Lisa, Van Gogh), scenes from a manga (Naruto, BNHA) and the like. Basically if you can look at something and go "Oh I know that!" then that's okay.

Faceclaims, Aesthetics, and References

Do you have an OC or TTRPG character you'd like a faceclaim and/or moodboard for? Would you like a collage you can give to your favorite artist to help them bring your character to life? Need references for that outfit or special something you want your artist to incorporate into that piece you've wanted done forever? I'm happy to help!

That all sounds fun! How much?

Simple: $6-$12

Large: $12-$25

Set of 3: $25 or $35

(Prices are negotiable but dictated by time & labor invested, see details)

Details:

Simple moodboards

Boards of 9 or less still images, with minimal work required, would be around $6. (Additional hours, late requests, adjustments, custom words, photo editing, font selection, etc can raise the price from $6 up to $12)

Large moodboards

Boards of 10+ images and/or containing gifs, with all the bells and whistles. These can include very specific faceclaims or references as they take longer, are more involved, and I have to justify my time spent when I could make more doing something else. I will give you a quote depending how involved you want your commission but the expected range is $12 up to $25.

Set of 3:

If you commission three 9 still image moodboards as a set (for instance if you want moodboards of your ship, I can do one for each character and then one with them both), the price will be a flat $25. This includes lots of adjustments!

For $35, I will do a set of 3 boards, each with 12 images, customizations and gifs will be included. You get the whole kit and caboodle X3!

I will do multiple check ins while the work is in progress to make sure you're getting an end result you are happy with!

Why do Gifs cost extra?

Because they are much harder to balance properly. What that means is that gifs can easily clash or throw off an entire board if not coordinated carefully. They're just harder to work with and take a lot more time usually. But they're definitely worth it and can give any board that extra oomph!

Payment

Payments will be accepted through PayPal once commission is completed.

(I do accept payments in installments for large boards and sets, but it must be paid in full within 30 days of completion of the commission.)

If you would like examples of my previous boards, please just send a DM!

Commissions Are Open!

Slots 1, 2, and 3 are currently open.

#moodboards #mood boards #moodboard #aesthetic #aesthetic board #collage #commission #coldflash #the flash #fandom #k i n k #legends of tomorrow

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monster-cock69 · 2 years

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little angel

Moodboard made by me and AO3 link here

Pairings: Peter Parker x Tony Stark

Pairings: Tony Stark x Peter Parker

Tags: Omegaverse, age play

Warnings: Underaged sex

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Peter was laying on his stomach on a lounge chair, a tablet playing a YouTube video, a juice box in one hand, and his plate of dinosaur chicken nuggets within arm’s reach.

Tony had taken his not-so-subtle requests seriously, and there was a ginormous playset and pool in the backyard. After the alpha had to go back to work, he spent most of his time there.

Clint –an assassin turned babysitter – was sitting on the chair next to him. They were both in their swimsuits, and Clint was already done with his chicken nuggets. Tony had introduced them a little over a week ago, and the beta sub was just as content to let Peter dictate their activities as Tony was.

He hadn’t met a beta sub before since most presented late or were neutrals, but Clint was pretty cool. He always pushed him on the swing when he asked and made a good Marco Polo partner.

Peter chose to look past Clint’s lack of enthusiasm for legos.

He finished the last of the chicken nuggets and moved to get back into the pool.

Clint stopped him by throwing an empty juice box at him, not bothering to remind him that Tony wanted him to wait half an hour.

He’d only gotten a stomach ache once but–

“I know, I know, risk my ass, not yours.”

It had become Clint’s motto whenever Peter wanted to break one of Tony’s few rules. He hadn’t gotten caught doing anything yet and didn’t intend to.

For how demanding Tony could be, he was extremely lax with Peter – he even let him masturbate without asking first.

“Can we go down the slide instead?” He asked casually, not bothering to plead. Clint never really cared when he pleaded or pouted.

He nodded, and Peter walked toward the playset. Since it was easily visible from where he was laying, Clint didn’t follow him.

Playing by himself was a bit boring, but going down the slide and on the swings was always fun for him.

A soft alarm on Clint’s phone told him when he could go back into the pool, and he let the beta continue dozing on the chair while he went back into the water.

His schedule with Tony wasn’t much different than it was at the facility. On the days that Tony had to go to work – which wasn’t too often – Clint would come by and stay with him for a few hours. They’d go outside, Clint would pretend to be interested in whatever game he wanted to play, and Tony would be back before dinner.

If Tony were home they’d spend most of their time building the Millenium Falcon or fucking. After doing the latter, they liked to take a moment and observe the hickeys they’d left on each other. So far Peter liked to think he was winning.

It was a simple existence, but one that he loved.

He wound up falling asleep on his spaceship bed after his shower.

Tony woke him with a soft, “Hey Pete,” and lifted him up gently, “I want you to meet some friends of mine.”

Two men that he hadn’t met before were standing in the living room, both in pristine suits the same way Tony was. Sitting on the couch was Clint, who look like he’d also just woken up.

“Goldielocks is Steve, and the bear is Bucky. You’re gonna come back tomorrow with them after you sit through my meeting with me.” Tony ran a hand up and down his back, dragging Peter back down into a light doze.

He huffed into Tony’s neck, eyeing the two strange men. They both looked like stereotypical alpha doms, so he didn’t know why Tony would have them watch him.

“If you guys wanna stay for dinner, I’m sure Kate made more than enough.” Thankfully the other three declined. Peter wouldn’t have minded Clint staying, but he was hoping to convince Tony to fuck him.

When they’d left, he started pressing gentle kisses to Tony’s neck. He was still half asleep but the alpha’s scent made him feel warm and fuzzy in the best way.

“If you’re this worked up from just my scent, I’ll have to get you a plug for tomorrow’s meeting.” The hand that had been rubbing his back started to play with the waistband of his underwear, under the oversized shirt he’d borrowed from the alpha.

“Don’t you want to go?” He asked when he didn’t get an answer. It was true, Peter had asked to go to work with him in some form after realizing most of Tony’s job was to hold meetings. Being a mob boss sounded boring somehow and he wanted to see how it worked.

“But I’ll be good,” he argued uselessly. Peter had come to realize that there wasn’t much use in arguing with Tony once his mind was made up. Plus, he kinda liked pussy plugs. The ones he’s used in the past were short dildos with knots that stood locked inside him until they were pulled out. Most times, Dr. Phil used them to keep a medication inside him but Peter guessed it’d be used to keep Tony’s cum in.

He just didn’t like the idea that Tony only wanted him to have it so he wouldn’t act out.

“You’re always good. I just don’t want to have to fuck you in front of my men and you always get so wet when you sit in my lap.”

Peter stared, unconvinced until Tony tacked on, “And you can give me a few hickeys if you keep quiet.”

“Fine,” he conceded with an annoyed huff, going back to pressing kisses on the alpha’s neck. Tony was always agreeable to benign marked up by him, and Peter loved seeing the hickeys he left.

Tony’s breathing grew heavy as he led them to the recently vacated couch. He’d never ridden Tony before, but as the alpha stood him between his legs he felt his excitement bubble up. He pulled his shirt off and tugged down his underwear while Tony pulled open his pants.

Tony was already at half mast, and Peter was hard as could be, clear precum already beading at the head of his cock.

His throat went dry at the sight of Tony’s cock. He’d only ever had it in his mouth once, but it didn’t seem right to have Tony get himself ready.

Peter went to his knees gracelessly, hands smoothing at his alpha’s thighs. He was still dressed, pants open enough to have his cock freed and belt buckle resting gently on his thigh.

Tony ran a hand through his hair, a string of encouragement quietly fell from his lips.

He started slowly, kissing gently at the tip of Tony’s length and holding the base with one hand. If he kept at it long enough for his cock to inflate, Peter wouldn’t be able to hold him with just one hand.

The hitch in Tony’s breath spurred him along. He wrapped his lips around the head, lightly sucking.

Peter was slowly being pulled forward by Tony’s gentle hand in his hair, more and more of the impossibly large length being forced into his mouth.

He couldn’t stop himself from moaning, small sounds that reverberated down Tony’s shaft. There was no way he’d be able to take Tony all the way in his mouth, and he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to massage his knot well enough for him to enjoy it.

But Tony didn’t seem to mind at all. He was softly rocking into Peter’s mouth and had his head tipped back. Peter’s cock was steadily dripping, so hard that he was close to begging Tony to fuck him. His cunt was sopping wet, feeling emptier than it ever had before.

The taste of Tony’s precum had started to fill his mouth, making Peter feel like he was on fire. It invaded his senses, made him burn bright with anticipation, and made his mouth water even more.

His fingers itched to wrap around his own cock, but he felt like if he didn’t use his free hand to brace himself he’d start choking on Tony’s cock. As it was, he was fighting his own gag reflex, breathing carefully through his nose, and the hand around Tony’s shaft was covered in spit.

Had it not been for Tony’s tight grip in his hair and the impossibly hard dick in his mouth he’d have thought he looked ridiculous.

Tony pulled him off with a drawn out moan, pupils blown so widely that his chocolate brown eyes looked almost black.

“C’mon baby,” he rasped, chest heaving almost as headily as Peter’s was. He patted his lap in invitation and Peter scrambled to straddle him.

Tony reached a hand between his thighs that Peter slapped away sharply, “No, I’m ready, ‘m ready,” he babbled and directed Tony’s hand to guide his cock into him.

His thighs were shaking with the effort of holding himself up, and he gave into the urge to sink down. Curses fell from his lips at the sudden stretch, but he rocked into it faster, chasing an orgasm that was only a hairsbreadth away.

Tony started jerking him off slowly, a complete juxtaposition to the way Peter was frantically riding him.

He came almost instantly – the dual sensations of Tony’s cock hitting all of the right spots and the slow, easy handjob were too much for him.

Tony put his hands on his hips and helped him move faster, using Peter’s body to get himself off.

It sent Peter into subspace slowly. He hadn’t properly gone down before. During his early days at the hospital he’d be thrown down harshly if the medication disagreed with him, but nothing as nice as this – a slow lapping at his brain telling him that he was safe, that this was good.

It was like heaven.

#little angel #starker #nff #starker nff #omegaverse #peter parker #avengers #marvel #tony stark #spiderman #belle writes #omega peter #alpha tony #mob au #there's like no actual mobtivities though

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sarasa-cat · 7 months

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NoNaNo Day 7

Honestly, the sun sorta came up. The sun went down. Even though I am home, I have more coffee, the cats are fed, and I spent a few minutes mucking around in GB3 making minor changes to the skin tone of my new Yennefer of Faerun while trying to kick start my brain with more coffee (i now have a pretty good facsimile of Witcher 3 video game yennefer) --- despite all of that.

My desire to word words is not happening. And that's fine.

I think a rather brutal, punishing 7k (all elevation changes, many elevations) during whatever passed for noonday sun killed me dead. And then I was too damn hungry to just go home and cook/scrounge, and the lunch place I wanted to go to was closed today, so I had to chance it with a place that ended up being a big mistake (omfg so tasteless, so heavy, so uuggghhhhh sticking to my ribs and hurting). That was when I searched on my phone if the current flu & covid vaccines temporarily REDUCE aerobic capacity and the answer is Statistically Significant YES but, also, that exercise will boost the immunity response (which is good). SO..... yeah. Killed myself dead but for a good cause? Buuhhhhhhhhh..

When I got home, I flopped onto the couch and just stared at the ceiling while my cats looked into my eyes. Feed us. Feeeeeed us. (I could not move).

The upshot is: I'm not writing.

Even though this is a day that is wide open for me therefore a perfect day to bang out all of the words, IT AIN'T HAPPENING. (and the fact that I wanted to type all the words last week when I was overscheduled, as that is entirely how my life is on my weird fortnightly schedule? Well, fuck it. That's life.)

Today I don't feel like writing. I am devoid of words. Writing this post is epic effort because my brain is in images only mode. Sounds and pictures. Not words.

BUT HERE IS WHAT I DID DO and WHAT I PLAN ON DOING for the rest of today.

ONE: I started listening to an audiobook that is giving me ideas for one of my on going NONFICTION projects. YAY! I'm gonna let those ideas marinate. I listened to a little over an HOUR of that book. That was lots of ideas. Into the brain meat.

TWO: I am still feeling like I have a haphazard system for keeping all of my writing stuff organized --- it became haphazard thanks to entropy despite once being super organized. I AM GOING TO CONTINUE FIXING THAT SYSTEM TODAY. Because that is brain dead office worker work and perfect for an exhausted body-brain day.

THREE: I have lots of moodboard images that I need to organize and start printing out and placing them together in helpful places. I'M DOING THAT THIS WEEK and maybe even TODAY.

FOUR: I'm gonna fill the creative well with some BG3 late this evening and this play through requires me to think about "What would Yennefer do in this situation" which is character analysis and story analysis and good for writer brain.

#NoNaNo #(not that I mean to sound particularly cranky in this #i'm just really still dragging my meat around the house #waiting for the coffee to help #and its not #which means i need more #also: should have used my sunlamp-glasses today #in the morning #bc fml actual solar rays are now gone for a couple of months)

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eddiebillysteve · 2 years

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cat and mouse

(( harringroveson prison au )) chapter fourteen | find it on ao3 HERE

a/n | planning on uploading a chapter every saturday from here on out !! also don't forget to check out @leticheecopae's sister fic pit of vipers bcus it is SO good and connects so much to mine (and will even more as it progresses!) thank you for reading!!! i would love to hear your thoughts and comments!! :') aLSO would love to give a shoutout to my first ko-fi supporter because?? i could barely believe it!!! so a massive thank you to ada <333

warnings | anti-religion comments? if that's what it'd be called?, daddy kink, dom/sub themes, punishments, possessiveness, murder/suicide, drugs/failed overdose mention, steve being a gay panicked confused mess (this is a permanent tag), he's also being trained with candies and i'm not sorry about it, general prison talk, stuff like that !!

tag list | @whoringrove @darkandstormyslash @devotionsofmaryoliver @nowhereinthedenn @cherixsays - let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future updates or removed from the list !!

moodboard by @a-redharlequin !!

Breakfast hour was weird without Billy, even when they knew he was safe in his cell. Their table didn’t feel complete without him sitting at the head between Steve and Argyle. The empty spot haunted the four boys who were left, reminding them of Creel and his power and how he could so easily tear any of them apart.

Still, they made the most of it. Since Jonathan returned from being on watch, he and Steve chatted about anything and everything to fill the silence. Eddie told stories too, sometimes, but he was much more interested in listening to his baby’s sweet voice talking about Three’s Company or Duran Duran.

“How’s being nineteen?” Jonathan asked the morning after Steve’s birthday, taking a little spoonful of cereal.

“The same as being eighteen,” Steve joked. “Just really weird to know it was spent in here. My best birthday yet, don’t get me wrong, but–”

His voice came to a quick stop when someone was sitting beside him, sitting in Billy’s seat.

“Woah, brochacho,” Argyle immediately said, still somehow managing to sound relaxed, but Steve knew better. “Taken. Sit somewhere else.”

“Shit.”

Steve looked over at Eddie when the word stumbled out of his Papa’s mouth. They were staring at each other, Eddie and the blonde man that had sat down beside him, and the nervous look on Eds’ face made Steve nervous in turn. Really nervous.

“Your little boyfriend really thought he could get rid of me, Munson? He thinks I’m that big a threat, huh?” The blonde boy, who didn’t even look Argyle’s way, leaned in closer, almost over Steve to murmur his words to Eddie. “I know that little stunt was all him, so you can tell him you will pay for his mistake tonight.”

Carver was supposed to be dead, Eddie knew that much. He was on Creel’s side whether he considered himself to be or not, had used Eddie without Billy’s permission, and had to pay for his sins. He wasn’t supposed to have survived; Hagan had been told to subdue him and force enough product down his throat to have him overdose. Billy had told Eddie while in the infirmary, and Eddie had passed the message along to Argyle, who would vouch for him, at least.

The one that was really in trouble was Tommy for not doing exactly as he was told. Eddie, too, but because of how angry Jason was. He was desperate for revenge, nearly frothing at the mouth for it. Anyone within ten feet of him could see how he was refraining from throwing Eddie to the floor to start wailing on him.

“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life,” Jason hissed, and Steve leaned backward to try to put some space between him and the words. “You need to learn the word of the Lord, Munson. Maybe then you’ll understand why I’m not going anywhere. God only punishes sinners.”

“And you’re not a sinner? Aren’t you in here for beating the shit out of your girlfriend?” Eddie snorted and Jason standing up in two seconds.

Steve didn’t know what he was thinking, but he was up at the same time, standing between the two of them to block Jason from being able to reach for Eddie. It just happened, the same as if someone were to try to bully Dustin in front of him. His body reacted, went into protective mode. “Relax, man. I’m sure this is all a big misunderstanding.”

Jason’s eyebrows shot up, leaning back a bit to take Steve in. “Jesus, no one told me you’re getting fucked by two daddies now, Munson. Hargrove not good enough for you anymore? Just how loose have you gotten while I’ve been gone?”

“Right, nope. This isn’t happening,” Eddie stood up, shaking his head and waving his arms around. “Shut the fuck up, Carver. Think all those drugs you do have melted your brain. Didn’t know God let crackheads into Heaven these days.”

“Eddie,” Steve whispered, wanting him to calm down. He’d be in trouble if he got into a fight – not just with the guards but with Billy, too. “Everyone just… calm down. This is crazy.”

“You would both be quite wise to listen to him. This is a cafeteria, afterall, not a jungle. As feral as some of you may be, you are not animals. Sit and eat, or get to work.”

Every head in the room turned to look at the source of the too-calm voice that broke through the tension. Creel could silence a room just by walking into it, let alone speaking. Even the biggest, most muscular murderers were frightened of him.

“I will not repeat myself,” He said when no one moved, tilting his head the tiniest bit. Eddie immediately sat, grabbing Steve’s wrist to yank him down, too, and even Jason sat back down in Billy’s seat.

Creel had been the one to transfer him. He’d hand chosen him, had surveyed the prison up north for someone big enough – and potentially crazy enough – to give Billy a run for his money and to be a distraction of sorts. He’d told Jason what his job was, and what the consequences would be if he failed to do as he was told.

But even Jason wanted nothing to do with him.

“32566, it’s been too long,” Creel stepped forward, closer to their table, and Eddie’s grip tightened on Steve’s wrist where it was hidden from view. “Who’s your friend?”

Eddie couldn’t breathe. He’d succeeded in keeping Steve invisible until now, but his attempts had been futile. All because of Jason fucking Carver.

“Harrington,” Steve answered when Eddie didn’t speak, glancing nervously at his Papa.

“I don’t believe I was speaking to you, was I?” The guard’s voice was polite, but his eyes were so dark that they’d join the list of things haunting Steve’s nightmares. “32566, his number?”

“I don’t know it,” Eddie muttered, dropping his eyes from Creel to his tray.

“You don’t know it,” Creel sighed like he was disappointed. “Then we’ll just have to find out together, won’t we? Come along.”

This time it was Steve’s hand that was shifting to secretly grab onto Eddie’s wrist beneath the table, a feeble attempt to keep him from moving. After another breath, though, Eds moved to stand again.

“Not you, 32566.”

Eddie paused mid stance, almost frozen in place. He couldn’t take Steve, he was too delicate. He wouldn’t last two seconds alone with Creel. “I’ve got it. I can grab it. It’ll take me two seconds,” Eddie tried, daring himself to glance up and meet Creel’s eyes.

“Sit back down. I’ve finished speaking to you. Your friend may stand.”

He had never felt so helpless before. Steve standing beside him and not being able to stop him or do anything about it was a special kind of torture. The only thing he could do was watch as Steve followed Creel towards the cafeteria’s doors, sparing one frightened glance back to his Papa on the way.

Jonathan had gotten up and slipped out of the room the second Creel had made himself known, though. He’d run straight to get Billy, who was waiting outside the cafeteria doors for them, jaw clenched and steely eyed.

“Well, hello, 62097. I didn’t realize you were off of bed rest yet,” Creel stopped moving to stand in front of Billy, hands moving to fold in front of himself just like always. “I thought you were relieved from work duty until Monday morning.”

“That’s right,” Billy didn’t look at Steve, didn’t even acknowledge that he was there. “Just came to get a cup of coffee and heard you needed a number. Thought I’d save you the trip. 82894.”

Creel’s eyes narrowed.

“His number, Officer Creel. It’s 82894. Now there’s no reason for him to have a delayed start. I can only imagine how behind the laundry unit is without me there to keep everyone in line.” Billy's insides contorted in the same way they used to when he had to face his father while knowing he’d pay for it later, but he’d rather it be him than Steve or Eddie any day; Steve, in particular, would be crushed under a mere few words.

“How very helpful of you, 62097,” Creel replied; his voice was tight, irritated, and he pulled his hands apart long enough to gesture back towards the cafeteria. “You’re dismissed, 82894. You may leave.”

Steve gave Billy a look of pure gratitude before practically running back to Eddie. It felt like he’d been saved from a volcanic eruption – Billy had jumped in front of a bullet for him and would do it again without a second of hesitation.

Billy hadn’t met his eyes, though; he still didn’t acknowledge Steve, not even when he was scampering off. His blue eyes were stuck on Creel’s, the two of them refusing to look away from the other and be the first one to break.

“I shall walk you back to your cell, 62097. Make sure you get settled in properly again. It wouldn’t hurt to check up on your wounds, either, hm? Check to see if everything’s alright. Would be such a shame if you were to be out of work for a few weeks more by doing something stupid .”

“Yeah,” Billy cleared his throat. “It sure would.”

***

“One fucking thing, Hagan. Told you to do one fucking thing!”

Billy had burst into the laundry room a few hours into their shift. Two joints was all it took to get the guards to let him in and leave him alone with his crew for a bit. Their logic was that if Billy wanted to move around and fuck up his healing, he could. They weren’t going to babysit him, especially not if he was offering weed to get them to turn a blind eye.

“Holy fuck. I should beat your goddamn head in for being so fucking stupid!”

No one else in the room made a sound as Billy went off, Jonathan sitting with his hands over his ears. Billy was roaring, pacing around to keep himself from pinning Tommy to the wall. His anger wasn’t a full blown blind rage – it stemmed from fear.

Creel knew about Steve because of the fuck up and would know he was an easy target just like Jonathan by dinner hour. He was in panic mode, barely able to think though it. All he knew was that they were fucked – not just him, but all of them.

“Always comes back to me. Have to do fucking everything around here, useless fucking prick. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Eddie stepped in when Billy started to throw things around, cautiously walking up to him to touch his shoulders. “Bills, breathe,” He whispered, squeezing them tight. “Come here and sit down for a minute. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Don’t you tell me what to fucking do,” Billy snapped, shoving Eddie away, but there wasn’t any reaction from his old cellie. Eddie simply stepped forward again, reached for Bills’ wrists, and pulled him over to a chair when he wasn’t pushed away again.

“We need to think, yeah? So just – chill for a minute,” Eddie tried his best to soothe him without sounding condescending. “Steve’s fine, I’m fine. We’ll get Carver taken care of and then–”

“And then Creel’ll tear Steve to shreds for fun, and then what, huh? You don’t know shit about what he does, none of you do. Preppy fucking princess over there wouldn’t survive twenty seconds trapped in a cell with him,” Billy was up again, throwing his hands in the air, and Eddie glanced over at Steve.

If he hadn’t stood up, hadn’t tried to defend Eddie, everything may have been prevented.

“I have to kill him. Have to. It’ll never end,” Hargrove started up again, and Eddie’s eyes went wide. “I don’t give a shit if I get life. It’ll be worth it to see the life drain out of those fucking eyes.”

“Billy, stop. You can’t say shit like that,” Eddie went right back to him, voice shifting into something more pleading.

Argyle was up too then, reaching out to grab Billy’s arm. His grip was tight, unlike Eddie, and he shook him for a second. “No one’s getting life, man. Get it together. You can’t do shit if you’re worked up like this. Chill. Out. ”

With a shake of his head, Billy pulled his arm free and headed back towards the door. Talking about murder out in the open was a dangerous game – but everyone in the room could be trusted and the guards weren’t anywhere near. “This ends soon. I’m coming up with a goddamn plan to end him if it’s the last thing I do.”

***

“I want you to kneel down here, right between my legs, alright? Need to talk to you, sweetheart,” Eddie murmured. He sat on the bottom bunk, spreading his legs open before guiding Steve down to kneel between them. His hands were gentle on Steve’s wrists, only letting him go to touch his shoulders to press him downwards.

Billy shifted on the top bunk until he was able to look down at them. He’d spent the entire afternoon plotting and writing too many drafts to Chrissy to try to relay his thoughts to her without getting flagged or Max realizing what he was thinking, and now the boys were back from work and dinner hour to keep him company again. He still didn’t know exactly what had happened in the cafeteria, but even through his anger he could tell Eddie wasn’t right when he’d stopped by earlier on. Something had upset him, and now he could tell that that something was Steve.

“I’m upset with you,” Eddie murmured, his hand going to pet Steve's hair. He nearly took the words back when he saw the way Steve’s entire face fell and his eyes started to water.

“I’m sorry,” He immediately started, but Eddie shook his head.

“No speaking yet, Stevie. You answer me when I ask you a question, but that’s it,” Eddie’s voice was even, calm, and his hand shifted again to massage his scalp. “I’m not angry, but I am upset. Do you know why?”

Steve took a second to think, desperately searching his mind to try to figure out what he could have done. He had been a good boy at work, hadn’t even cowered when Billy started throwing things. “Because I… I went with the guard?” He guessed, looking back up at him.

“No,” Eddie slipped his hand from Steve’s hair, moving it downwards to hold his chin. “What did you do during breakfast? After Carver joined us. Tell me what happened, exactly what you did.”

Even though he was trying, Steve couldn’t remember what he’d done wrong. His fingers reached for Eddie’s sweats, fiddling with them as his eyes dropped to look at his torso. “I was–”

“Ah, ah. Eyes up here. On me, baby,” Eddie tipped his chin upwards to emphasize his words, and Steve forced his eyes back up.

Billy was absolutely perplexed on the top bunk. He’d punished Eddie hundreds of times over the years, but he’d never sat him down to talk first, not like this. He’d have him kneel for conversations often enough, have him naked and waiting on his knees for him, but there was something so intimate about the scene before him, something so gentle. It made his breath catch in his throat.

After sucking in a breath, Steve spoke again. “I was just eating and he sat down,” The words came out cautiously, like he was worried he was going to say the wrong thing, and his eyes flickered over Eddie’s face. He was trying to watch for a reaction, any sort of hint that he was doing good or bad. “And I was afraid he was going to hurt you and then the guard came.”

“Getting closer,” Eddie nodded, encouraging him to keep going. “What did you do when you were afraid he was going to do something to me?”

Oh.

Eddie saw the realization spread over Steve’s face – and then the nervousness that followed it. “I stood up to block you behind me.”

“Right. There we go. And what did you put yourself in when you did that?” Eddie raised his eyebrows a touch.

“A bad situation?”

It was hard for Eddie to resist smiling at how small and shaky Steve’s voice was. Even though he was frightened, it wasn’t in the same way he’d been frightened of Billy. It made Eddie realize Steve trusted him. “ Exactly. A bad situation. A dangerous situation. You intentionally put yourself in harm's way.”

“But I didn’t mean to. I was just there, and I thought he was–”

“Shh,” Eddie cooed. “You have to learn not to do it again. And how do you think we should do that? How should I teach you, what’s a good punishment?”

If his Papa wasn’t so calm, Steve would have been in full blown panic mode. He would have been convinced he was getting an M to match the H on his arse, and would have started to choke on his own fear and beg for mercy, but Eddie didn’t have Billy’s temper. His hands weren’t rough, he wasn’t squeezing too tight – if anything, his thumb was smoothing over Steve’s jaw, silent encouragement for him to answer the question.

“I don’t know,” He shook his head a bit.

Billy had some ideas from the top bunk, but he kept his mouth shut, staying silent to see just what Eddie was planning on doing.

“I’m sure you can come up with something, Stevie. Think for a minute.”

Steve let out a soft little sigh. He didn’t know anything about punishing other people – the most he would do to ‘punish’ Dustin when he acted up was lecture him about safety, maybe take away one of his little figurines or science experiments for a day. It gave him something to go off of, at least.

“Maybe no sweets? For today?”

“Just for today?” Eddie couldn’t help but laugh, physically couldn’t contain it. “It’s past seven o’clock. We’ve got less than two hours before lights out, I think that’d be a pretty tame punishment, but good boy for coming up with something.”

Eds didn’t know what was going to happen when he went back to his cell; Jason was going to be pissed as fuck, but he didn’t know if that would mean he’d get the shit beat out of him or if he’d have to listen to the blonde read out from his bible the entire night. He’d prefer the former, he decided. Anything but the fucking preaching.

“I think we can start with sweets. No sweets for two days,” Eddie decided, but then he paused to ponder for a second. “Open up Daddy’s drawer, pick some out.”

Steve hesitated, looking at Eddie for a moment, and then up to the top bunk. Billy raised his eyebrows just a smidge, challenging him to disobey Eddie’s orders, but Steve wouldn’t dare. He obeyed, opening Billy’s compartment underneath his bunk that held all the fun items. His drawer was only ever used their clothes, and everything else was kept in Billy’s. There were all the snacks, the makeup he’d just gotten for his birthday, a couple of books. He got out two packets, one of his favorite gummy bears and another that was a hard kind, before sliding the cubby back in.

“Good boy. Now open them,” Eddie instructed some more, and Steve’s face contorted in confusion before he tore the packages of candy open. “And dump them into the toilet.”

“What? No!” The words came out before Steve could stop them, hands tightening around the plastic packages. “That’s such a waste, you can’t just–”

“It’s not a waste if it’s teaching you a lesson. You put yourself in dangerous situations, and you lose your rewards,” Eddie leaned in further to him and his voice dropped down a bit. “Pour them into the toilet, baby. And then you’re going to flush them. It might help you remember not to try to play the hero next time. Daddy and Papa don’t need protection, okay?”

Billy hadn’t been expecting to find Eddie in dominant mode such a turn on, but he did. He wanted to bend him over the bottom bunk and rail him until Papa was screaming like a pretty little whore.

After another few moments, Steve stood up with a sigh and went to stand above the toilet. It may have seemed like a silly punishment, but it wasn’t just candy he was having to flush. It felt like he was having to flush that addictive feeling that came with them, the feeling all the praise gave him. It made him feel horrible, like he’d done something so wrong, like he’d been bad, and if he stayed bad, they wouldn’t want him anymore. He had to be good, had to listen and be who they wanted him to be so they would just stay, so they would love him and be his family for real instead of playing pretend like it was all bullshit. Even if Billy could be rough sometimes, and even if he didn’t want to do everything they told him he had to, they wanted him, usually so much that they didn’t care if he wanted them back. Eddie didn’t pull his hand away when Steve reached to hold one, Billy didn’t turn him down when he asked him to climb down and sleep with him after the lights went out and his thoughts took over. He didn’t want to lose it, lose them, like he’d lost everyone else.

It was a feeling he didn’t want to feel again. It was the complete opposite to the high he normally got from the candy and praise.

The hard ones were dumped first, the sound of them clinking against the metal toilet filling the cell for a few moments. Then, after another glance at Eddie, he dumped the gummies in, too.

“Go on,” Eds prodded, and as Steve flushed the sweets away, Billy jumped down from the top bunk.

It definitely wasn’t any sort of punishment he would have given – he was more into the physical kind – but Steve did look upset, the wheels in his head turning and clearly overthinking the entire thing as if he’d just flushed half his soul instead of two small packages of candy that barely cost forty cents a piece.

“I want you to think about this then next time you feel the need to step in,” Eddie reached out to twist Steve around until he was facing him and Billy. “We protect you. We look after you. Not the other way around. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” Steve mumbled.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Papa. I understand,” His cheeks turned red and Eddie brought his fingers up to brush over them.

“Good boy. Now strip.”

Billy raised his eyebrows then, watching Eddie reach out to pry the packages from Steve’s hands to toss into the garbage so their boy could start peeling his clothes off. He’d left his hesitancy over being naked behind while Billy was gone, and was far more used to being nude. Still, he didn’t know what Eddie’s plans were, his own ideas running through his mind at a mile a minute.

Even though he wouldn’t look at them as he peeled his clothes off, Steve stripped down to his underwear before them. Once he was clad only in his briefs, hands not really sure what to do with themselves, he looked between both men, waiting for more instructions.

“I think he should have something to remind him of what he’s done tonight, don’t you, Bills?” Eddie asked, still keeping his eyes on Steve. “Take them off, too, Stevie. I’ve got an idea.”

“I’m starting to like your ideas, sweetheart,” Billy laughed through his nose, eyes following the underwear as the fabric slid down Steve’s legs.

“I’m full of good ones. Could’ve shared them a long time ago if you’d of let me indulge this side,” Eddie joked. He held his hand out for them, curling his fist around them. “I’m going to make a mess in these, and Daddy’s going to make a mess all over you, and you’re going to sleep in it, yeah? And then, when we go to the showers tomorrow morning, everyone’ll see what a mess you are before you wash it off.”

“Well, shit, Eds,” Billy laughed softly and Steve’s eyes went wide. “Couldn’t have come up with anything better myself. Didn’t know you were into humiliating pretty boys.”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Hargrove,” Eddie teased. “I take it this sounds good with you, then? You approve?”

“Yeah, baby. I approve. All sounds good to me,” Billy pulled Eddie in for a kiss before nodding towards the bottom bunk. “Get on your bed, Stevie. On your back. Spread those lovely legs for me.”

Steve’s eyes prickled with tears a little bit at the idea, but he shifted past Eddie to do as he was told. He laid on his bunk, bending his legs at the knees and spreading them wide so Billy could stand between them at the edge and duck down enough to look in at him. It prevented Billy from having to get atop him and put any strain on his body – he could simply stand up straight and jack off above him, let his load out over Steve’s cock. It started to stir to life when Billy looked down at him, tongue snaking out over his lips as he got his cock out.

Normally, Billy was against wanking off – he had no desire to, not when he had two babies with four holes and four hands between them – but he reminded himself that it served a purpose this time.

“You’re gonna fall asleep with Daddy and Papa’s cum all over you, princess. Going to absolutely ruin your panties,” Billy muttered, more to himself. Steve felt around with one arm for the bears that lived on his bed all day. “You’re real lucky that Papa is so kind and gentle with you. I would have beat your ass bluer than that silly bear for doing something so stupid. But it’s okay, you can be a stupid baby. Only thing you have to worry about is pleasing us, we’ll teach you the rest,” He grunted, jutted his hips a little harder into his hand, before stopping and reaching for Steve’s, instead. Once Steve wrapped his hand around his thick cock, Billy covered it with his own to guide him along, setting the pace. “When I’m done with you, the only thing you’ll be able to think about is cock and candy and those bears, baby boy. Gonna be a perfect pet for us by the time we get out of here. Might get you a leash and everything when we get out, keep you close and spread open for whenever I need you. I think you’d like it more than you think, Stevie. Never having to worry about working, or bills, or any responsibility, your sole purpose to please. It’s what you’re good for, you know? Looking pretty and being a few tight holes for me. Can’t wait to finally tear that tiny little ass apart, fuck.”

The words didn’t hold any meaning, not to Billy. He wasn’t serious – of course Steve would be his pet, their pet, but it wasn’t all he was good for. There wasn’t a doubt in Billy’s mind that Steve would go on to be some sort of big deal when he was released, maybe a teacher or something with kids, but gushing about his faith in his pets wasn’t exactly his thing even if it somehow would have made for good dirty talk. In no way did he think his baby was stupid or incapable, he thought Steve was bright and clever and fun to be around, but he didn’t realize that Steve considered himself such. He didn’t know Steve’s insecurities and trauma and issues, didn’t know that words of him being a mindless sex pet would bother him.

He just didn’t see himself as being good for a lot of things. He didn’t consider himself to be smart, or clever, and he clearly couldn’t consider himself strong if he let Billy treat him like a bitch from day one. Even before getting locked up, he didn’t have much hope for his future, and it was even worse as the days went on. The only thing he felt good for was obeying them, and Eddie being upset with him had him questioning even that.

“Don’t cry, Princess,” Billy’s voice shifted to a coo, free hand leaving Steve’s thigh to reach and wipe his cheeks. “You just gotta learn, that’s all. That’s why we’re here, to train you real good. Go on, say it. Tell us you’re gonna be our perfect little pet.”

When he didn’t immediately repeat the words, Billy came to a pause, stopping his hips and keeping his hand still.

“Stevie. Say it. Tell Daddy you’re going to be such a good pet that all our friends are gonna be jealous, wish you were theirs. Maybe I’ll share you, train you to love it just like Papa. The more cocks you go though, the better. It’s what your body needs.”

“I’ll be good, I promise. I’ll be your perfect pet.”

Eddie let out a stifled groan from his place behind Billy at Steve’s shaky voice, almost immediately releasing into the underwear he was jacking himself off into. He’d been silently listening to Billy’s words and the sound of their hands around Billy’s cock as he got himself off; it hadn’t taken long after getting to look down at Steve on his knees for him. The image was enough wanking fuel for the next three weeks, at least.

“Good boy. I know you will. Did you hear that? You got Papa off,” Billy started to move their hands again, shifting his feet to position himself so he could spurt over Steve’s cock, his pubic hair, his thighs. He wanted to make a real mess of it just like Eddie had pictured.

As he got closer, Eddie moved to toss the soiled underwear onto the bunk beside Steve before sliding his arms around Billy’s waist from behind. The act made him stiffen at first, but he relaxed when Eds dug his nails into his skin.

“You close, Daddy?” Eddie murmured, resting his chin on Billy’s shoulder so he could look down at Steve, too. “Jesus, just look at him. Those big eyes. Can’t believe he’s all ours.” Billy grunted at the words, a signal for him to keep going. “Look how pretty they are when they’re filled with tears, Bills. You think he’ll cry real hard when you fuck him? I’ll get him all ready for you. Stretch him open, have him waiting to be filled right up.”

Eddie slid his hand downwards, pushing their hands away until he could take over the motion and finish getting him off. He felt like he knew what his man liked better than Billy himself did, could milk the grunts and groans out of him with ease. When he came, Eddie was sure to get it just where he wanted it, and then proceeded to smear it along Steve’s cock afterwards. He wanted it to be uncomfortable, for Steve to feel the stickiness whenever he shifted.

“Good boy. Now we put these back on, and you’re getting into bed,” Eddie murmured once Billy had backed up and out of the way, working to get Steve’s underwear back up and over his legs. Even though he was blinking out tears, Steve was hard, but Eds shook his head at him. “You don’t get to get off. Not tonight. If you ask Daddy after lights out, he might let you hump one of the bears, but you’re not getting off. You’re already too much of a mess as it is.”

His voice was gentle, kind, and he wiped Steve’s tears as he spoke, words followed by a kiss to his forehead. “Come on, into bed. I’ve got to go before they come and drag me away.”

It drove him insane, not being able to stick around and crawl into bed with his baby. He missed bunking with Billy – some of their deepest conversations always came in the dead of night. It sucked having to leave them every single day, even more so when he had to go back to Jason Carver.

He said goodnight to Steve one more time before standing up straight and looking at his old cellie. “Night, Bills. Take it easy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” He yanked Eddie in for a kiss before shoving him towards the cell door. “Get out of here before you’re thrown into isolation, Eds. Tell Carver he’ll be meeting Jesus Christ himself tomorrow if he lays a hand on you tonight. I’ll even end him in the prison’s chapel so he doesn’t have as long of a trip to hell.”

#billy hargrove #steve harrington #eddie munson #henry creel #harringrove #harringroveson #harringrove au #steddie #steddie au #harringrove fic #billy hargrove fic #how does one even tag anything #isn't it only the first five that count anyway lmfao #my writing

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vdragoncatgirl · 1 year

Text

Winter’s Dragonfire

chapter 2 - the audience

the hound/sandor clegane x targaryen female oc

roughly follows canon timeline (tv)

From a dinasty once defeated, a child with unmistakable silver hair was born in the frosted lands of the North. Her journey east awaits with a kiss of fire.

words: 5301

notes: Rhaenys stands before the king and meets quite a few… interesting characters 🤭🤭🤭. I’m really really happy about this chapter! it was the first i ever wrote for this story and it has been edited and re-edited soooo many times, and now i’m finally happy with it. hope you are too! (props for the beautiful moodboard: @poisonsage808 🤭) also posted in AO3! (link below)

A few days came and went that the girl spent exclusively in that tiny room. By the end of the fourth day it smelled very unpleasant, and so did she. Back at home Rhaenys used to be also a housemaid, so was used to clean environments. She had used that time to try and push the rubbish aside and make more free space for herself, but even with a clear floor to walk on, there was nowhere to walk to, and nothing to do except for watching the hours go by.

On the morning of the fifth day however, she woke up startled to a septa and two maids coming in unannounced into her chamber. They didn’t talk to her, except for telling her to get up and follow them. Rhaenys complied and walked silently behind them through the hallways up until yet another dark room that had a tub on the centre and fire burning in the hearth. The women undressed her and told her to get in the water.

The girl was the most relieved she could have been ever since being captured. They gave her a cloth to scrub herself and one of the maids even washed her hair for her. That had never happened to Rhaenys in all her life and it was very pleasant, but also a little suspicious. She didn’t quite understand why she was taking a bath in the first place.

— Why am I here? — she finally asked.

— You must look presentable for your audience. You look like hell.

— What audience?

— With the king, stupid girl. Shut up now.

Rhaenys furrowed her brow in confusion. She obviously didn’t know anything about any audition, but if she asked and the septa cursed at her again she would give in to anger. So she just stayed silent and let the women have their way while contemplating the fact she would have to stand before Joffrey Baratheon who sat on the iron throne. The thought made her shiver, but she decided not to think much of it. He hadn’t been king for long, and was also still a teenager younger than herself, so nothing too bad could happen… right?

After they got her out of the tub, they dried Rhaneys with towels harshly and brushed out her long hair. The girl smiled discreetly; she adored her hair and was very glad to have it cleaned and taken care of. The three of them also styled it in two silver braids that cascaded down her back all the way to her hips.

The septa went through the door and swiftly reappeared with a dress in her hands. Rhaenys had never seen anything quite like it, except for maybe the dress the queen was wearing when she first saw her. It definitely wasn’t a royal dress, much less than that actually, but it was a pale green dress made with more expensive fabric and details she could ever had dreamt of. The girl was in awe of the thought she was going to wear such a thing. It had long sleeves that almost looked like wings, and showed her collarbone that was eerily visible now that she was being so feebly fed. Rhaenys didn’t really like that, but upon looking at herself in the mirror, she saw that staring back at her was a beautiful young woman that looked just like a Targaryen princess. That made the girl flustered and giggly, but she contained herself to not draw attention from the women.

— You look half decent now. Girl, go call the knight to take her to the throne room. — said the septa, first to Rhaenys and then to one of the maids, who scurried out the door like a little mouse.

Rhaenys took her braids and put them to the front side of her body in order to stroke her hair. Now that the awe had worn off and there was a knight coming to get her, she had become quite nervous. When said man appeared, she looked down at her feet and didn’t say a word while following the clanking sounds of his armour around the hallways.

After a good long walk around the Keep, Rhaenys noticed the man’s steps slowing down, and she lifted her eyes to see they had finally arrived at a gigantic door that likely led to the throne’s hall. There were other knights surrounding it, and getting closer hesitantly, the girl looked inside and saw in awe the iron throne for the first time. There were rows of people on both sides of the hall, and also in the galleries upstairs, and on the opposite side from the door sat a boy with golden hair on the chair made of swords.

— Your Grace. — said the knight that had escorted her there. — Rhaenys Snow, as called upon by the small council.

The girl saw those dozens of heads turn in her direction and look directly at her. Her awe turned into horror and she averted her eyes, completely flushed. The king rose from his seat.

— Bring her here.

The knight gave her a bump on the back for her to start walking. The girl was wide eyed and looked down, grinding her teeth through such a tension it could be cut with a knife. She walked past an unlit pyre that was on the centre of the hall, and looked at it confused due to how out of place it seemed there. Maybe it was just the way things were. Finally, she stood before the iron throne and Joffrey Baratheon, along with his mother Cersei and a few other court members. Most of them she did not recognise, except for the grand maester and ser Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer. She wrinkled her nose briefly in disapproval.

— State your name before your King. — said Joffrey, and he sat again. The girl thought his voice sounded bratty and entitled, but she was known to make too-quick judgements.

— Rhaenys Snow — she said, trying to keep her voice loud and low, calm and contained but firm, all at the same time. It sounded like no more than a shriek to her ears, however.

— I little bastard from the North, I see. — he chuckled maliciously and cupped his chin on his hand. — I’ve been told you’ve been calling yourself a Targaryen, am I right? Is that the claim you make?

— I cannot make such a claim, Your Grace, but that has been what I’ve been told all my life, by my hometown folks and by my father. — she said quietly. The way the king had put it made her seem so stupid.

— So your father was a Targaryen man then?

— No Your Grace, my adoptive father.

Joffrey started laughing loudly, and Rhaenys saw the queen and some of the court joining in with light chuckles. The rest of the people were dead silent. She looked up at everyone spread around the hall and felt a sort of shame she could have never dreamt about before. It crept from her heart to her cheeks and turned them into a deep shade of pink. This was no mocking from common townsfolk, but rather a calculated session of humiliation.

— What does a peasant such as you or your father know about the great houses? — exclaimed the king.

Rhaenys raised her eyes and felt that usual rage coming up from her gut. She urged it to come back down, for it to stay silent, but it was of no use. Any talk of Ciaran was enough to awaken the worst in her.

— Your Grace, my father is a very knowledgeable man. He is a maester that has taught me many things. — she said through clenched teeth.

Upon hearing this, grand maester Pycelle gasped and intervened:

— Not only are you a peasant bastard claiming to be a Targaryen, but you’ve also been raised by an unworthy maester that broke his sacred vows? What a disgrace...

Rhaenys realised what she had done by the second she spoke her last word. She wanted to scream, but instead looked down again and contained her tears of anger. Exposing maester Ciaran was never her intention, but the gut rage had taken the best of her once again. If something were to happen to him for her own fault, she felt as if she’d die of regret.

— This is no way of speaking to your king. — Joffrey raised his high pitched voice, an irritating one Rhaenys was already sick of hearing. — Your mere presence is absolutely unacceptable as a common woman. I should have had you executed by the dog here already by now. — he pointed out to a huge man in dark armour who stood beside the throne.

He stared at the whole scene with a silent and grim expression. Rhaenys looked up at him and was caught by surprise. Upon staring intently, she could see half of his face had been burned and was horribly scarred. Maybe the king thought his mangled face would frighten her, but that was not the case for a maester’s “housemaid”. Rather than that, the man had a glare so intense she became suddenly entranced by him. He locked his dark eyes on her abruptly, and she lowered her head again.

— But — Joffrey started yapping again. — If you can prove you are in fact Targaryen, I might grant you my royal pardon.

The girl’s stomach dropped and she looked at the king with a frightened face. She had no idea what he meant by that, but by his means of saying it, she could only figure it wasn’t something good. She watched with huge eyes him give a nod to one of the knights, an ugly man who wasn’t wearing a helmet. He came with a large torch and tossed it in the pyre right behind Rhaenys. Flames rose all the way to the ceiling before resting as tall as the pillars. The heat made the girl take several steps back and cover her face with one of her arms. She imagined a very cruel possibility taking place there but no; that couldn’t be. There were too many people there to watch such a horrific deed.

— Don’t retreat from it! I thought Targaryens liked fire, don’t they? The dragon woman in Essos has been calling herself The Unburnt and saying she survived the fire from a pyre like this one. — Joffrey stood. — So, if you really are the same as her, walking through those flames will be no problem.

Rhaenys looked in absolute disbelief at the king. His face had a cruel grin, and she realised that insane possibility was becoming true right in front of her eyes. Her skin turned pale and her face twisted into an expression of frightened desperation. She was already 19 years of age and was well aware she wasn’t immune to fire.

— Your Grace, please. — tears formed in her eyes, blurring her vision. She didn’t want to beg or plead but she felt the heat from the pyre already burning her skin.

— I am granting you the chance to prove yourself! Isn’t that what you want? — his cruel smile faded; he was starting to get frustrated.

Tears started rolling down Rhaenys’ eyes and she let out a quiet sob. She looked at everyone standing next to Joffrey, and all had a straight face, except for the scarred man, who had his big eyes widened. Of course he did, considering he was about to witness her burning just as he once had. The girl locked eyes with him and sobbed again, but he turned his head away as if not to see what was coming.

— Stop crying, you whore! It’s all you women ever do! Face the fire right now! — the king had lost his patience.

Rhaenys turned her back to the throne and stared at the pyre, unable to move a muscle except for the sobbing. She liked to consider herself brave and prided on never backing away from conflict, but this was something else entirely.

— Ser Merryn. — said the queen behind her.

Suddenly, she heard the clanging of armour and saw that same knight coming in her direction. She turned her head in horror and took several steps back, but he grabbed her by the shoulders with greater strength she could ever dream of fighting, dragged her forward and pushed her into the fire.

Rhaenys was immediately engulfed by the flames and let out a blood curdling scream. Her dress was burning, the flames rising up from the skirt, the fabric melting and the fire licking at her hands, arms and legs. She was in immense pain, attempting to protect her hair and face, but holding onto her braids didn’t make them immune, and she felt the flames crawl up through the hair. She screamed even louder, but never for help. Only cries of pain and desperation.

To her walking through that pyre felt eternal, but it all lasted mere seconds. As she was pushed, the girl had stumbled forward and made it through the pyre and to the other side in just a few steps. Rhaenys got out of the fire and fell to her knees, still burning and still covering her face. Immediately, a servant appeared and tossed a large bucket of water on her. She felt the cold water extinguish the flames burning on her dress and body and washing the tears that rolled down her face.

The girl looked down at herself. She had her legs and one of her breasts almost exposed, the fabric was gone; her arms stung with the deepest burns she had gotten while trying to cover her face and hair. Said hair had multiple parts burned off, scorched ends flaking from her head. Her most adored feature was a lot shorter and a mess of burned silver strands, and was letting out a horrible smell. The face was only red, as if sunburnt, but her hands had blisters, the legs were just as bad as the arms which felt as if they were boiling. She grabbed herself in an embrace and sobbed loudly on the floor, still not able to believe she had made it out alive.

— Take her away. It smells disgusting. — Rhaenys heard Joffrey’s voice from near the throne, then the approaching steps of an armoured man. Fearing it might be ser Merryn again, she curled up even more into herself in fear.

But when the knight stopped, she opened her eyes to see the scarred man towering above her. Without a word and with an even more somber expression than before, he picked her up with the front side of her body facing his, as if to hide her. Her face was pressed to the metal plate on his chest and it was extremely uncomfortable, but still she clung to him and stained it wet with her tears. She heard his steps going around the halls and down the stairs and arriving at the cramped and dark room she had been living in. The man put Rhaenys gently on the ground and she began shaking uncontrollably from the shock, pain and cold. She looked at him and didn’t see the same stern face as before. He looked as if he was staring at a ghost.

— What is your name? — she asked between her tittering teeth. His stoic expression came back when she spoke.

Without answering her, he took off his cloak and placed it on her shoulders. Rhaenys clung to it as if she was trying to hide.

— I will send someone in to see to you. You’re alright, girl, you’ll be alright. This won’t kill you.

— Thank you. — she sobbed out the words and began crying convulsively again.

The man turned his back to her and walked away.

At night after several hours, someone knocked at the door. Two women had come before and helped her, changing her wet and burned clothes , applying ointments on her wounds, patching her up and lighting the fire for her. She had been freezing cold, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. Rhaenys approached the door hesitantly and whispered:

— Who is there?

— Hello, Rhaenys. — she heard a somewhat friendly man’s voice. It wasn’t the man with the scar, and it wasn’t Joffrey, the only two people whose voice she would recognise.

She was suspicious, but ultimately had no choice as a maid opened the door with the key. She looked ahead and saw a bald man, a little fat, wearing an elegant robe. He seemed very different from the other people in the castle, a foreigner, perhaps.

— Hello, my lord. — she remembered she was supposed to obey the court members, so she made a timid measure with her head.

The man entered the room and closed the door behind him. He had an expression that suggested he was seeing much more than met the eye.

— I’m afraid I haven’t introduced myself yet. I’m Varys. I’m part of the king’s small council and I handle… external affairs.

— I’m sorry lord Varys, for my appearance and for such conditions. — Rhaenys felt ashamed to be in his presence in that damp old room, wearing only a feeble nightgown that was given to her and bandages all over her body.

— No need for that, my dear. I won’t stay long. I just wanted to tell you something. —he got closer and squinted his eyes. — You know, I have a bunch of little birds all over the world. They whispered to me all about you way before you arrived here.

— About me? — she recoiled. It probably didn’t mean anything good if judging by how things seem to go around that castle.

— Of course. A Targaryen girl, lost in Westeros. Such an interesting story, true or false. — Rhaenys lifted her eyes at the sound of the Targaryen name but lowered them again as she remembered the recent events.

— Lord Varys, I don’t think anyone believes that anymore. The men at the Lannister camp said I would die if I wasn’t of use, and the king has already tried to kill me. I’m as good as dead. — she made a distressed expression.

— Don’t say those things, dear, not just yet. I came here to tell you good news. — he smiled slightly and mysteriously — One of my little birds whispered to me that Daenerys Targaryen already knows about you and is expecting to meet you.

The girl raised her eyes to Varys again.

— Is that true? — her mouth was slightly open in hopeful awe.

— It is, my dear.

— So that means… you’ll help me get out of here, then? So can I go meet her? — she raised her hands to her chest and pressed them tightly. That was the most hopeful she had gotten ever since being captured.

Varys’ smile faded and he shook his head in negative.

— I’m afraid that is not within my powers. I came here only to share this good news with you after the horrors you endured earlier.

Rhaenys’ shoulders fell and her face closed up on a somber expression. Her hopes were shattered pretty quickly.

— I’m sorry, dear. Have a good night. — the man opened the door and left quietly.

Rhaenys laid on the bed and stared at the fire. Her burns ached below the bandages. She wondered how long it would be before they eventually got rid of her, and how much time it’d take for the dragon queen and for her father to know she was dead. She felt sad, sadder than she had ever been, but there were no more tears to cry.

After an entire day had passed, with Rhaenys wallowing in self pity in her dark room with nothing to do, she heard commotion by her door. It opened to reveal two maids who entered in silence and again undressed her, wiped her down with wet rags, changed her bandages and put her in a dress. It wasn’t a pompous dress like the one from the audience with the king; they didn’t try to make her pretty, limiting themselves to only brushing her hair to detangle it a bit. They left without really saying anything to her, and she felt too numb to even ask. She knew sometime soon someone would come get her and take her somewhere to probably be humiliated and (or) hurt again.

She sat on the bed. She had been so detached since Varys had visited, she hardly had any energy to feel nervous or afraid. There was no point hoping to ever get to Daenerys that was now expecting her; she had no prospect of ever getting out of that castle, not alive at least. Staring at nothing, Rhaenys waited for the door to open and suddenly, it did. To her surprise, standing in the doorway was the scarred knight, standing tall with his usual scowl. She got up with a jump. Ironically, that was a face she was not scared to see.

— Come, dragon girl.

Rhaenys stopped on her tracks, startled by the name he had called her: “dragon girl”. Was it mockery? Didn’t sound as such, though why wouldn’t it be? She nodded timidly, again minding her current appearance and situation. Rationally it seemed useless to feel self conscious for not looking pretty as a prisoner in front of a guard, but she felt herself still clinging to the feeling of being helped by him two days prior. Not that that was saying much; he was the kindest person she had interacted with ever since leaving home, and he was clearly not a particularly kind person. She scurried to the door and followed him.

— Look. — she extended her arms to show him the bandages while they walked. At first she had stayed obediently behind, but decided to walk side by side. She felt very lonely.

— It hurt much? — he mumbled without looking at her.

— A bit. They wouldn’t even let me have a little drink to ease it.

— A bloody shame.

— Thank you for sending someone in.

— Nothing to thank me for. Can’t have you dying in here.

She didn’t say anything else. He wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about conversing and even though she had a lot to say to anyone who’d listen, Rhaenys didn’t want to bother such a man. Timidly she looked at him as they walked, her eyes slowly making their way from his shoulder next to her up to his face. Its scarred half was on the opposite side and she got to have a good like on his actual appearance. Her eyes widened a bit upon paying attention to that big strong man with big dark eyes. There was nothing ugly about him, not in the slightest, and she found it was quite the opposite. Suddenly the man caught her staring and glanced back at her with a side eye, and embarrassed beyond comprehension, Rhaenys turned her face away quickly as her cheeks flushed to a pink colour. Once he stopped walking, they were in front of a big sunny balcony. By the wall there was a small garden table with a jar and two goblets, and standing next to it was an uncommonly short man. “The Lannister dwarf”, she recalled.

— Is this it? — she asked the knight without looking at him, still flushed.

— Aye. — the man turned to leave, and as he did Rhaenys looked up at him and gave him a coy smile.

He looked ever so slightly taken aback by that, but only for a mere second. He then spun on his heels and left. She watched as he disappeared into the hallway.

— Rhaenys! — a male voice came from the balcony. She turned her head to see the Lannister man calling and encouraging her to come.

The girl approached carefully. Lord Lannister smiled as she gave a humble and messy curtsy.

— Hello, Rhaenys. Let me introduce myself. My name’s Tyrion Lannister.

— Hello, my lord. I’m honoured to make your acquaintance. I apologise for my current state. — she looked down at her bandages, ashamed.

— Nonsense. Please, sit. — she did, and so did him.

— Thank you.

— You talk quite well for a common woman. Did you serve some lord back in the North?

— No, my lord. I reckon it’s because of my father, he’s very educated. — she bit her lips, but decided to say it anyway. It was no secret now, thanks to herself. — He’s a maester.

— You have a maester for a father? — Tyrion seemed to have a lot of interest in what Rhaenys had to say, which made her a tad more comfortable.

— Well, technically I’m his housemaid and assistant, but he raised me as his daughter.

— That’s an interesting story. I’d like to hear about it. — he poured wine into his goblet. — Would you like some?

— Yes, please. — she made no ceremony upon accepting a drink, one she had been dying for and hadn’t had since she left home. — Thank you, my lord.

The man looked at her with curiosity in his eyes, expecting to hear a little more about her story. Timidly, Rhaenys started talking. She described how maester Ciaran had taken her from a traveler who came from Mole’s Town, and raised her as his own, and as a Targaryen. How they heard about Daenerys and the girl’s interrupted journey.

— I’ve been wanting to ask you, Rhaenys. Do you really believe you have Targaryen blood?

The girl stopped the cup before it reached her mouth.

— I think all the Lannisters that I’ve interacted with have asked me this same question, lord Tyrion. But I’ll give you a more honest answer than I did them. Yes, however, I think my father believes that a lot more than I do.

— How so? — he asked, intrigued.

— Father was very loyal to the Targaryens and was very happy to adopt a baby with silver hair. He was always convinced that I had this heritage. But how can I say anything for sure? All I know for certain is that I believe in their right to reign.

— Do you want to be queen? — Tyrion looked very intently deep in her eyes. He wanted to catch any glimpse of ambition she might have.

— No. — Rhaenys said firmly and without hesitation — I never have and never will. Daenerys is the rightful queen; she is the king’s daughter and I am simply a bastard, maybe not even that. I want to go to Essos to be with her because that is the only place there is for me. The north, this castle full of Lannisters and court members, they’re not where I’m supposed to be. Though I don’t think I’ll be getting out of here anytime soon, if at all. — she had started to wonder out loud and wasn’t even looking at the man now, rather at the sea with a sad look in her eyes.

— Why would you say that? — he pushed her to talk even more.

She talked about the hate that was bred in the seven kingdoms towards the Targaryen, and eventually touched on the topic of what happened in Joffrey’s audience, but Tyrion interrupted her. That was not what he wanted to hear about. He wasn’t at the castle at the time and felt a certain guilt regarding that.

— Rhaenys, there’s no need to tell me this. I know all about it. — he finished his drink. He had become nervous. — I’m terribly sorry I wasn’t there.

— Why, lord Tyrion?

— I would’ve at least tried to stop Joffrey. I have no problem standing against him, seeing that my family already hates me for all sorts of different reasons. He likes torturing the young Stark girl, Sansa, too.

— Really? Isn’t she just a child? Though I’ve never actually seen her.

— She is, but she is his betrothed. Also, her father was executed as a traitor, and after that he has no problem having her beaten anytime he wishes.

— That’s awful — she gasped.

— You’ve had it a little rougher, though. You’ve almost been burned to death. You’ll still have to remain locked away in here, I’m afraid, but I’ve seen that you get a better chamber at least.

Even though it was a minor improvement in her situation, Rhaenys felt relieved. She hadn’t had anyone to talk to for such a long time, and no one seemed interested in her, nor was she expecting to ever leave that disgusting little room alive. They drank the whole jar while he asked all sorts of questions about her. After a final gulp from her cup, the girl said quietly:

— Lord Tyrion, who’s that man who brought me here? — she looked over her shoulder, but there was no one in the hallway. He was a mysterious figure for sure, and she wanted to at least know his name.

— That’s the Hound, Sandor Clegane. Joffrey summoned him to escort you since he thought he might scare you. — he said, and took a sip.

— Clegane? — she recoiled with an awful feeling of surprise.

— Yes. He serves as Joffrey’s personal guard. A ruthless man, to say the least.

— Clegane? Isn’t that the same name as… the Mountain?

— It is, actually. Gregor Clegane is Sandor’s older brother.

Rhaenys' heart started to race.

— No, that’s not right. I… I can’t be near him. — she started breathing heavily and her eyes widened with fear. She was terribly afraid of The Mountain.

— Yes, many find his appearance quite… unsettling. Though I am no one to judge.

— No. That’s not it at all. — she shook her head — Clegane was the name of the man who raped Elia Martell. He killed the heir to the throne, he killed the little girl I’m named after, he’s a monster. — the girl was starting to panic. — I can’t be near his brother. He’ll be the one to kill me, won’t he?

— Rhaenys. — Tyrion said firmly so she would focus on what he was saying. — Here. I’ll ask the cupbearer for some more wine. The Hound will not think of trying to kill you unless Joffrey commands it, and if he does, I will not allow it.

— I don’t understand. — her voice shook a bit, somewhere deep inside she felt like she had been lied to again. — He helped me. Why did he help me?

— Well, Sandor is a killer, a vicious and rather cruel one I might say. But he can’t be compared to his brother. Gregor Clegane was the one who killed the Targaryen children and also the one to give Sandor the scars that mangle his face.

— What? — she furrowed her brows.

— When they were just boys, even, Gregor pushed his face unto burning coal. So if the Hound has helped you, I supposed it was due to that. — he pointed to Rhaenys’ bandages.

— That’s… so fucking cruel. — the girl had seen many fights between families of the people she would help, but never something so horrific as this. She was shocked at how someone could do that to their own kin, since she was yet to become familiar with how things worked in the greedy big families that fought for power around Westeros. — Sorry for cursing, my lord.

— Don’t apologise for that. It is indeed an awful story. Don’t ever let Clegane think you pity him, though. Otherwise you’ll probably see a different side of him that’s not so helpful. — Tyrion got up from his seat. — You’re a clever girl. Don’t let my family know that. — he offered his arm and they walked up until a guard that was nearby.

— That will be it for today, Rhaenys.

— Thank you for having me, lord Tyrion. You’re a kind man. — she smiled. She felt as light as a feather from the alcohol, a feeling she enjoyed very much.

— Please escort this young woman to her new chambers. — he told the guard, who started walking away. Rhaenys followed, and looked behind to give Tyrion a naive wave goodbye.

#sandor clegane #sandor clegane fic #sandor clegane x oc #game of thrones #the hound #game of thrones the hound #game of thrones fic #game of thrones oc #romance #mywriting #angst #winter’s dragonfire

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mx-werebat · 1 month

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Yayyyy!!! Fren <3

I have little to no friends rn irl, and the people I am friends with I wouldn't really consider close friends.

Your probably much closer to me then my friends irl. /gen, pos

And yeah. It doesn't help that I moved to this studio almost two years ago this July, but all of these girls have known each other since they were small children, so I just feel like an outlier.

I still love it though.

Random, but I spent like two hours earlier on part of my Poetry Homework, on a First Person Poem (aka written with I and me), but my teacher also wanted this to be a visual poem, like to really make it look *gestures vaguely* and the poem is exactly three pages because of how many different fonts and things I used. I mean, layout, colors, fonts, even symbols, I put a lot into it. I still have to write another poem and the homework is due tomorrow morning *sob* but I'll get it done.

Truthfully I have zero friends irl so most of my friends are online, however I have a really hard time keeping friends and that's lead me to not know when someone is my friend. ^^" /lh, nay

Try not to push yourself too hard or anything, sorry if that sounds naggy, just.. Definitely not a good idea to suddenly get way too overwhelmed with things y'know? Gesturing to my moodboard shenanigans. /lh, gen

I get the outlier feeling, when I was in school I was an outlier for many reasons but it also involved most of my peers knowing each other since they were children but I only came in at around.. Sixth grade or so. I had friends like for some part of school but then turns out they weren't really friends. I'm somewhat ashamed to admit this, only because people take it as a thing to fucking bully me about, but I did drop out so.. /lh, nav

#txt #askbox

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c-mccormick-arts246-03 · 3 months

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(ARTS246) Ch. 5: Syntax + Communication & Project #1 Critique

This week and the previous week were spent finalizing all the design components of Project #1. To review the assignment brief, this project's main goal is to create a music festival design system. This design system would consist of a hand-lettered logotype, poster designs that would highlight three main visual elements (the logo as the primary element, the date and location as the secondary element, and the headliners and four additional bands as the third element), a typeface to compliment the logotype, merchandise (such as a tote bag) that continues the theming of the poster, and a social media post in the square and 1080 pixels format (such as an Instagram post/carousel) to advertise the event.

The design of the logotype is inspired by my exploration of creating logos using found objects or imagery. Please refer to my third blog post for additional information on the process of creating my logo. My main objective for the logo was to create a design that embodied the look and feel of Congaree National Park while incorporating organic, handwritten type that gave the impression of a swamp, being fluid and loose. But I also aimed to create a fun logo that embodied the vibes of folk and indie music. After undergoing multiple revisions, edits, and experimentation, I feel like I have successfully achieved my goal.

The process of creating the poster design was enjoyable and allowed for constructive feedback from my peers. In referring to my previous two blog posts (specifically posts 4 and 5), the original design of my poster has come a long way, but the core idea has managed to stay consistent through the entirety of the design process. For example, in my original moodboard, I incorporated photographs of Congaree National Park, as well as fun, fluid, and organic typographic art and a jewel-tone color palette. I included all these elements in my final posters along with some abstract photos taken at Congaree National Park. Originally, I thought my photographs would be boring and dull, as I had visited the park during the middle of winter in January, in which the majority of the trees were bare, and the lush greenery was nowhere to be seen. Boy, was I wrong! I spent approximately three hours walking along the Boardwalk Trial, during which I became hyperfocused on my surroundings, specifically the texture of the trees and the boardwalk itself. I learned a valuable lesson about observing the world around me from an artist/graphic designer's perspective. During my observation, I took pictures of the wooden panels of the boardwalk, which were in different stages of weathering/decay. These photographs became the basis for the three design variations I created. For the poster component of the project, I was able to pull three different themes that all tied together to represent the natural beauty of Congaree National Park. These themes included the mossy green swampy wetlands, the hidden bioluminescent fungi and mushrooms, and the warm-toned hardwood forest that makes up the entirety of the park.

This component was also when I began to create my three variations of this project. In referring to a previous graphic design course, creating three variations of a design is always recommended. This creates a sense of diversity in my personal portfolio and is also great practice in creating multiple design options for a client while disciplining myself not to become too attached to a single design idea. Although this factor resulted in an additional workload for me each week, I aspire to include this project in my design portfolio. By doing so, I can showcase my diverse approaches to this project and demonstrate how I successfully created three distinct design systems that could function cohesively due to the unified inspiration drawn from organic and natural parks. I understand that some variations may be stronger than others, but this was a great way for me to improve my ability to execute multiple variations of a project and my time management skills.

I mostly used the "Trilby" font family in my advertising and merch designs. This font family worked well with my hand-lettered logo and its various weights and styles allowed me to create diverse designs that helped differentiate information and establish visual hierarchy. For example, I could feature the date and location in a black, italic font while using a bold, eye-catching style for headliners and band names. Using versatile typefaces is essential for creating a consistent look and feel across all design components.

The merch component proved to be the most challenging and difficult out of the required design components for this project, simply because I had no idea how to design merch! I have no prior experience in merch design, and I definitely encountered a learning curve in my search for realistic mockups. I spent more than four hours searching for free mockups that matched the look and feel I wanted to achieve for my music festival's advertising. However, this turned out to be quite difficult as most of the well-designed mockups required payment to create an account and access their content. I eventually stumbled upon multiple mockups that fit my advertising goals and downloaded the tote bag mockup from Creatsy. I chose to go with the tote bag as my main merch item, as the ideal audience for this music festival is individuals interested in indie and folk music and enjoying nature and national parks. I have conducted some research and, based on my understanding of this particular group of people (which I happen to belong to), I have found that tote bags are the most frequently purchased and commonly used item at any festival setting, be it music, craft, or local festival. Additionally, this group is generally regarded as artistic and creative, and individuals like myself who fall under this category tend to use tote bags as a fashion statement. Therefore, I believe that tote bags would be the most practical and popular merchandise item for this festival's primary audience and demographic. The designs themselves are also inspired by the original poster designs, incorporating similar imagery, illustrative elements, and the music festival's date, location, and logo. This was mainly chosen to help establish a sense of consistency within the elements of the design system.

In referring to the social media component of the project, I had such a fun time diving into the world of social media advertising! Prior to starting this component, I had no experience creating advertising for social media, but I have always wanted to! I found inspiration for my advertising from Instagram's music festival ads and searched for similar content. I drew direct inspiration from my three posters to create the three distinct variations. However, instead of incorporating the photographic element, I chose to include a more illustrative element by just incorporating my blobs meant to represent the swampy water of Congaree, as well as the mushrooms and the veins of the wood. I also chose to incorporate the three varying color palettes to connect them back to their original poster designs. Please refer to blog post 5 for additional info.

In reviewing the feedback I received from the critique, I would say most of the comments were positive. My first original design was inspired by the green moss and swamp wetlands, and out of all my poster variations, most people favored this one. Most of my peers favored my hand-lettered logotype and the illustrative blobs that complement the abstract photograph's texture. However, during critique, it was pointed out to me that I didn't follow the requirements for headliners and follow-up bands, as I had only listed one headliner and three additional bands/artists (12 artists/bands in total) when the assignment brief required one headliner and four additional artists/bands (16 artists/bands in total.) I am thankful a classmate brought this to my attention, as I was able to fix this mistake fairly quickly. I also made sure to refer back to the assignment brief before submitting my final project files. You can never look at an assignment brief too many times! There was also concern in regards to my logotype and location/date competing with each other. However, this design choice was intentional, as the goal is for the audience's eyes to be automatically drawn to the logotype, which then leads your eyes to the location and date next to it on the left-hand side of the poster, then the individual days, headliners, and bands/artists. The social media and merch also received positive feedback and followed the guidelines in the assignment brief.

To conclude, this project taught me a lot about myself as a designer and an artist. Prior to beginning this project, I had an entirely different vision for how I wanted each component to be completed. Originally, I had planned to have an illustrative, country-bears feel. For the branding design, I had planned to incorporate jewel-toned, rough illustrations into the poster, merch, and social media components, as when I automatically think of national parks and folk/indie music, those ideas automatically come to mind. This is also evident on the original mood board that I had started during the first week of class. However, despite those several ideas not being a reality, I cannot help but feel that I still followed the direction of my original mood board in various ways, such as the look and feel of my logotype, typeface, color scheme, and abstract photographs. The last lesson I learned: just start. In beginning design projects, I always tend to feel nervous and end up overthinking my design process. I find the best way to get out of your own way is just to do it! As cliche as it sounds, Nike was right, just do it! Sometimes, all you need to do is start something, even if it makes you scared or nervous. After initially beginning the process of creating each component, I found myself becoming more confident and comfortable with my designs. If I didn't know how to do something, I just googled it and watched TikTok/YouTube videos! I always tend to forget that even the most talented designers and artists in the industry watch tutorials from time to time! There is no shame in learning or relearning something, but getting over that initial overwhelming feeling is the key to creating great ideas. I'll need to remember to refer back to this blog post to remember this lesson!

While reading this week's material, I was reminded of a project I completed in my Introduction to Design Technology and Concepts course. This project required me to analyze the design components of a particular item category. I remember choosing backpacks as my focus for that assignment. I still recall the anxiety I experienced when I found out that the task that I completed in just one class period was actually supposed to be included in my portfolio for the GD+I Program. This made me very nervous as my professor hadn't emphasized the importance of spending a lot of time on it. I recall revisiting the assignment and making some revisions to it in order to improve my portfolio. Specifically, I adjusted the placement of the assignment in my portfolio and created an illustrative blueprint that highlighted what I had learned from dissecting the design of a backpack. I used a visual to communicate my understanding of the assignment. However, putting the memory aside, after reading the assigned material this week, I found the sections that discussed subtle uses of continuity in design, specifically logo design, quite interesting. On page 89, there was an example of the Olivetti logo that provided a great visual on how to keep a design consistent and clean. I sometimes struggle with this myself. However, the concept of the x-height establishing continuity within the design itself is really interesting to think about. I found that putting typographic design concepts into words helped me better understand them. Learning about the use of width, repetition, and rhythm in shaping text was particularly helpful, as I noticed that I already tend to use these techniques instinctively. Perhaps, highlighting these elements will not only help me reconsider my design intentions but also enable me to articulate my design choices more effectively instead of simply stating "because it looked good" or "because I liked it." Learning to better explain the reasoning behind my design choices will not only help me understand myself better as a designer but also help me better explain my designs and ideas to potential employers or clients in the future.

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pumpkincentaur · 5 years

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WIP Introduction: How to Break a Deadly Curse

In a world where humans and magic live together in faulty harmony, Katsurou Kuroda has been dealt the worst hand possible. He’s an Elemata, doomed to be devoured from the inside out by the magic he was born with. His doctor’s best estimate sees Katsurou dying by the time he’s thirty. Nihilist would be Katsurou’s middle name, if he had one--hence his extensive criminal record and the eight schools around Vancouver that have kicked him out the door.

But this time, things went a little too far. People got hurt, and Katsurou had to get out fast. Now he’s on the other side of the country, in a city he’s a stranger to--Maybridge, the walled magical metropolis on Canada’s East Coast.

Katsurou being Katsurou, things went a little too far yet again. After trying to steal from a witch and failing miserably, Katsurou has been cursed. He now has eighty days to live instead of twelve-ish years, and it looks like those eighty days are going to be rough. However, thanks to a gang of misfits headed by a woman with a curse of her own, Katsurou has a place to stay until the end--and, perhaps, a way to break his curse. Not the one he was born with, but the one he managed to get put on himself by being an idiot.

A strange group hiding within Maybridge’s many shadows is up to something odd, but they may have the key to making Katsurou’s imminent death a little less imminent. Not that he cares, of course. He was dying anyway.

Genre: ya/na urban fantasy

Themes: found family, delinquent kids, lgbtq+ relationships, neon cyberpunk dystopias

Status: second draft in progress

Current Word Count: 18,000

Tags: #htdbc, #maybridge

if you’d like to be added to the tag list for How to Break a Deadly Curse, either send me an ask or comment on or reblog this post and I’ll promptly add you and tag you in all future content.

#my writing #htbdc #maybridge #writeblr #writblr #writers on tumblr #novels on tumblr #i tried very hard #spent three hours on these edits #first ones that aren't like moodboards #also gimp is a pain in the ass #but hey I TRIED

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live-the-fangirl-life · 2 years

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Anywhere, Everywhere

A World Away Part 9

Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn - World Travelers AU

Travel Tip #94: Get lost on purpose

Part 8 | Fic Masterlist | MoodBoard | Read on Ao3

Warnings: Language

7675 words

*******

AUSTRALIA

The sand was soft beneath Aelin’s toes and made her feet sink into the grains with every step. She closed her eyes, listening to the crashing waves as she walked hand-in-hand with Rowan along the shore. They each held their shoes in their outer hands, allowing their shoulders to brush one another’s as their interlaced fingers swung lazily between them.

A breeze blew off the water making her shiver in her damp skirt. Rowan’s hand squeezed hers as he asked, “Cold?”

She huffed, walking closer to him and pressing herself against his side. “I wouldn’t be if someone hadn’t splashed me back there.”

Her boyfriend chuckled, letting go of her hand to wrap his arm around her shoulders and giving her room to leech the warmth he radiated by wrapping her now free arm around his middle. “Someone wouldn’t have splashed you if you’d have just gotten in the water.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to get in.”

Rowan laughed again. “Why would you want to explore hidden beaches if you didn’t want to get in the water?”

Aelin rolled her eyes. “It’s a secluded beach,” she reminded him.

“Yeah,” he rolled his eyes right back at her. “Still a beach.”

When Rowan grabbed her shoes, she was free to lift her arm and relace her fingers with Rowan’s hanging near her shoulder. “I was more focused on the secluded part when I suggested it this morning.”

They weren’t far from the cottage where they were staying. Technically a B&B, it was one of three lighthouse cottages on the coast of Hat Head National Park in New South Wales, a few hours north of Sydney. When the sun began to set, Aelin and Rowan decided to leave the hidden beach and walk back along the coast.

She could see the Lighthouse at the end of the cape as Rowan leaned his head down to hers and nipped at the shell of her ear, sending another shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with the chill. “I think we made fine use of the secludedness,” he recalled in a low voice. “I just hope it kept in the sound as well as it did the view.”

Aelin could feel her cheeks heating but she smirked in answer before tilting her face up. Without missing a beat, Rowan dipped his toward her and captured her lips in a searing kiss.

Their time at the cottage had been relaxing—so calm and peaceful. Especially on mornings when she and Rowan would sit in the sunroom for breakfast and coffee, and be able to watch the tide roll in. One morning, after having been there for three days already, Aelin looked up from her book and let herself watch Rowan work.

Neither had wanted to rush anywhere so she’d taken a book and he’d grabbed his laptop and they spent a few hours in comfortable silence. She’d been curled up in one of the chairs, a light blanket draped over her legs as she read, when a beam of sunlight moved into her eyes. Blinking away the brightness she’d turned to look at Rowan only to see that same beam beautifully highlight the different tones in his silvery hair as he typed away at his laptop.

It had been less than a month since he’s shown up at her door in Auckland, bags in hands telling her he’d quit his job. Less than a month of bliss and excitement and facing the unknown. Less than a month of exploring New Zealand and Australia together.

Some days it all felt like it went so fast.

But it was also the longest they’d ever been together.

It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows; there was certainly an adjustment period—ongoing in some cases—simply because suddenly it's two people in such constant close proximity. Figuring out how to shift a single traveler mindset into a pair. There was a learning curve, but she wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Aelin felt like she found another reason to fall in love with the man beside her every day.

Not the least of which was his passionate work in launching Coast to Cadre. After an amazing first week together, he’d finally gotten back in contact with his team in Dublin. Now, not having to worry about his previous job, he had more than enough time to focus on the launch and creation of Coast.

The first edition was almost ready, and with Elide’s help in designing and structuring the site, it was set to go live by the end of the week.

“Aelin,” Rowan’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Aelin.”

“Hm? What?” She blinked and found Rowan looking at her with a soft grin.

“I asked if you wanted to take a break.” He told her and she finally noticed his closed laptop.

“Yeah,” Aelin nodded, standing from the chair, and stretching her arms above her head. She caught the blanket before it fell to the ground and walked to the seat at the table across from Rowan. “Hey, why don’t we hike that trail they showed us? The one that goes into the rainforest behind the property.”

Rowan huffed a laugh. “You just want to see a koala bear.”

A wide grin spread across her face as she nodded and gushed, “They’re just so cute!”

He picked up his laptop and stood from the table. She followed suit with her book, and they made their way back to their room to drop their stuff off. Before they left the sunroom though, Rowan jerked his head towards the front lawn of the cottages and asked with a raised brow, “Cuter than all the kangaroos chilling outside?”

She paused to think about it. “Okay, that’s an unfair question because I didn’t know kangaroos could be that small and fluffy.”

“They're not fluffy.”

“They look fluffy.” She argued with a laugh. “And I didn’t expect a bunch of them to just be relaxing on the grass.”

No, it had caught her off-guard their first day when two small kangaroos approached the property and settled in the shade beneath one of the trees. She was even more surprised when more of them followed suit soon after. And every day since.

Rowan smirked but tugged her along. “Come on, let’s go find some of Australia’s non-deadly animals.”

***

TURKEY

“Istanbul was Constantinople, now it’s Istanbul not Constantinople,” Aelin mindlessly hummed the tune as she and Rowan situated themselves on the cushioned rooftop outlook.

“Fireheart,” Rowan groaned with loving irritation. “Please stop singing that song. I only just got it out of my head, I can’t have that on constant loop again.”

Aelin laughed and fell backward onto a particularly colorful embroidered pillow, waggling her eyebrows at her boyfriend with a smirk. “Been a long time gone, Constantinople” she sang the next lyric but stopped with another laugh when Rowan shot her a very impressive glower.

“We’re not even in Istanbul anymore,” he muttered, shaking his head, but Aelin caught the way he was trying not to smile.

The song had risen from the recesses of her memory as soon as they’d stepped foot in the transcontinental city. She’d been humming it while they walked through the Grand Bazaar, when they sailed along the Bosphorus river, even during their visits to the Blue Mosque and the Hagia Sophia.

But Rowan was right, they’d left the city the week before. Now they had reserved a beautiful little outlook, one of many embellished with the colorful throws and intricately sewn pillows, to watch the Cappadocia Hot Air Balloon Festival.

Coming here to Cappadocia had been on her list for as long as she could remember. Yes, most everything was on her list, but this especially. They each poured a glass of tea before taking seats near the railing to get the best view. Dozens of large, decorated hot air balloons floated around them and Aelin loosed a contented sigh.

The relative silence was broken by Rowan mumbling under his breath, low enough that she could only make out the words fire, safe, and dangerous.

“Relax, Buzzard” Aelin rolled her eyes and nudged his shoulder with her own. “They fly tours literally every day, whichever one we’re taking tomorrow will be perfectly safe.”

Rowan wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and she leaned more fully into his side. When she didn't say anything else, he prodded, “What, no bird joke about flying?”

She smirked but kept her eyes on the brightly colored balloons filling the sky. “Why bother when you point it out so wonderfully?”

Rowan snorted and teasingly pinched her side making her squeal and twist even closer into him.

Like his earlier mutterings, she also heard when Rowan unconsciously began humming the Istanbul tune, only to catch himself and scowl, irritated by the catchy song and making her grin into her tea.

They watched the balloons continue to lift off. Most were the standard bulb shape, but some were specially designed into animals, characters, or ordinary things. They were all different; each color scheme and design pattern were unique which made the sky look like a canvas splattered with rainbow paints.

When Rowan stood up a little while later, Aelin held her arm out and he wrapped a hand around hers, pulling her to her feet. He used her momentum to pull her close to him, moving his hands to her waist as she wrapped hers around his neck.

The way Rowan was looking at her, his green eyes darkening and thumbs beginning to trace slow circles across her skin, made her breath hitch. He leaned his face down and she turned her head so that, regrettably, instead of meeting his lips in a kiss, hers brushed against the arch of his ear. She held in a smirk when his grip immediately tightened.

Her fingers combed through the hair at the nape of Rowan’s neck, and she savored the feel of the soft strands against her skin. In a low, sultry voice, she sang, “So take me back to Constantinople.”

Rowan’s hands left her waist as he shoved her backward onto the cushions, but Aelin gripped his arm and took down him with her. The two of them fell in a heap, laughing—Aelin hysterically and Rowan reluctantly.

The balloons continued to float through the sky, painting the view with a plethora of colors as Rowan turned onto his side next to her. He leaned his face down, rolling his eyes as he continued in a monotone melody, “No, you can’t go back to Constantinople.”

She was laughing before he finished the line.

***

SINGAPORE

By the time Rowan got back to the table, Aelin had already set out her dishes and was visibly struggling not to dig in.

“Okay,” his voice caught her attention, and she jerked her head towards him as he began setting down the food in his hands. “I’ve got sambal stingray with chinchalok and lime juice, some chicken and pork satay, and a bowl of duck noodles.”

He sat down across from Aelin, and she pointed to the plates she’d brought over. “This is chilli crab with some fried mantou. There’s nasi lemak, which I’m not totally sure what it is, but it smells so fucking good.” She let out a near indecent moan as she leaned forward to get another sniff of the spices, and Rowan cleared his throat to get her attention and stop his own thoughts from going south. Grinning, Aelin pointed to the final plate she’d found. “And plenty more chicken satay.”

He and Aelin tried bites of everything while sitting in the bustling hawker center. All the food they’d tried since arriving in Singapore had been delicious.

“Guess what I overheard the people in front of me talking about,” Aelin said excitedly.

Rowan knew that look; there was something new to see and Aelin wanted to get a taste of it. He set down the skewer of chicken he’d been holding and asked with a smirk, “Was it about the nosy American eavesdropping on their conversation?”

Her flat stare made him smirk harder.

“No, smartass.” She rolled her eyes and leaned in closer as her excitement returned. “They were talking about how the Night Festival starts next week.”

“Night Festival?” Rowan raised a brow and rested his elbows on the table as he leaned forward.

As if waiting for that cue, Aelin grinned and pulled a piece of paper from her pocket. Unfolding the flyer, she smoothed out the creases and turned it around so he could read the advertisement for the Singapore Night Festival.

The multi-day event would be held in the Bras Basah.Burgis district, the center for arts and heritage. It showcased both local and international artists with music performances, film screenings, cultural exhibits, and more eclectic talent ranging from aerial dance troupes to a kaleidoscope of interactive light installments.

“We should stay,” his girlfriend suggested, and Rowan knew that she was itching to see the festival. “We’re here already, how can we leave now knowing this is in a few days?”

Rowan rubbed his jaw, his fingers scratching against the light stubble, and thought about how they could make that work. “I’d have to postpone that meeting in Bangkok.”

Coast to Cadre had gotten a lot of attention in the last few months after some b-list celebrity gushed about how they’d learned of a hidden gem of a resort in Mykonos—because of their site. They’d gotten a wave of subscriptions overnight and used that recognition to reach out on a more global scale. Rowan was supposed to be meeting with a company that hosted volunteer travelers to work in exchange for boarding and meals in Bangkok later that week.

Traveling with Aelin, and working to develop Coast, had been the best and next best decisions he’d ever made, respectively. It gave him the opportunity to keep pursuing what he loved, with the woman he loved.

But as amazing the opportunity was to connect with people and organizations around the world, and as expertly he worked with his camera…there were still the necessary writing and personal connections that needed to be made.

Aelin, who had been supporting this wholeheartedly, had stepped into the role of something between a manager and a negotiator. It came easy to her, and she was far more personable than he was most days. Woven in with their adventures, Rowan would take photographs and plot out the articles to accompany them while Aelin took those points and elaborated, adding in a new perspective of things he may have missed while focusing elsewhere. They usually spent a few hours every week on phone calls or video chats with the team back in Dublin to explain the stories in detail. That way, the writers could create a comprehensive article to match the photographs he later sent to Elide and the digital team.

Aelin furrowed her brow for a moment, thinking, before brightening again to suggest, “You know, you could offer to expand the story on the volunteers. Connect them with Moon Moon—or that new marketing specialist, what’s his name, Vaughn? And they can create some sort of advertisement outside of the publication for the company as an offer if they would be willing to postpone your meeting until after the festival.”

His brows rose as Aelin sat back with a satisfied smirk. He laughed, “Fenrys hates that you call him that.”

“No, he doesn’t,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes and waving her hand dismissively.

“But, yeah, that could work.” Rowan nodded, “Actually, we could spend a few extra days there too and I can move the video call with Lorcan from next week to this week. That way I could cover the festival and we could make it a whole regional spotlight type of thing.”

“See, it all works!” Aelin winked as she took another bite of mantou, tearing off a piece of the fried bun. “What would you do without me, Buzzard?”

He looked at Aelin’s teasing smile, her blue and gold eyes alight with amusement, and her entire carefree demeanor. Rowan felt his lips quirk up as he grabbed her hand and ran a thumb over the Claddagh ring on her finger. Still on her right hand, it now pointed towards her as it had for nearly ten months.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “And I don’t plan on finding out.”

***

BRAZIL

Aelin sat at a small mosaiced table with Rowan, enjoying the fresh morning air and sipping a cup of coffee when her phone rang. She pushed her sunglasses up and grinned when her cousin’s name flashed across the screen.

“It’s Aedion,” She told Rowan who nodded, the curious look on his face disappearing as he went back to people watching.

With only a week left before Carnival began, Rio de Janeiro was bustling with preparations for the parades and street festivals. She could feel the buzz in the air grow each day as more people arrived, and the anticipation swell for the samba dances, costumes, and celebrations.

“Hey, Cous, what’s up?” Aelin greeted happily. It had been a while since she and Aedion had had an actual phone call, the both of them preferring texts because of their often-opposite schedules.

“Not much, you know,” he answered casually and Aelin could hear Lysandra’s laugh in the background. “The quarter ended with higher growth than we anticipated, they’re still doing construction on the building two doors down so the scaffolding’s taking up half the sidewalk, Lysandra and I eloped and are on honeymoon here in Brazil, your mom’s book club—"

“What?” Aelin screeched incredulously and Rowan whipped his head towards her, but she was focusing wholly on the phone clutched in her hand in a vice-like grip. “What did you say?”

“Your mom’s book—”

“Asshole,” she breathed but her lips pulled wide into a shit-eating grin. “You and Lysandra eloped?”

She had Rowan’s full attention now, his brows shooting up in surprise. Aelin tried to keep her voice down as some people turned around to stare but it was hard when she was torn between excitement, outrage, and shock.

“Yeah, we eloped—”

“And you came to Brazil for your honeymoon?” That couldn’t have been random, Lysandra knew she and Rowan had been in Rio for the last few days and planned to stay through Carnival.

“Can I finish a sent—”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

Aedion’s laugh echoed through the phone and she then heard Lysandra’s voice, presumably having been put on speaker. “We’re telling you now!”

“Don’t be mad, Ae,” her cousin tried placating her. “You’re the first person we told.”

Her brows scrunched together, and she finally took mercy on Rowan who’d been trying to hear snippets of the conversation. Aelin placed the phone on the table and hit her own speaker button. “What do you mean I’m the first person you told? When did this happen?”

“Two days ago?” Lysandra guessed, and added ruefully, “The flying threw me off on the timing of it all.”

And that was how Aelin and Rowan ended up on a regional flight from Rio northward towards Salvador in Bahia. A few hours later—after happy reunions, fierce hugs, and an impatient barrage of questions—the four of them sat outside a small café in Pelourinho, a few blocks from Aedion and Lysandra’s hotel and the Farol da Barra beach.

“Obrigado,” Aelin thanked the waiter after they sat down her caipirinha and savored the sweet, lime-flavored cocktail before pinning her cousin and best friend with an expectant look. “Explain.”

The spouses shared a look before Aedion took a breath and began. “Last week was crazy. I wasn’t lying about finishing the quarter on an unexpected high. We all wanted to celebrate.”

“Not just the quarter,” Lysandra chimed in. “But the first full year under Aedion’s leadership.”

He nodded and Aelin couldn’t help but feel surprised by how fast a single year had flown by, how much had changed for all of them.

“Anyway, one bottle of champagne turned into two,” he smirked at Lysandra. “And two turned into what if we got married?”

“That’s a fucking leap,” Aelin muttered.

“But that seemed like so much work.” The brunette added while eating a piece of the acarajé in the middle of the table, humming in approval at the spicy shrimp and fried dough. “And we just wanted to keep celebrating.”

“So, we headed to the courthouse,” Aedion told her.

“Signed the paperwork.”

“And said our I do’s.”

Aelin’s eyes darted back and forth between the two people sitting across from her before she shot a sidelong glance at Rowan and caught his eye. He seemed just as amused as she was when he asked, “And then you flew here?”

“Well, in the high of everything, we went straight to the airport before deciding where we wanted to go.” Lys turned to her. “Then we remembered you were in Brazil, but we didn’t want to deal with the chaos in Rio right now, so…” she trailed off with a shrug and a smile.

Aelin was quiet, letting it sink in as Rowan leaned back in his chair with a soft smirk and carefully asked, “You know that Carnival is a national celebration, right? Rio’s best known for it, but all these streets are going to be filled in a few days.”

By the way Aedion winced, they hadn’t. But Lysandra was focused on Aelin who still hadn’t said a word.

“Aelin?” Her friend bit her lip nervously, anxiously waiting for her reaction.

Blinking once, Aelin tossed her head back and laughed. It took her a minute to calm down enough to talk, but through a massive grin, she leaned forward and clasped her friend’s hand. “That is so impulsive and, and, spontaneous, and…gods, I’m so fucking proud of you!”

Lysandra’s face relaxed and she laughed along with Aelin.

“We thought you’d be.” Aedion smiled at her, and she grinned back.

They got another round of drinks, this time opting to try the cachaça de cravo, and Aelin asked, “So no one else knows?”

Lysandra shook her head, “After we called you, I called Elide.”

“And everyone else just thinks we took a few days off,” Aedion shrugged

The breeze from the beach blew in the refreshing smell of seawater and Aelin could see the elevated lighthouse at the end of the small peninsula, reminding her vaguely of the cottage in New South Wales. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself a moment to breathe in the calming scent and listen to the sounds of the streets around them, savoring the fleeting taste of cloves and sugared brandy coating her mouth. Carnival would be exciting, but this felt grounding.

Pulling her attention back to the table, she took another sip of her drink before pointing an accusatory finger at Aedion.

“If,” she began, her voice offering no room for argument, and held back a smirk at how her cousin’s brows flew up. “The next time I see you two, my best friend isn’t wearing the most gorgeous, perfect ring, then I’m going to kick your ass.”

Lysandra snorted but Aedion just rolled his eyes.

“Congratulations,” Rowan lifted his glass and the three of them followed suit. “To the happy couple.”

“To love,” Lysandra added.

“To spontaneous life decisions,” Aelin chimed in, winking at her boyfriend.

“To family,” her cousin finished.

Smiling, Aelin chimed her glass against theirs, glancing at each of them in turn before letting her gaze meet Rowan’s again and agreeing softly “I’ll cheers to that.”

***

FRANCE

Embracing the cliché, much to Rowan’s faux chagrin, Aelin and he found themselves in Paris on Valentine’s Day.

Having arrived in the city two days before, they split their time between going to the must-see attractions like the Arc de Triomphe, Sacré-Cœur, and the Louvre, and stepping off the beaten path as Rowan brought Aelin around to his favorite places, having been to the city half a dozen times at least.

That morning, after a delicious breakfast of hot coffee and fresh pastries, they gathered the necessities and laid out a large picnic blanket on a lawn not far from the Eiffel tower.

Aelin had carried the basket filled with a bottle of champagne, plastic glasses, fresh bread, napkins, and utensils. Rowan carried the other one—insisted upon it—arguing that if she held the baskets filled with macarons, chocolate-covered strawberries, and more pastries, then it would be empty by the time they arrived.

Despite Rowan’s attempt to spare the desserts, there were noticeably fewer when they unpacked.

“Rowan?”

“Hmm?”

“Speak French to me,” Aelin requested, snuggling into his embrace as his arms tightened around her and his head came forward to rest on her shoulder. She closed her eyes, focusing on the way his fingers had intertwined with hers.

She could feel the way his lips quirked up against her cheek. “Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?”

Suppressing a laugh, Aelin murmured back with an exaggerated gasp, “Here? In front of so many people?” She made a sweeping gesture at the dozens of people on the grass around them, all enjoying themselves under the Parisian sun. “Scandalous.”

Rowan huffed a laugh, his warm breath tickling her ear.

Arching a brow, she smirked. “I didn’t know you were into that.”

He reached for a macaron from his position seated behind her, legs stretched out on either side of hers with his chest pressed against her back. “You always think you’re so funny.”

Aelin took the second macaron he handed her. “I think we’ve established that I am.”

“Fine,” he loosed a long-suffering sigh. “Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?”

She clicked her tongue. “Nope. Tonight is too far away. How do you say in the restaurant bathroom?”

His low rumble of laughter reverberated against her back, but he leaned his head down and said in a quiet, low rasp. “Dans la salle de bain du restaurant.”

She hummed in approval before turning her head so that her lips grazed his as she replied, “Voulez-vous coucher avec moi dans la salle de bain du restaurant?”

The devilish grin he flashed her sent shivers down her spine.

The pair stayed there as the sun set and the Tower began to glow and shimmer with lights. Once the short show was over, they packed up their things and walked hand-in-hand along the Seine towards their dinner reservations.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Aelin told Rowan.

He squeezed her hand held in his. “Joyeuse Saint-Valentin.”

She chuckled lightly and nodded. “Joyeuse Saint-Valentin.”

When he tugged her closer and kissed her, Aelin could taste the remnants of chocolate-covered strawberries on his lips.

***

INDIA

Aelin’s soft gasp as they rounded the corner pulled Rowan’s attention towards his girlfriend. The hand she had wrapped around his arm tightened unconsciously when the large monument came into view. They’d seen it earlier in the day, but it was something wholly different now.

Rowan grinned at the wonder on Aelin’s face and reluctantly dragged his eyes away from her, following her stare over the reflecting pool and greenery towards the Taj Mahal.

“It looks…” she breathed, drawing out her thought to find the right word as he matched her hastening pace. “It looks like it's glowing.”

She was right. Under the light of the full moon, the white marble shimmered luminously, making it radiate an ethereal glow. The domes, the minarets, the arches—it all shone.

They had decided to make a full day of the sights in Agra. That morning, he and Aelin started by exploring the Agra Fort and walking through its red sandstone walls. After that, they strolled the bank of River Yamuna to the Metab Bagh, the park opposite the Taj Mahal where they watched the sun set beyond it.

He managed to get a few pictures of the marbled exterior seemingly changing colors as the sky turned from blue to purple to red.

Once the sun set, they left to find a place to eat and practically devoured their deliciously spiced tandoori chicken. Aelin also insisted he try some of her colorful, sugary petha…and he may have gone back to buy a second one, surprising himself and his almost nonexistent sweet tooth.

And after all that, he and Aelin went back to the Taj Mahal with their Full Moon tickets.

“You know,” Rowan said as they continued down the path towards the mausoleum. “This is considered one of the most romantic monuments in the world.”

Aelin leaned her head on his arm, careful to avoid the still-healing tattoo on his upper shoulder and bicep, and asked indulgingly, “Is that so?”

Rowan blew a few loose strands of hair out of his eyes. He thought it was getting too long, but the last time he offhandedly told Aelin he wanted to cut it, his girlfriend had convinced him to wait just a little longer. He glanced down at her own freshly trimmed hair, its waves falling just below her shoulder blades. “Apparently, it's considered to be a monument to eternal love; a Mughal Emperor’s exquisite tomb for his treasured wife.”

She hummed in agreement. He knew she’d spent hours reading up on the history of the site so what he said wasn’t anything new, but she seemed content to listen to him anyway. “To eternal love,” she murmured again and turned her face up toward his. “I like that.”

Rowan stopped walking for a moment and kissed her. When they broke apart, he swore the moonlight made Aelin glow brighter than the marble encased monument. “I love you, Fireheart.”

Aelin smiled again and pressed another quick kiss to his lips. “I love you too, Buzzard.” Her grin widened at his huff, but then she was pulling him along the path. “Now let’s get going before they close off the entry.”

***

SCOTLAND

“Try it.”

“No,” Aelin shook her head adamantly. “I’ll pass. More for you.”

Rowan rolled his eyes and urged again, “Just try it.”

“Rowan, no.” She laughed, swatting away his hand that had been dangerously close to giving her a bite of haggis.

He loosed an exasperated sigh and ate the piece he’d been trying to give her, holding his empty hands up in surrender. “You try the food in every other place we’ve been to, but you’re drawing the line at haggis?”

Nodding, Aelin struggled to hold back an impish grin. “I’m glad you understand.”

Her boyfriend huffed and stretched out on the rock wall they were perched atop, closing his eyes and letting the sun warm his face. Aelin absentmindedly kicked her legs back and forth, bouncing them against the stone as she looked out over the water and enjoyed what she was told to be a relatively rare sunny day.

“If my mother had tried to serve you haggis at dinner two nights ago,” Rowan pointed out with a chuckle, “you would’ve eaten every last bit with a smile on your face.”

Aelin scoffed. “Well of course I would have. I wanted to make a good impression.”

Rowan moved one arm above his head, angling his elbow to block the sun as he peeked one eye open and raised a brow. “I don’t get that same enthusiasm?”

She crossed her arms and arched a brow back at him, daring him to ask that question again when he knew exactly how enthusiastic she could be. “I’ve already made my good impression on you.” Aelin slowly let her eyes drag down Rowan’s body, snagging on the sliver of skin poking out between the hem of his shirt and his jeans, and the way his arm muscles flexed a little extra when her gaze landed on them, still sore from his tattoo addition the day before. She winked and her smirk turned feline. “You’re stuck with me.”

“Ugh, I guess.” He groaned but his shoulders shook in silent laughter when she immediately leveled a flat stare in his direction.

“Or,” she shrugged irreverently, gesturing to the water, “I could shove you into the Loch and let you get eaten by Nessie.”

He laughed and shook his head at her teasing. “If you did that, you’d have to jump in to rescue me.” He smirked at her arched brow. “I have the car keys.”

She pretended to think about it, looking contemplatively over the water before sighing. “I suppose you’re safe then. I don’t particularly like the idea of swimming with a sea monster.”

“Technically,” Rowan pointed out, sitting up and mirroring her position on the ledge. “She’d be a Loch monster.

Aelin narrowed her eyes at him and forced back a smirk. She lifted her fingers, showing him the very little space between her thumb and pointer finger. “You are this close to being pushed in.” Aelin couldn’t hold back her laughter any longer. “I’ll just call one of your parents. They’ll come to pick me up and I’m sure they’d be more than understanding of why I had to feed their cheeky son to the Loch Ness Monster.”

Despite her bravado, he must have noticed the slight nervous energy she had when mentioning his parents because he dropped the teasing grin and reassured her, “You have nothing to worry about, they loved you.”

Aelin worried her lip and looked hopefully at him. “Really? You’re not just saying that?”

“Did you think they didn’t?” He asked disbelievingly as he moved closer to her and took one of her hands in his own. At her overly nonchalant shrug, Rowan’s face softened and he waited until she looked at him to tell her, “Fireheart, when you and my mom were chatting in the living room—”

“When she got out your baby album?” Aelin interjected.

“Yes, when—wait, what?”

She smirked. “So, when we were in the living room…” she tried to get him back on track.

“She showed you my baby pictures?” he asked through gritted teeth as the tips of his ears turned red.

Aelin grinned and patted his cheek. “You’ve always had a really cute butt.”

Rowan slowly closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering unintelligibly under his breath. She schooled her features in an attempt to get back to what he’d been saying.

“When that was happening,” he shook his head again. “My dad pulled me aside and told me in no uncertain terms that if I ever let you go it would be the stupidest fucking decision of my life.”

Aelin’s lips twitched up when she thought of Rowan’s sweet father telling him that. “I knew I liked your dad.”

Rowan huffed a laugh and pulled her into his side. “And if my mom was pulling out the old albums that means she really likes you.”

That made her feel better. She hadn’t thought his parents actually disliked her, but she’d never been so nervous to meet a boyfriend’s parents before. Rowan wasn’t going anywhere, which meant neither was his family. Her smile growing, she poked fun at him again, “Are you sure it's not just because she was trying to embarrass you?”

Rowan was silent a beat. “Fine. It was eighty percent liking you, twenty percent wanting to embarrass me.”

She laughed. “Let’s call it ninety-ten.”

“Aye.”

Aelin hummed at the word. “Do that again.”

Rowan smirked and leaned closer to drag out the words in a low voice. “Aye, mo ghraidh.”

She gripped the front of his shirt and pulled him down with her as she pressed her back into the stone. Rowan propped one hand by her head to hold himself above her as he leaned down and brushed his lips over her cheek.

“Mo luaidh,” he rasped, his Scottish accent far more pronounced than it had been a moment ago. She loved the sound of it.

Aelin wrapped her arms around Rowan’s neck and arched her back, enjoying the way his free hand gripped her waist as she pressed her body to his.

When he captured her lips with his own, Aelin carded her fingers through his hair and tried to pull him even further atop her. But he pulled back just enough to brush his lips with hers—a bare hint of a kiss—to say finally, “Mo chridhe.”

When the breeze picked up a while later, Aelin and Rowan headed back towards their car.

They had spent a few days in Edinburgh staying in Rowan’s cousin Sellene’s apartment. She was out of the country for work and offered the place up as an alternative to crashing in the spare bedroom at his parent’s house. Just as Aelin had suggested during their meetup in Dublin, Rowan once again became her personal tour guide around the city, showing her all the sights and places he’d grown up. Then she met his parents and spent some time getting to know the people who raised the man she loved.

Enda split his time between Dublin and Edinburgh. He had been back in the city so the three of them grabbed dinner one night and he caught them up on everything from the latest ventures of Coast to Cadre, to his writing, to the way Elide and Lorcan held the record for inappropriate workplace activities. That had made Aelin nearly snort her Lagavulin straight out of the glass, and she most definitely teased her friend about it the next day.

When they left Edinburgh, she and Rowan drove northward towards the highlands around Cairngorms National Park and over to Inverness where they stayed for a night. Then they’d kept driving around the country towards Loch Ness.

Now, they got back into the car to resume their drive. Aelin had insisted that Rowan be the permanent driver because she knew that driving on the left side of the road all day would completely throw her off. He hadn’t seemed to mind. Not when he was content to watch her eagerly take in the sights as they drove.

Rowan took one hand off the wheel and intertwined her fingers with his. A minute later, he lifted their joined hands to press a kiss to the back of her hand. “Fireheart, that thing my dad told me?”

Aelin turned her head to the side, resting it on the headrest, and smiled. “Hmm?”

“He was only telling me something I already knew.”

Aelin squeezed his fingers and he squeezed back. “I love you.”

“I love you, Mo chridhe.”

***

MYANMAR

Aelin and Rowan casually walked through the Bogyoke Market, occasionally pausing to look at the different stalls. The range of sellers was almost overwhelmingly wide; one stall sold a variety of freshly made desserts while the next showcased fine jewelry and the one across the way displayed brilliant artwork.

They had spent their morning in Yangon walking through Shwedagon Pagoda, the Buddhist temple said to contain strands of hair from the Buddha himself, taking in the hundreds of gold-plated temples decorated with diamonds, rubies, and sapphires that shone in the sunlight.

When she’d pointed out the thousands of brightly colored jewels, passing a particular section covered in finely cut red gems, Rowan had leaned down and told her, “Myanmar is the ruby capital of the world. It doesn’t surprise me that so many covered the temples.”

“Ruby capital, huh?” She hummed and they kept walking. “I much prefer emeralds,” she told him haughtily, flashing him a wink.

“So you wouldn’t want a ruby?” He asked with a raised brow.

Turning to face him, Aelin pursed her lips at his amused expression. “I never said that.”

After they’d finished walking through the pagoda, they stopped at the entrance to put their shoes back on, having been required to remove them upon entering. Then they walked the few minutes it took to the market.

Aelin paused at one stall when a particular piece caught her attention.

A thought flashed across her mind—an idea she could envision before it fully formed. Glancing quickly at Rowan, she saw that his back was to her while he kept haggling with the stall owner across the path. Aelin felt a soft smile spread across her face. She turned back around to the man sitting behind the table she was examining.

She gestured out her words hoping the seller would understand, not knowing the phrase in Burmese let alone the pronunciation. “How much for this one?”

Chancing another glance behind her, Aelin quickly paid and carefully pocketed the small object. Then she walked back towards Rowan just as her boyfriend settled on a price with a smug grin.

“Did you see that?” He asked, draping an arm over her shoulder and intertwining her fingers with his as they continued to explore the market stalls. “I bartered down the cost.”

“See? It’s kind of fun.” Aelin smirked and patted his arm teasingly. “Remember when you told me that you hated it so much that you’d rather pay extra and call it the price for not having to go through the harrowing experience of haggling?”

He rolled his eyes at her bad impression of him. “Yes. You never let me forget that.” Rowan’s fingers squeezed hers when she laughed, and grumbled “That was years ago.”

“Yeah,” she huffed another laugh and he shook his head, trying and failing to hold back his own chuckle. “But it’s still funny.”

***

ZAMBIA

“Now watch as the mist clears,” their pilot instructed, his voice crackling through the headsets both Aelin and Rowan wore. They flew higher, the helicopter’s blades whirring loudly above them as they rose to get an unobstructed view of Victoria Falls.

Rowan already had his camera ready and was leaning close to the window to get shots of the crashing waterfall and Zambezi River carving a path through the gorge around it. Aelin, in the seat beside him, pressed her face to the opposite window, grinning excitedly as they flew.

As the chopper turned, Aelin looked over at her boyfriend who was adjusting a setting on his camera. Feeling her gaze on him, Rowan lifted his head and matched her grin before turning back towards the view. The casual button-up he wore had been rolled up to his elbows, a style he adopted regularly ever since Aelin showed him exactly how much she liked it. The muscles on his strong forearms moved as he worked his camera making the extensive tattoo ripple with every flex. He’d added to it a few weeks ago and now the design covered almost his entire arm.

They flew and rounded back just in time for a faint rainbow to be seen through the mist.

Aelin pulled her phone out and snapped a picture of Rowan. He was on the edge of his seat, holding the camera expertly up to his face, with the Falls, blue sky, and rainbow visible through the large window next to him.

It was a beautiful picture. She quickly sent it to Elide, asking her friend if she could use the photo during the write-up and design of the feature.

Aelin was so proud of Rowan. And everyone else at Coast to Cadre. In the few years since their launch, the team had expanded the web-based magazine into a physical publication. Their team had grown, they’d acquired new partnerships and investors, and they’d expanded their reach across continents.

Right now, Rowan was working with an adventure tourism company in Zambia. Coast was writing a multi-page feature about the company and its various excursions and offerings, and how it sought to draw people from all over the world to experience the richness of the country in south-central Africa. In part of that, they had offered her and Rowan a complimentary helicopter ride over Victoria Falls.

When they arrived on site, Aelin had immediately wanted to try one of the microlight planes, the tiny frames looking like a three-wheeled motorcycle and a hang glider merged together. But those only took two people, a passenger and a pilot, so they opted to stay with the helicopter ride.

They flew through the Batoka Gorge below the Falls and followed the curves of the river.

“That bridge there,” their pilot said, pointing to a bridge suspended over a bend. “That connects Zambia to Zimbabwe.”

Aiming away from the falls, they flew over the Mosi-oa-Tunya National Park.

“Look,” Aelin grabbed Rowan’s arm and pointed out the window, “that’s the lake we saw on the safari yesterday.”

He nodded and his voice echoed through her headset, “Yeah. And check out the zebras over there.” He moved her outstretched arm and pointed it towards a small herd of zebras near another body of water. Aelin leaned over Rowan to get a better look and he rested a hand on her lower back as she tipped forward towards the glass.

Rowan took some more photos of the park, wanting to incorporate the aerial views with the land-roving ones from the day before. Aelin kept her eyes open for other animals that roamed the park. By the end of the helicopter ride, she’d seen hippopotamuses, elephants, buffalos, giraffes, crocodiles, and lions.

After getting a ride back to their hotel, Aelin had hoped she and Rowan could spend a few hours relaxing before they set off on their River Boat tour that evening. But instead, he disappeared, claiming he needed to make a quick errand before they left.

***

Steering Aelin towards the lounge and its selection of local books, Rowan was relieved that she didn’t argue with his odd request with anything more than a skeptically raised brow. He at least knew the best way to distract his girlfriend…besides with himself, anyway.

He knew she was wondering what kind of errand had to be done now, but Rowan carefully played it off as something he needed for the article.

He only had a small window between their activities, and he’d already snuck off the day before while Aelin took a nap after their safari to look at the selection. Now he just needed time to go back and buy the one he’d chosen.

After all, apart from Columbia, Zambia is one of the best places to find an emerald.

*****

Part 10

***

A special thank you to @shyvioletcat @backtobl4ck @tomtenadia - you’ve made all the small details of this chapter possible

Taglist:

@acourtofsnakes @allthebooksunderthemoon @astra-ad-mare @becarefuloflove @booklover41802 @charlizeed @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @danibutterr @doubt-less @emily-gsh @enormousbooklover @foughtconquered @fromthelibraryofemilyj @hakunamatatazz @i-have-but-one-brain-cell @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jorjy-jo @lemonade-coolattas @mariamuses @mayhemories @midsizewitch @rowaelinrambling @morganofthewildfire @nerdperson524 @rowaelinismyotp @rowansfirebringer @sayosdreams @sheharahu @sleeping-and-books @stardelia @story-scribbler @superspiritfestival @themoonthestarsthesuriel @swankii-art-teacher @westofmoon @whimsicallyreading @moodymelanist @realbookloverproblems @gracie-rosee @julemmaes @yesdreamblog @the-regal-warrior @rowanaelinn @thestoriesyoutell @autumnbabylon @sunflowermoonshinewrites @maastrash

#rowaelin #aelin x rowan #rowan x aelin #aelin #Rowan #aelin and rowan #rowan and aelin #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin fic #rowaelin au #rowaelin fanfiction #tog #throne of glass #awa #a world away #world travelers

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magpie-to-the-morning · 2 years

Text

Insatiable - Part Nine

RATING: Mature (Whole series is 18+ ONLY)

Pairing: Santiago Garcia x Frankie Morales x OFC

Word count: 2.7k

Chapter Tags: Depiction of anxiety

Author’s Note: Heads up, this chapter veers into some of Dandelion’s personal issues, including being triggered into a fight or flight response. Also, this chapter definitely veers towards Angstville. I’m sorry! *ducks*

Thank you as always to @acrossthesestars, my beta reader, my friend, my crow. 🖤

Missed Part One? You can read it here.

Moodboard by @acrossthesestars

“Hey, man. Sorry to ask you to cut your vacation short.”

Ironhead, or Will, as he’d asked you to call him as soon as you’d been introduced, waves off Santi’s thanks. “Don’t worry about it. Besides, I don’t know how much more time I could have spent with just Benny for company.”

Frankie, leaning affectionately on Santi’s shoulder, grins at this. “How’s the pup doing, anyway?”

You watch the trio fondly, enjoying the easy familiarity between them. They’ve told you a bit about their history together, the four remaining members of their small pack. Without giving you any real details, Santi had hinted at a recent disastrous mission - one that had left the Millers vacationing not far away, all four of them needing time to rest and recover.

“I’ll leave you three to catch up.” Frankie and Santi pause to kiss your cheek as you head for the door, Will nodding to you with a polite “Ma’am.”

You’re not worried about missing any planning while you shop, already knowing the basic sketch of the plan the three of them will likely hone further: getting on a boat at Puntarenas, then a day or two on the Pacific, making your way towards the coast of Nicaragua, getting a rental car from there and heading for the airport. You’d talked it over earlier with Santi and Frankie, in between breakfast and calls to the airline to shuffle your itinerary around. They’d been surprisingly accommodating when you mentioned missing your flight yesterday, comping your miles so easily you wonder if they hadn’t seen your travel blog and been angling for some good press.

Getting that out of the way had reminded you of the need to pick up a few things before leaving. With your checked luggage long gone and already en route to your apartment for you to collect later, you’re left with only your passport, some cash, and the few other essentials that had been in your carry on.

It’s a relief to trade Frankie’s shorts and Santi’s t-shirt for a flirty sundress, one whose skirt bells around your knees when you give it an experimental twirl in the dressing room of a nearby shop. You’d gotten more than a few odd looks on the street and it feels good to slip into clean clothes that feel more 'you'. Still, you roll up the borrowed clothes neatly and tuck them into your bag. You can always wear them as pajamas - if you don’t spend your next few nights completely nude, that is.

The thought brings heat to your cheeks as you make your way back to the apartment, a private smile playing over your lips and your footsteps so light you may as well be floating. It’s only been a few days but you already can’t imagine sleeping anywhere other than between your boys, though you highly doubt that any of you will be doing much actual sleeping. That suspicion is confirmed when you let yourself back into their rental and their heads whip towards you, their expressions turning positively hungry at the sight of your new dress and the skin it reveals.

Those predatory gazes track you as you tuck your shopping bags into the spare duffel Frankie had laid out for you, only letting up when Santi hauls you gently onto his lap as you breeze past him. Pressing a kiss to your temple, his arms slide around your waist, slung low and possessive in a way that has you wishing for another hour or two before you set out. “You look good, leoncita,” he rumbles, his lips brushing just beneath your ear, a spot he already knows makes you shiver.

He’s half hard beneath his jeans and you bite your lip, indulging in the briefest squirm against him before you turn to the room in general and ask, as calmly as you can manage under the circumstances, “Alright, when are we leaving?”

Between the sapphire blue sky, the cheerfully bobbing waves, and the sleek, if aged, white yacht Will has sourced (you’re not entirely sure how and have decided that the fewer questions asked, the better), it’s difficult to remember that you’re essentially fleeing the country. There’s too much of a party atmosphere, the guys in pale, loose-fitting shirts, you in your sundress, and the cooler of beers stowed alongside your luggage making you feel like the group of tourists you’re posing as. The four of you have already decided that, in the unlikely event of being stopped by local authorities, Frankie and Santi can hide below decks while you and Will, posing as a couple, can flash your passports. Likely the other men could do the same, but they’re taking no risks after yesterday, despite Will’s quiet assurances that the “situation at the airport” has been “handled.”

All of that worry and stress shrinks with the receding coastline as you pull away from shore. Frankie pilots the yacht, aviators and a relaxed smile on his face. He’s wearing a worn baseball cap you haven’t seen before, at least until you lift it from his head over his laughing protests, setting it backwards on your own, to Will and Santi’s amusement.

The hours slip past in golden, salt-sprayed perfection. You pump an obliging Will for embarrassing stories about his two friends, and they get their own revenge by telling him how sweetly you snore, despite your indignant squawk of protest.

The four of you take turns at the wheel but it’s easy sailing, far enough from the rocky coast that you don’t need to worry much about hidden reefs or troublesome shoals. You all keep an eye out for any boats taking too close of an interest, but the only ones you pass seem to be fishermen and pleasure cruises. During one of Will’s stints at the wheel, you, Frankie and Santi slip away to enjoy each other’s company.

There’s not much privacy to be had on board and, mindful of Will’s presence, the three of you keep things more or less respectable: a few kisses and some mild flirtation, and more than a couple sickeningly affectionate selfies taken by the rail. In one of your favorites, you mug for the camera while planting a kiss on Frankie’s jaw, his own face lighting up while Santi nips playfully at his ear.

Sometime in the endless afternoon, Santi calls for a break and Frankie drops the anchor. The two of them head below decks for a rest. You’d exchanged glances with Santi earlier when Frankie started yawning and nodding, likely still worn out from his recent injuries. They’d invited you to join them but you’re not done sunning yourself and wave them on ahead. “I’ll join you in a bit.”

Will watches them go, smiling, and lowers himself into the folding chair next to yours. “It’s good to see them like this.”

You raise your head slightly from the rail but keep your face tipped up towards the sun. “What do you mean?”

“This happy.”

You don’t even try to hide your pleased smile as you settle back into your chair. “Yeah but you must have seen them happy before. What about when they first got together?”

“They didn’t share that with the rest of the pack, not for a few months. With you though, even an outsider like me can sense the mating bond snapping into place.”

His unfathomable words drop like stones, sending cold, ominous ripples through you. “The what?”

He shrugs, distracted while he digs through a nearby cooler for another beer. “You know, that sense of belonging. Why you seem made for them and - “

You only catch snatches of his words after that, pressure tightening around your chest in iron bands.

Mating bond

More binding than marriage

Unbreakable

Permanent

You’re sitting bolt upright, knuckles tight around the arms of your chair. You cast nervous glances around the boat which suddenly seems impossibly small and far from shore.

Will trails off at the blank look on your face as a chill skitters down your spine, dread settling low in your stomach.

“Will. What the fuck are you talking about.”

Understanding dawns too late. “You didn’t know?”

You’re not sure which is worse - the sympathetic twist of his mouth or the way he gentles his already soft tone, as though speaking to a spooked horse.

“They didn’t tell me.” The words are chips of ice in your mouth, in your blood, chilling you from the inside. “Why wouldn’t they tell me?”

You rise to your feet, hands clenched at your sides, pacing the deck. Is that why you’d felt such a powerful connection with them so quickly? Why you’d trusted them? Let them get so close so fast? Was it just something they’d done to you? Your stomach heaves at the thought. God, you’ve been so fucking naive.

Despite almost certainly realizing your question had been rhetorical, Will grabs onto it like a lifeline. “I’m sure they had their reasons.”

“Their reasons?” Anger flares as you spit the word back at him, your voice ratcheting up in volume as confusion and betrayal tear at you. “Oh, I can imagine plenty of reasons they wouldn’t tell me I “belong” to them until they’d spirited me away to god knows where.” You laugh, harsh and bitter, already grabbing for your bag.

You’ve been so fucking stupid, allowing strangers to get you alone like this, to derail your carefully laid plans. You should have known better - you do know better, and you’re damned if you’re going to let yourself be railroaded further.

“What’s going on?” Santi and Frankie rush up from below, already scanning the deck for any threat. Some traitorous part of you wants to take a step forward, to tuck yourself between them, towards the warmth and protection of their bodies.

Sensing that impulse, Frankie steps towards you, concern lighting his brown eyes as he reaches for you.

Deseito, what happened?

The words ring inside your mind, impossible but unmistakable. Your breath turns rapid, shallow. Them being wolves beneath their skin is one thing, but this, invading your mind - it’s too much.

“Get the fuck out of my head,” you hiss. He flinches, a wounded look on his face as he draws back.

You force yourself to turn and face Will. He’s gone pale and you wonder which he fears more: your reaction, or theirs.

“I want off this boat.” Every inch of you trembles with fury and rising panic. “Right now.”

Will’s gaze flicks to Santi, looking to him for approval and sending any hope of his backing you crashing down around you. Adrenaline coats your tongue, the bitter tang of fear filling your mouth.

Santi, brows drawn in confusion, shakes his head. “We can’t, not yet. Calm down, leoncita, we can talk about this.”

Unwilling or unable to stop, you shove past them, flinging yourself down the ladder and below decks before anyone can say another word, throwing yourself into the single cabin and slamming the door shut. Sinking down to the floor, you can’t stop the sob clawing its way up your throat, hating that the flimsy door at your back isn’t enough to keep the sound of your crying in.

As if confirming your worst fears, one of them knocks hard enough to rattle the door on its hinges. “Dandelion, talk to us. What happened?”

It’s Santi, sounding genuinely both confused and alarmed. Or at least, you would have thought so just minutes before, but if they’ve been keeping this secret from you, who knows what else they’ve been lying about. You can’t trust your instincts anymore, and that sudden loss sends you into a dizzying free fall.

“What happened? What happened is that you lied to me, Santiago.”

“How did I lie to you?”

Stifling an impulse to fling the door open and shout at him, you ball your fists instead, willing your voice to remain steady. “When were you going to tell me you fucked with my head?” With my heart, you almost add, feeling it tearing beneath your breast bone.

There’s a moment’s silence, a pit that all of your worst fears tumble into, before Santi asks, hesitant, “Is this about the mating bond?”

“I don’t care what you call it.”

“Look, will you just open the door so we can talk about this?”

“So you can fuck with my feelings some more? I don’t think so.”

“That’s not how it works,” he growls, impatient.

“That would be more convincing if you weren’t snarling at me like some sort of - “

“Wolf? I’ve got news for you, sweetheart, we never lied to you about that. Is that what this is really about? Having second thoughts already?”

You do fly to your feet at that, wrenching the door open before you stop to think better of it. “That is not what this is about.”

Santi grips the doorframe, his eyes blazing. “No? Then, what, you’re pissed because of the bond? Do you have any idea how rare that is for even two people, let alone three?”

“I don’t care! Not if I don’t get a choice!”

Santi’s expression softens a little. “Leoncita…”

“Don’t.” It comes out as a whispered plea. You can feel yourself bending, wanting to be reassured, comforted.

Frankie cuts in, having joined his partner while Will keeps a respectful distance above, presumably pretending not to hear the three of you. “We would have told you.”

You give a harsh, humorless laugh. “What? When I was so wrapped around your fingers I wouldn’t question it anymore?”

Frankie takes a step towards you, desperate. “You made it clear that you wanted to keep things casual. What were we supposed to do?”

“Don’t you dare put this on me. Do you have any idea how this feels?”

“Do I know how it feels to have my life upended because I found my mate when I least expected to? Yeah, I think I have some idea.”

There’s an edge to Frankie’s voice you haven’t heard before, one that Santi must hear too because he lays a steadying hand on his shoulder. Frankie shakes him off, not tearing his gaze from you.

“Do you really think this is something we’d try to force on you?”

“I don’t know!” You hate the way your voice cracks, the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. “I don’t know what’s real anymore. I don’t know you.”

They flinch like you’ve struck them. You almost relent, words of apology already on your tongue when Frankie’s low voice reverberates through your mind, into your very bones.

We can talk about this. Let us explain.

The jarring reminder of their ability to slip so easily into your mind snaps you out of that momentary weakness.

“No.” Finality tolls through your words like a bell, reverberating through the boat’s cramped, shadowy interior as you banish the last wisps of hope - yours and theirs.“I should have known this was too good to be true, that I couldn’t trust you - either of you. You lied to me, you messed with my head and I never want to see either of you again.”

You hurl the words at them like knives, unflinching even as they hit their marks. The hurt on their faces is almost enough to make you stop, to reconsider, but you turn away from those feelings, and from the pain in their eyes.

“Just leave me alone.”

One of them takes a step closer, the wooden floor creaking beneath their feet, but when you tighten your arms around yourself, refusing to so much as turn around, they sigh and retreat, leaving you to your silent, furious tears.

The cabin is pitch black when you wake up several hours later. You’d curled up miserably on the bed, having cried yourself to sleep for the first time since you were much, much younger. Fumbling for a light switch, you almost step on a plate of food that had been placed in the doorway. Your stomach rumbles but you push it away. Accepting it would feel too much like forgiveness.

You shut the door instead, trying not to wonder which of them had left it for you, and why your heart aches at the mental image of them standing helplessly in the doorway.

When you wake again, the ship has docked, and Frankie and Santi have gone.

Part 9.5

#Frankie Morales x Reader #Frankie Morales x F!reader #Santiago Garcia x Reader #Santiago Garcia x F!Reader #Frankie x Santi x Reader #fic #My fic

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