#so it is clearly not beneath them but also i am amazed that this one wasn't just poorly handled early installment weirdness | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 4 months

Text

Cheat

Marc Spector x GN!Reader • Rating: T Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist •

Summary: Marc cheats at games constantly.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: this is just self indulgent. I'm sorry.

Warnings: reader is from the UK (get ready for some friendly USA vs UK), typos, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 828

“But that’s cheating!”

“No, it isn’t.”

“It is!” You try to keep the smile out of your voice, and put on an air of shocked indignation. Marc was notorious for cheating at board games, and card games, and any games where he thought he could get away with it.

“How?” He asked calmly, crossing his arms over his chest. But there was a hint of glee in his eyes.

“You,” you gesture at him with your hand, nearly breaking into a laugh, “you can’t move like that.”

Marc doesn’t miss a beat. “Yes, you can.”

“You can’t!”

“Who says?” He cocks his head to the side as he asks, his eyebrows pinched together in mock confusion. Though the little twitch of his lip gives him away. If there was one thing he loved more than cheating at games was pretending he actually wasn’t.

“I don’t know Marc, the rules?”

“I don’t think so.”

You pull your phone out of your pocket. “I’m looking them up, right now.”

“You’re just going to go and look at ‘pretend rules to suit my argument .com.” He shakes his head, a fake look of disgust plastered all over his features, as if you’re the one that’s going to try to deceive him.

“Firstly,” you try not to laugh, so as not to weaken your position. “That’s amazing, I am looking that up afterwards to see if it exists, and secondary-”

“I mean, it does exist, otherwise how else are you gonna go on it to look up the rules and pretend I can’t move like that?”

You gawp at him for a second, grinning like crazy at his audacity. “Marc-”

“Hey,” he holds up his hands, “I’m just trying to play fair here, play by the rules-”

“When have you ever played by the rules?”

“And you’re here, questioning my very legitimate move.”

“Marc,” you giggle, “draught pieces cannot jump over empty spaces in a straight line.”

“See, firstly,” he pulls a face, mocking your expression from before, “we’re playing checkers, that might be where you’re confused, because, in checkers-”

“Marc we are playing draughts,” you giggle and hold up the battered cardboard box, which clearly says ‘draughts’.

He shakes his head. “That’s a typo.”

“That’s a typo?”

He nods, “of course, and-”

“Pretty big typo.”

“British craftsmanship was never up to standard.”

“I’m gonna-”

“Now, now,” he grins, wagging his finger at you. “Violence never solved anything.”

“Says the American.”

Marc gasps in fake hurt and puts his hand on his chest, “I’m so shocked that you would lower yourself to insulting my nationality.”

You laugh, “you just-”

“I would have thought such petty insults were beneath you,” he shakes his head in mock outrage. “I mean, I am so insulted right now.”

“You did it first!” You grin.

Marc just shakes his head and stares to the side. “I can’t even look at you right now.

“Also draughts and checkers are the same game.”

“Now, you're insulting my American heritage, our cultural game of checkers, how could you?” His tone of voice is making it impossible not to laugh.

“Marc-”

“I just can’t,” he stands, “If you’re not going to respect the game then,” he shrugs, “I don’t think we should play, let’s just end it here and say I won.”

“No,” you get up, “I’m winning!”

“Were you? Morally?” He teases.

“Yes!”

He takes a step closer to you. “And in the actual game?”

“Yes! That’s why you started cheating!”

He leans closer, “I never cheat.”

You place your hands on his cheeks and pull a face. “Liar.”

“How could you-”

“Don’t make me ask Steven to be the umpire.” You say playfully.

“Oh yes,” he narrows his eyes at you. “The other Brit, I’m sure he’ll be completely unbiased.”

You laugh, “Fine, how about Jake?”

Marc shakes his head, an over-the-top motion just for your amusement. “Can’t trust him.”

You gasp, “You can’t trust him?”

“Not in matters like this.”

“But he’s American.”

Marc shakes his head again, “he’s too blinded by your beauty to be impartial.”

You smile, the sneaky compliment catching you off guard for a moment. “Blinded by my beauty?”

“Hmm,” he nods, all fake seriousness. “It’s a real problem, luckily, I have developed a resilience to your charms.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes,” he nods again, but takes hold of your left hand and places a kiss to your inner wrist. “I am completely immune.” He punctuates the sentence by placing more kisses along your arm and sliding his other hand onto your hip, pulling you closer towards him until your chest is flush with his.

“Completely immune.” You echo and nod sarcastically.

“Completely.” He nods back and places a soft kiss on your lips that quickly has you melting into him. He stays just as close when you break apart, keeping barely a centimetre of space between you.

“You’re a terrible cheat, Spector.”

He grinned. “You love it when I don’t play by the rules.”

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @whatthefishh @mbakubabe @romanarose @pimosworld @jake-g-lockley @saturn-rings-writes @boredzillenial @lonelyisamyw-0love @melodygatesauthor @steven-grants-world @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @queerponcho

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

#moon knight events #moon knight bingo 2024 #marc spector #moon knight #moon knight mcu #marc spector x reader #x reader #marc spector x you #x you #marc spector x gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #marc spector x gn!reader #x gn!reader #my writing #fanfic #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters

279 notes · View notes

acourtofthought · 4 months

Note

Hello! Not sure if you talked about this already but, do you think Lucien could've done more to help Feyre? Sometimes I see Lucien/Elucien fans say this, but they never outline what specifically he could've done. He had to balance dealing with Feyre's issues, Tamlin's, making sure Spring was stabilized, and his own traumas too. Rhys and Feyre said he could've done more but....what could he have done that didn't set off a mentally unstable High Lord? He was getting abused himself trying to help.

I think it's normal for readers to primarily focus on the heroines story and her pov when reading a book and as a result, it makes it too easy to drown out the things that do not relate to Feyre and her suffering.

When you really break it all down to look at the big picture though, by the time ACOMAF began, Feyre had been in Lucien's life for a few months. MONTHS.

In comparison, Lucien had been Tamlin's "right hand" for centuries. Helping out the people of Spring for centuries. Had been dealing with Amarantha's curse for over 49 years.

Feyre came into Lucien's life after murdering his friend. It didn't take long before Lucien moved past that and he was willing to risk his own life for her on a few occasions. First when he glamored her from Rhys, second when he refused to give up Feyre's name, and third when he helped her in her first trial which resulted in him being whipped, prevented from healing, then being used as Amarantha's toy to torment in Feyre's second trial.

But when they returned to Spring, it wasn't just about Lucien sacrificing himself for Feyre anymore, he had more to think about than just himself and just Feyre.

"If we're going to stand a chance of rebuilding. What he says goes. I am the first one the others look to - I set the example. Don't ask me to risk the stability of this court by pushing back. Not right now"

"No. Amarantha had ... camps for them. The nobles and favored faeries were allowed to dwell UTM. But if the people of a court weren't working to bring in goods and food, they were locked in camps in a network of tunnels beneath the Mountain. Thousands of them, crammed into chambers and tunnels with no light, no air. For fifty years.- " "Some of them went mad, started preying on the others when Amarantha forgot to order her guards to feed them. Soe formed bands that prowled the camps and did - " "They did horrible things. Right now, they're trying to remember what it is to be normal - how to live"

Truly, were Feyre's needs more important than the needs of an entire court? The needs of a people who experienced 50 years of torture compared to her 3 months?

What she did for them was amazing but it doesn't take away their trauma either.

And while Lucien was not only balancing what the entire Spring Court needed and also trying to help Feyre with what she needed, he faced push back from a HIGH LORD everytime he did so:

"She meant no harm, Tam."

"I know she meant no harm," he snapped.

Lucien held his gaze. "Worse things have happened, worse things can happen. Just relax."

Tamlin's emerald eyes were feral as he snarled at Lucien, "Did I ask for your opinion?"

To this, Feyre thinks "those words, the look he gave Lucien and the way Lucien lowered his head - my temper was a burning river in my veins. Look up, I silently beseeched him. Push back. He's wrong, and we're right. Do not back down."

But Feyre says nothing. She just sits there, not offering support to Lucien and expecting him to do something. When it's obvious he's clearly on the line of risking Tamlin's abuse.

Feyre is beseeching Lucien to further open himself up to possible abuse.

Then again later: Lucien had gone on, his tone pleading, Tamlin. Tam. Just let her train, let her master this - if the other High Lords do come for her, let her stand a chance...

I heard the first word out of his mouth, barely more than a growl. No. We give them no reason to suspect she might have any abilities, which training will surely do. Don't give me that look Lucien. Then a vicious snarl, and a shudder of magic rocked the house. Tamlin's voice had been low, deadly. "Do not push me on this."

Feyre then thinks, I didn't want to know what was happening in that room, what he'd done to Lucien, what Lucien had even looked like to cause that pulse of power.

So again, Feyre ignores Luciens' abuse from Tamlin. Feyre with the power of all 7 High Lords and Lucien having no clue he's the Heir to Day and no clue that he might become a High Lord himself as he's not come into his powers, yet their argument is why didn't Lucien do more for Feyre?

Since when is a victim of domestic violence responsible for standing up to their abuser because someone else is also being abused (unless you have a parent / child siutation)?

And yes, Lucien did want to take Feyre back to Spring after Rhys took her but here's where it gets tricky.

A victim hears how their abuser is sorry, they've learned their lesson, they'll be better, and sometimes the victim falls for it.

So Lucien has this centuries old friend who was his friend for many years and who had once saved his life and he only witnessed his sprial after everything that happened with Amarantha. Why wouldn't Lucien believe that Tamlin was capable of change?

Compared to Rhys who perpetuated lies for centuries that he was evil and did play mind games and did torture and Feyre fed into that when Lucien found her because she wanted Velaris to remain protected.

So out of those two scenarios, a friend who seems genuinely remorseful for his recent behaviors versus a High Lord who continues letting everything think he's evil and has the power to brainwash others, and Lucien was wrong for thinking she would be safer in Spring?

It's not like he could steal her away to another Court, what other court would harbor them if they believed it was a slight against another High Lord? Aren't we specifically told that is a cause for war?

Some readers love to simplify things so they can place blame on a character they don't like but they're forgetting SJM writes complexity in her characters relationships, how morally gray even her favorites can be which leaves other characters between a rock and a hard place.

So with that all said, I don't think Lucien could have done more for Feyre because he was being hit from every side. "What is best for the people of Spring? They too have suffered" "Feyre is being brainwashed by Rhys." "Every time I try to stand up for what I believe I end up abused" "I don't like how he's acting but Tamlin was my friend long before this and I have faith he can go back to who he once was."

#lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra

56 notes · View notes

my-naughty-writings-and-musings · 1 year

Note

Thank you for writing my Tarantulas request!!! It was amazing and I loved how it turned out. If I can do another request I'd love to see more Earthspark Megatron x human Reader, the last one you did of them in the supply closet was so good! I'd love to see more of their relationship and how they avoid getting caught when they get intimate in public/semi-pubic areas. Thank you! Cant wait to see more of your writings!

No problem, I had an absolute blast writing it!! The spider needs some serious love!

Also I can do that! Fair warning I went a WEE bit overboard but I think you'll enjoy Medic!Reader and Megs getting it on in the medical bay at GHOST! I cannot express how much I love it when bots and their humans sneak off for some fun, especially when the size of the bot in question forces the two to get creative.

For those who don't know: if you like my writing style, you can always commission me, and please reblog to help spread my work! Thank you!

From behind the cover of your welding mask, you allowed your face to pinch tightly in concentration, eyes focused entirely on your work as you carefully closed up what had once been a sizable metal gash. Thankful that the wound had been a clean one you'd been able to treat independently, you moved as quickly as you could without sacrificing control, wanting to minimize the lingering discomfort for your patient. Megatron had the highest pain tolerance you'd ever encountered, but even after applying a localized anesthetic you could feel his uncomfortable tension beneath you, just as you didn't fail to notice the small sigh that passed his lips when you finished and disengaged the flame.

Careful not to lose your balance, you crawled back along the big bots sizable torso before removing the mask for a clear look as well as a breath of fresh air. The injury looked a great deal better than when he'd first limped into the medical bay about twenty minutes prior, and you were confident it would improve further after your patch had some time to settle, but the mech had made you work for that sense of assurance. You could still clearly recall how your heart had absolutely flipped at the sight of him cradling his bleeding middle, even if he'd still had the capacity to crack a joke before laying back on the medical slab while you gathered your tools in a rush…

"That should do it." you said with a sigh, a little spent from the ordeal but pleased with the outcome. Megatron, with his upper half supported by the inclined berth, looked down the length of his frame to meet your gaze.

"Excellent work as always, Doctor." he said in a mix of praise and a tease, emphasizing your title to mock the formality the two of you had to fake when others were present. Granted, you were currently alone and the doors had been locked for privacy, but that had never stopped him before. A small shift of his middle and a noticeable lack of pain did, however, bring more genuine appreciation to his voice. "That does feel a great deal better, thank you, my spark."

You smiled at the term of endearment before giving his wound a final once over, ensuring it was as good as it could get before his self-repair protocols took care of the rest. "I'll need you to stay here for about another hour while it sets, just to be safe." you instructed when satisfied, confident that this would be nothing more than a faded scar in a few weeks time, so long as it was given the chance to heal. Areas of considerable "flexibility" were tricky on bots, compelling you to give another reminder as you packed your tools and prepared to climb down. "The last thing I want is for it to tear, and that'll be a lot less likely if you relax for now."

Megatron scoffed at the suggestion, a reaction that neither surprised or phased you. "An entire hour? Am I really so delicate?"

"You will be if you don't listen to me." you replied with a roll of your eyes. It was predictable that Megatron would object to you "fussing" over him, even if all you required was for him to take it easy. He complained about such things every time they were prescribed, but with you the big bot tended to comply… more often than not. You were hopeful this would be one of your successes as you slid off his side and walked to the lift that ferried you up and down the bot sized berths. Your departure quickly got his full attention.

"Where are you going?"

"I have to file the supplies I used for the repair." you explained with clear distaste for the fact, leaning back on the lift railing so you could face him as you shrugged your shoulders. The displeasure and sarcasm were overt even without the added roll of your eyes. "GHOST protocol."

The towering warrior put on what you dared to call a pout. "Am I simply supposed to sit here in the meantime?"

"We've got data pads and there's a bot sized tablet on the charger. I could set you up with whichever you prefer, but I do need to submit that report sooner rather than later." you said as you prepared to hit the button to descend, hesitating because you really would have preferred doing anything over the drudgery of typing reports. Getting some time to chill with your partner would have been a welcome change of pace, but GHOST didn't allow much leeway when it came to its tyrannical bureaucracy.

"Fine." Megatron huffed dramatically, giving you reason to pause as you fixed him with a raised brow. Though he wasn't in any position to actually contest, and he thankfully remained quite still on the berth as you'd ordered, the big bot was almost making a show of how unhappy he was. As he seemed to be marginally more theatrical than usual, you found yourself willing to take the time to try and figure out what he was playing at as he continued to whine. "If you are truly comfortable leaving me to languish in utter boredom…"

"As your doctor, I'm confident you'll survive." you replied, playfulness tinged by a hint of curiosity. Tilting your head and narrowing his eyes, you made it clear you knew there was some kind of game being played, and wanted to be let in on it. "What are you getting at, Megs?"

His pout shifted to include a hint of a smile, confirming for you that he was indeed playing at something.

"If only there was someone to keep me company while I recovered…" he mused with obviously mock melancholy, reaching out to cup your tiny body and gently pulling you towards him and away from the lift. "Perhaps those reports could wait a little longer, yes?"

You rolled your eyes, now confident this was all just a plot to make you stick around for his sake and nothing more. For all of his gruffness with others, the big bot hung on you like a needy cat, making it quite unsurprising he'd be gunning for some personal time even after getting stitched up. Ordinarily you were happy to indulge his desire for your presence, but keeping your job unfortunately took precedence over keeping him company. "If I don't get it in before the next half hour, the system will send out an alert when it does its automatic supply check. Is entertaining you for twice that amount of time more important than stopping a false alarm?"

Something small shifted in his entire demeanor, but being over thirty feet tall made the change abundantly clear to you even if you hadn't a clue what it meant. Thankfully, he didn't keep you waiting, his faint smile shifting into a full smirk as he spoke.

"I can get all the entertainment I need in… five minutes. Ten, if I'm thorough." he purred, scarlet optics intensifying their gaze as he went from merely watching to drinking you in, servo at your back pulling you closer. A reflexive flush rose up in your cheeks. You knew that look well, it had preceded countless rushed dives into closets or warehouses and on one especially spontaneous occasion the cargo hold of an unmanned carrier plane… but you never would have expected to see it now. Suddenly it was all too clear what he had been playing at.

The disbelief and total exasperation was as apparent in your voice as it was the hand you threw up into the air. "Seriously? You're horny now?"

"Can you really blame me?" he replied with a laugh, amused by your reaction but hardly disheartened. He lowered his voice and allowed it to rumble through your tiny body, and in spite of everything it was just as effective on you as it always was. Having his careful digits at your back only helped his case. "I did have a very attractive human practically seated on my lap."

"A human with a welder!" you replied with a wild gesture to your pack, where the tools capable of slicing a bot were arranged with care. Considering he still had the fresh wound on his stomach, you couldn't imagine how he had it in him to be frisky, but judging by the intensifying lust in his optics the pain was doing little to dissuade him.

"What would you say if I told you that made it all the more appealing?" he said after a moment of silence.

He was just fucking with you now. He had to be. There was no way he seriously wanted to bang after having his organs sewn back in, you refused to believe it, it was too much even for him.

"You… you're utterly ridiculous." you said in a bit of a daze, tempted to pinch yourself to test if this was all some crazy dream. You halfway wondered if he was recording this for some kind of inevitable gotcha that would come at any moment, and felt so silly you couldn't keep the laughter from tinging your voice as you continued."I'm saying you're utterly ridiculous."

Megatron somewhat carefully clapped a spare hand to his chassis as if he'd just been dealt a devastating blow. "Oh no, you wound me further…" he teased, making you wonder if you were dating a warrior or the planet's biggest dork. Trying not to give him the satisfaction of a smile, you had to admit to yourself that it was much harder than it should have been to remember why you'd needed to leave in the first place. Fixing you with a smirk, he once more tugged you closer, and this time your body failed to resist in the slightest. "I fear I may need medical attention all over again."

"I'm going to repeat myself; you're utterly ridiculous." you said simply, medical training swooping in where your professionalism failed. "Plus, if you push it and that patch breaks, I'll have to redo all my welding, and I don't think either one of us wants that."

"No…" he conceded in a not at all serious tone. Allowing the silence to hang until you raised a brow in anticipation, the mech went from smirking to grinning with devilish delight, his sharp canid dentae peeking out as he purred low enough for you to feel the rumble of his voice through your tiny organic body.

"But that merely means I need to be careful, or more accurately, creative."

The servo at your back scooped up your tiny frame without effort, compelling you to grab on for stability as he hefted you clear off the berth, raising you to his helm so quickly your ears popped from the change in altitude.

"Whoa!" you cried out in surprise, clinging to him as you suddenly found yourself a good twenty or more feet from the nearest surface below. You had ample practice being handled by bots, but this one had caught you off guard, as Megatron was always the type to practice caution when maneuvering you in his massive servos. Less than gracefully wiggling yourself into a more dignified position, you met his gaze with a pout, preparing to give him a piece of your mind before demanding to be put back down. No matter how little you wanted to complete your task, it had to be done, and no amount of his antics could change your mind…

Except when your optics met his up close, you found that to be patently untrue. The desire in their depths was like fire, burning so bright it seemed to see straight through your token resistance and to the molten need burning just below your skin.

"Come now, love…" he purred, lifting you to his helm and setting you down to straddle his chin. The touch between your parted legs was like an electric prod, melting away all the stress of your position and speaking to the frustration even you hadn't been able to see. Biting your lip to keep yourself quiet, you recalled the discipline that would follow late reports but found the threat hadn't the slightest hold over you anymore. All that seemed real was the warmth of his frame against your tense body, and the hum of his voice as he continued, making quite a point to let you feel every syllable. "Let me show my doctor some much deserved appreciation. The reports can wait."

Just able to keep from moaning, you sighed and waged one final war in your head between lust and responsibility, finding it obvious who the victor would be but giving it a go regardless. When your body made the decision you knew it would, you picked your words carefully to avoid giving him too much satisfaction.

"I'm giving you five minutes." you said in a blatant lie, setting the stage so you could claim to have simply lost track of time once you were finished. The answer pleased him greatly, and he pulled you a little ways up his helm, resting your crotch just above his lips so you could feel each and every word humming up through the fabric and into your waiting pussy.

"Not a problem. I work swiftly…" he purred. The vibrations were enough to pull a tiny gasp past your parted lips as he hummed in delight, fully aware of what the stimulation did to you from past experience. Not wanting to give him absolute satisfaction, you kept yourself quiet save for your own smirk and a sarcastic retort.

"Is that why I have to patch you up so often?"

The open taunt drove him wild. You'd always been one of the few humans, the few beings, to not only speak to him openly but fearlessly, and he expressed his appreciation with a request so rushed it came out as a pleading demand. "Take off your pants."

"Give me a second, kind of hard to undress without a proper spot to sit…" you replied as you slipped out of your protective lab coat to reveal your scrubs. Though kicking off your shoes was easy, straddling his chin left you without much of a foothold or a way to wiggle free of your pants, forcing you to awkwardly grab them and your underwear as you tried to shimmy out of both. Megatron was hypnotized by the sight for a moment, his optics locked on your increasing exposure before he decided it wasn't happening swiftly enough. You let out a single sound when you were unceremoniously lifted up to hover over his lips. "Oop!"

Dexterous digits took hold of the fabric you'd already pulled down and gave a swift, decisive tug to yank them down your legs, leaving you bare from the waist down. Yipping in surprise, you regained your wits quickly enough to balance yourself when he set you back down, your exposed pussy coming just inches shy of his lips before you found footing on your hands and knees.

"Is this proper enough?" he asked, fully aware of how his heated breath teased you.

"Yes!" you gasped, unable and unwilling to keep yourself from reacting to his encouragement. The fact he was right there had to be as torturous for him as it was for you, and looking into his optics confirmed as much, their fiery depths drinking in your nakedness in the same way a starving bot would drink in a cup of cool energon. Not wanting to be entirely at his mercy, you hovered above his lips, palms splayed against his cheeks as you took a deep breath and met his gaze without flinching. "So get to work, you're on a tight schedule."

His glossa was out the instant you finished the last syllable, allowing a cry to slip out of your open mouth as he swirled the tip over your lips to ease them open, delighting your folds with the hot, wet, hungry touch. Sharp dentae were bared beneath you as he spread you just the way you liked. Moaning and setting your hips heavily on his face, you were thankful for the locked door as you allowed yourself to get loud, letting him know just how good he was with your voice. The wetness that made you all the easier to open up was another clue he read and tasted quite eagerly.

You moaned his name as he used his massive size to his full advantage, pumping the length of his glossa up and down your soft folds to please you from clit to entrance, compelling you to ride him with your full weight to get more of the stimulation. More than strong enough to support you, he happily welcomed your efforts, looking more lost in his own ecstasy by the second. An approving purr rumbled all the way up your legs to make your world spin around you.

He shifted, and you caught his servo moving downwards in the corner of your eye. Following the movement, you watched in a fog of ecstasy as he opened his modesty plating to allow his spike to swing forth, smirking at how quickly it rose to its full size and throbbed with need. You'd clearly gotten him just as riled up as he'd gotten you…

A hot glossa sliding inside of you knocked the smugness off your face and replaced it with a helpless open mouthed cry of euphoria, your hips thrusting against him to help his reach go as deep as he pumped in and out of you at the perfect pace. Using his free servo to cup your back and press you down against him, his other pumped his spike rapidly enough to make you briefly concerned before a heavenly prodding of your sweet spot evaporated everything beyond obtaining release.

Weeks of being underappreciated and overworked had left you with plenty of tension for him to clear away, and you could almost feel it melting out of you as your orgasm began to build, hot ecstasy filling your body and compelling you to grab at his digits to keep yourself upright. Megatron tightened his grip around you in response, letting out a moan of his own at your lack of inhibitions. Sharing the pleasure only made it that much better for the both of you.

An aggressive swirling and sucking of your clit gave you everything you needed for an explosive orgasm, one you announced by throwing back your head with an admittedly theatrical cry. The response from the mech beneath you was as immediate as it was satisfying.

Watching you writhe in the euphoria he'd caused proved too much for the warrior, and he overloaded seconds after you, deep moans of satisfaction rumbling through you in perfect time to the throbs of your pussy. Between the vibrations and his glossa you saw stars and had to let him fully support your weight, shaking hands clinging to his digits as the both of you rode out your shared pleasure loudly enough to shake the berth below.

Thankfully Megatron had just enough sense and strength to adjust you when he finished painting his own chassis with his release, inching you back to his chin so he could get the greedy gulps of air necessary to cool his internals. Dizzy but satisfied, you had just enough clarity to giggle at the situation, pushing back some of the hair that had stuck to your sweat soaked forehead as you looked down to see if he was faring any better. Judging by his expression of nearly unconscious bliss, you considered the two of you to be doing equally well.

"Megs?" you pressed, leaning forward to pat his cheek. "You okay?"

"More than okay." he responded with a tiny chuckle, cracking open his optics to grin at your half naked form. Using his digits to haul yourself up on shaking legs, you settled for sitting back on your heels when they proved too weak to hold you upright, a very common occurrence after such sessions. Helping you sit more comfortably, he smiled with more softness than satisfaction. "I believe we both needed that."

"I still need to file my report, but I won't pretend I don't feel a lot better about it." you acknowledged with a stretch, far more limber than you'd been just a few minutes prior. Though you still needed to get your work done, this had proven an excellent use of your time, and you were about to say as much when a glance about turned up empty of a few critical items.

"Where are my pants?"

His exhaustion halved in an instant, devious sparkle returning to his optics as he used the most obviously mock voice of concern you'd ever heard. "I haven't the slightest idea." he purred with delight, making you pout at what an impossible pain in the ass he chose to be. He'd give them up eventually, you knew that from experience, but in the meantime you were going to have to deal with even more of him being impossible. You made your mild annoyance known with a raised brow and two hands on your hips, a reaction that only delighted him further. "I suppose you'll have to remain here with me after all."

"I still have my welder, you know." you said as you leaned forward on his face, trying not to crack a smile at his antics. You failed when he grinned and pulled you in, the adoration in his optics equal only to the amusement.

"That still makes it all the more appealing."

Rolling your eyes, you sighed, knowing but no longer caring that the reports would indeed be late. It wasn't like GHOST could screw you half as hard as he could.

#valveplug #transformers #lemon #maccadam #robot x human relations #tf #self insert #megatron #megatron x reader #human s/o #human reader #x reader #tf earthspark #transformers earthspark #earthspark #tfe #tfes #nsfw////#medic reader

307 notes · View notes

ashleyfanfic · 2 months

Note

Love your blog! Huge Jonerys shipper and just finished Seaosn 2 of Bridgerton and LOVE Polin! Kantony was amazing too! I am so excited for Season 3! Did you see the trailer! Would love yo know your thoughts! Hope you have a great day!

OH! SO EXCITED TO TALK ABOUT THIS! Thanks for asking.

First, Jonerys will always be my OTP. Yeah, the show ended like a burning pile of dog turds, but in fan fiction they're living happily ever after as they should have. The one good thing is that Kit's show is not going to be made which means they will not be able to profit off Daenerys Death anymore than the already do. Kit, find you another franchise where you can swing a sword. I'll watch it. I sat through Pompeii I can do anything.

Second, I love KANTHONY!!! I mean, the PINING! THE UST! LOVE IT! All the glances and touches and the "You are the bane of my existence and the object of my every desire" yes, sir! PLEASE. Love them. So glad we get to see them happy and in love this season. Just a boon, for sure.

Third, POLIN! Ok, hang on, let me get this out of the way first because it is a huge concern to me. I do not, under any circumstances, want to see Eloise join in with Cressida to make fun of Penelope. I get it, she's hurt, but please don't let her do that because she knows all of the sensitive points about Penelope, not even counting Lady Whistledown. She knows the things she's sensitive about and stands to truly hurt her. I had my former best friend do that to me and I wouldn't wish it on anyone. Though, Nicola and Luke were both adamant about their love for Eloise. So, here's hoping.

POLIN - Alright, I'm going to say what I'm sure many other people are thinking -- Colin needs to grovel in apology for what he said. It's already difficult enough for Pen, with her introverted nature, to meet and talk to people. That has been clearly established. But to then have an influential man in the ton declare that he would never dream of courting her? I mean, talk about ruining a girl's chances all around.

There are little things throughout the trailer that fascinate me. One being that I think Penelope isn't going to arrive to one of the balls with her family but fake an illness and stay home. Perhaps after seeing Eloise with Cressida at a garden party earlier that day. Something sparks within her and causes her to no longer lie there, but throw open her wardrobe and we see her getting dressed. We do see Pen see them walk away together. So, I think she comes in late, dressed in a different gown, with a different look. Perhaps she asked Madam Delacroix to make it for her outside of her mother's knowledge. Because we see her standing at the top of a staircase in a red cape and then dramatically allowing it to fall to the ground. Everyone turns and looks. (My favorite thing, is if you look at the crowd, her brother-in-law, Mr. Finch is smiling at her - such a sweet, cheese loving boy!). But Cressida and Eloise look shook. Also, in this same scene we do see Francesca and Pen later talking. This is important to me as it is said in the books, Colin is very close with Franny, especially once he starts traveling and she moves to Scotland. Lady Danbury is obviously speaking with the Queen about the possible matches that could be made. So far, all the writings we've seen about this season show that Mister Dankworth is interested in marriage, but instead of being along the lines of Nigel Berbrook, he's more along the lines of Prince Friedrich. You might root for him if Colin wasn't already in the picture. I have a feeling that while his interest will spark jealousy in Colin, it will also spark confidence in Penelope. Which, judging by some of these awkward convos we see her having with some of the other men of the ton, she really needs. But the sight of them dancing beneath the moonlight in the ballroom, and their heads close together over a book, and Colin having to sit back and watch as a bystander, is too sweet for me to take. Colin is the sort you have to hit over the head and drag him to it. Someone else finding her desirable could spark that wait, what have I missed. We love our leading man, but baby are you dense. The scene where he's sitting back and the flame slowly lights, it's like Colin's love for Penelope. It doesn't happen all at once, but as it grows and glows it gets brighter. Their trope is she falls first, but he falls harder. And in the books, that 100% true. He's my wife this, my wife that. Once he realizes that he's in love with her, there is nothing else that matters to him BUT her.

#bridgerton s3 #polin #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #bridgerton

8 notes · View notes

olivyh · 1 year

Note

Oh my god I literally love your writing

I was wondering if I could get some tooth rotting fluff with jamil? (like domestic stuff, cuddles, and kisses)

I thank you in advance

A/N: TYSM!! And omg I am an absolute sucker for tooth rotting fluff <<333 Happy new year everyone!!! Also for the sake of fic purposes he either doesn't have roommates or they're not there <3 I also switch POV's a lot (from either reader's or the characters) and I wanna know which one you guys prefer! I like writing both, but I'm not sure how it comes across to readers ;;;

Normally the two of you would spend your evenings unwinding from the stresses of daily life at NRC- you laying on his bed, silk sheets soft against your just-washed skin, and reading through homework or copying missed notes, with Jamil sitting beside you, unbraiding his hair and coating the thin strands with oils, brushing it out gently s he taps his feet to the music. More often than not you would both have dinner pre-made at the beginning of the week to easily reheat and enjoy beside one another, chatting softly into the late hours of the night while the rest of Scarabia was asleep. There's a chill in the air- a deep contrast to the blistering heat of the sun during the day. Through his window, you could almost make out the different constellations as each and every star shines brightly above the wide stretch of desert that surrounded the dorm. Tonight seemed as though it was no different- soft music coming from Jamil's phone face-down on his bedside table and the comforting sound of the brush as it pulls through Jamil's long hair, some of it splaying across your face as he moves it teasingly, making you huff and send a pout in his direction.

You close your book suddenly and huff, burying your face in your hands as you groan loudly.

"Something wrong, Love?" He hums, placing the brush down and gently pushing his hair over his shoulder, placing his hand beside your waist and leaning on it, causing the bed to dip. You pout up at him and sigh, pushing the book further from you with your foot until it's practically teetering off the side of the mattress.

"Spells are stupid!" He snickers at your frustration, leaning further until he's practically centimeters away from your face. You feel warmth spread throughout your chest but choose to ignore it, preferring your annoyance over the man in front of you. "I mean- I can't even use magic! Why do I need to study this?"

"Maybe so you could help me?" He teases, offering a sideways smirk as you scoff.

"Like you need any help with spells! You know them all already!" He shrugs and leans back, much to your disappointment. It must be evident on your face as he chuckles and stands, raising an eyebrow.

"Expecting something else?"

"A kiss from my lovely boyfriend would be nice," His eyes widen for a second, clearly taken back by your boldness before he stands, offering his hand while his other picks up his phone and scrolls.

"How about something better?"

"Better?"

A soft song begins to play from the speakers, the lyrics gentle as the voices of the singers ring out amongst the piano and violin. You gently take his outstretched hand, clasping your own in it and standing, the carpet cold beneath your feet. By now, you practically have every dip and callous on his hand memorized from the countless times you've held them, every moment spent together with you gently running your fingers over his own. Yet, the warmth of it never ceases to amaze you, as well as the safety offered.

You had gone into the relationship knowing that, while Jamil had a way with words when he was feeling particularly stressed or if he felt he had to affirm your doubts, he was not a particularly verbally affectionate man. He loved you, you knew- how couldn't you when he offered you home-cooked meals daily and listened to your woes? When he looked at you with that sparkle in his eye, the way his expressions would soften ever-so-slightly when they shifted in your direction.

Where he did not express his love verbally, he expressed it physically. And with that, he used his hands, like much else in his life. A hand on the small of your back when you were visibly nervous, a hand ruffling your hair when you did something jokingly, a comforting hand on your shoulder when the burdens of a strange world became too much for you to bear yourself.

Your favorite had to be when his hands held yours.

When he held your hand firmly, yet not too tightly, you felt as though he was telling you so much more than he could with his words alone. The firmness of his grip told you that he was there, that he would always be there no matter what happened. That you would be safe with him and that you could lean on him should you need it, he would be there to catch you when you fall and to lift you back up when you couldn't do it on your own.

But... he held enough softness within it to tell you that he was scared of this change, scared of being vulnerable in your relationship. He was new to this sort of intimacy, it was unexplored territory for him. It was as though he was telling you that his time with you was fleeting should you choose that path, that he could be called away at any time, or you could vanish from this world without a trace.

At the same time you couldn't help but feel that it was how he viewed you as well, a magicless human in a strange world with a soon-to-be-sorcerer, one who had tried to hurt you and your friends before. He saw you as a delicate piece of fine china, and he, a beast who could shatter it easily. You knew he would never hurt you, but his delicate touch during these sorts of moments reminded you that he was petrified of you getting hurt at his expense (or even worse, at his own hands).

You'd been in a world of your own for so long that you didn't even notice when his hands had released themselves from your own and had explored to different places. One hand rested on the small of your back, holding you closer, and another was placed on the nape of your neck, his thumb rubbing comforting circles in the skin that lay there. He hums softly, mumbling the words in tune with the singers in a voice that was as smooth as silk and as sweet as honey as it left his lips.

"Distracted?" He asked, slowly swaying to the music. You nod slowly, opting to rest one hand dangling over his shoulder, running through his loose hair while the other made its home on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat through his thin t-shirt.

"Just thinking about you," He takes a sharp, soft breath before letting it all out in a shaky exhale, the corners of his lips quirking up in a smile as he presses his forehead against your own- you could feel the heat as it blooms in his chest and creeps up his face.

"Welcome to the club," His eyes widen as he sputters quietly for a moment. "I mean, not about me, about you-"

You laugh quietly, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, tasting the mint of his chapstick against your own and feeling the tingle that it leaves as you pull away, wrapping a strand of his hair around your finger. The action makes the hand on the small of your back much firmer as he pulls until you're nearly chest to chest. The song seems to get louder, the voices rising until it seems they're ready to hit a peak. You gasp as he suddenly pulls away and attempts to twirl you, ending in you stumbling and laughing, falling backward and pulling him with you until you land on the bed, the mattress creaking from the sudden addition of weight as well as the force of the fall.

Your laughter turns into soft chuckles in between breaths as you roll over, facing him. He does the same and grins as you place your hand on his cheek. Jamil raises his own and holds it against yours, humming softly as he leans into your palm. You can feel the warmth of his face against your hand- constant, comforting as you press a soft kiss to his lips once more. He leans into the kiss this time, now expecting it and prepared for the burst of affection. He raises his hands until they press at the base of your skull, pushing your face closer towards his.

It feels as though Jamil is telling you a million different things at once- some questions, some expressions of love, some doubts, and some insecurities. He seems almost desperate as he parts for air once, gasping as though every spurt of air would be his last, then goes back in for seconds, pulling you flush against him.

Wordlessly, he tells you that there's nothing more to worry about, that he will always protect you and keep you safe, that you're precious to him- worth more than all the jewels in the world. In the sanctity of his kiss you could make out the questions of when and why; wondering why him (you could give him a list- it would take all day and then some to read through) and when you two would do this again and again and again.

In the soft flutter of his eyelashes as they dance across your cheeks he expresses his worries- for both his life and yours. A mixture of "you deserve better"s and "you'll get hurt because of me"s tingle your skin as his other hand lands on your hip.

In his breaths lie his hopes for the future- days spent dancing in the kitchen and cooking with one another in a house all your own and traveling the world until the find the one place that calls to you both the most. Dancing in the rain and exploring foreign streets and markets, dancing through flower fields and watching the sunset atop mountains, stargazing in low valleys and holding you close atop a rooftop balcony as the city streets below bustle with life in the early hours in the morning. He dreamed of coffee kisses and warm blankets and long flights with you at his side. A ring on your finger, perhaps, and a matching one on his own.

With your gentle touches on his face you hush his worries and his racing mind as you part, your gaze on his own melting away any and all coherent thought that was swimming around in his mind, spiraling endlessly.

He presses his forehead against yours once more as you stifle a yawn, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and burying your face in the crook of his neck. He raises a hand to rub against your back soothingly, tracing patterns and pictures that you try to make out in your head until you feel your consciousness slip away.

"Sleep well, Love."

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst jamil x reader #jamil x reader #jamil viper x reader #twisted wonderland fanfic #twisted wonderland fanfiction #twst jamil viper x reader #twisted wonderland jamil

135 notes · View notes

m3gahet · 6 months

Note

25 for snickles

You guys know about the polar plunge? Also my Google history now has "can you eat pussy underwater" so that's fun

25- Write your otp bathing or swimming together + Snickles

“Yer fucking with us.” Pickles gaze is fixed on the icey waters beneath the dock's edge. He can't help but shiver, dressed in only his swimming trunks and a robe.

“Ams not!” Skwisgaar exclaims, clearly insulted. His full lips pulled into a pout and arms crossed over his chest. “I told yous. Once you ams in its amazings.” Pickles caught the mischievous glint in those blue eyes before he could look back at the water.

“Don't ya fucking dare.”

“I'm nots doing anythings!”

“Would you two shut up?!” Nathan's voice manages to echo with actually having yelled. It is effective. Skwisgaar huffs but doesn't speak, Pickles squats down as if it'll make the water any less intimidating. Nathan's footsteps cause the wood to creak as he finally approaches the edge. “Let's get this over with.”

He's just about to rise when he feels a firm hand on his back. He manages to lock eyes with Nathan before being shoved off the dock. He doesn't even have time to shout before he's submerged. Every part of him is wide awake now, coffee doesn't have shit on this.

He resurfaces just as Nathan seems to leap off the dock with a splash. Pickles splashes him as soon as he emerges from the water, having the nerve to look unphased.

“Fuckin douchebag!” he curses as Nathan just shrugs him off.

“You were taking too long.” He says blankly. Pickles shoves more water his way before looking back at the dock where Skwisgaar remains, squatting on the edge with a hand covering his mouth as he laughs at the both of them.

“Alright get in here.” Pickles orders, he admits he seems to have adjusted. It's still cold- like way too fucking cold- but it's not awful he supposes.

“I thinks I'm goods on second thought.”

He fucking knew it.

His insult goes unheard however as Nathan simply grabs Skwisgaar by the ankle and yanks the blond off the dock and drags him under with him. Skwisgaar bursts from the water and practically leaps back onto the dock with a curse. Pickles can't remember the last time he saw the blond run anywhere but God damn is he fast in making his way back to their rented cabin.

“Told ya he was fuckin with us.” He states smugly but Nathan is really good at taking the fun out being right. “Get me outta here.” He pulls himself onto the dock and quickly discards the soaking robe. The air doesn't feel cold anymore. Nathan's up in a matter of seconds, despite being the only one with a dry robe he decides to go without, instead offering it to the redhead. “Was Skwis always that fast?”

“When he wants to be.” Nathan replies. “I'd hope so with those fucking legs.”

“They're good legs.”

The two of them share a comfortable moment before heading back to the cabin. Pickles can make out Skwisgaar's sopping robe draped over the deck railing and spots the blond relaxing in the hot tub.

“How ya feelin? Amazin and all that shit, right?” He taunts as he approaches the tub. Skwisgaar's glare is normally as cold as the lake was but his bright red cheeks undermines the intimidating. “Don't be a brat.” He swings his legs over and sinks into the warm water of the hot tub. He didn't know if he bought into the whole god thing (at least the Christian one) but he had to admit this felt heavenly.

“You not joinings?” Skwisgaar asks as the sliding door squeaks open.

“Coffee first.” Nathan grunts.

“That didn't wake yer ass up?! I’m fuckin wired!” He exclaims. “Skwisgaar sprinted, dude! He was like a damn cat.” Nathan doesn't respond, just heads inside, leaving the two of them alone. “Yer a dick, by the way.”

“Ja ja I knows.” Skwisgaar rolls his eyes but gives him a smirk. “Want mes to make its up to you?” Pickles raises a brow as the blond moves closer till he's in front of him. “Wanna see how longs I can holds my breath?”

“Oh fuck ya, dood.”

#my shit #sknickles #snickles #we gotta agree on a name #again this shit aint edited #im having fun though #skwisgaar skwigelf #pickles the drummer #nathan explosion

13 notes · View notes

yautjalover · 2 years

Text

This isn’t getting the love it deserves, so I’m putting this Scar/Lex fic here for everyone to see. Please reblog if you like it! I’ll post the next part when I’m not busy with work.

Apologies for the formatting. Pasting writing on here is so hard to get the formatting to be consistent. I just don’t get it. I tried to fix it. :/

SFW. No content warnings necessary.

Word count: 4,142

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bouvetøya (Pt. 1)

1/2

"Again."

Lex climbed on her feet, ignoring the sweat that poured down her face. The mat beneath their feet had somehow absorbed the secretions each time she had hit the mat. Down and down she went, again and again.

Her body was sore. There was no part of her that had been spared. Bruises peppered her skin in varying shades. The muscles in her arms were sore from taking the brunt of blocking his attacks.

He telegraphed them so carefully, but she still missed them when he would change tactics without warning. His moves were fast even though he had slowed down his attacks considerably.

"Time out!" She groaned when he delivered a well placed swipe at her legs.

Lying on the mat, she closed her eyes and tried to take in deep lungfuls of air. It didn't seem like she could get enough.

Scar was an amazing teacher but he didn't know when to take a break. He was like a living machine. He could go on for hours and hours. The...Yautja...as she had learned he was...had ten times the energy she would ever have.

He appeared above her with his arms folded across his wide chest. His muscles bulged with the simple action and she had to focus on his face, that familiar coil forming in her lower belly.

It was new.

This reaction to him.

Instead of picturing those hands on her when they sparred, she had begun to see them exploring her body in a more...carnal activity. She began to wonder how it would feel to have that hard muscular body on top of her. This was...not right...but so right somehow.

It was just another thing that didn't make sense in her new life living with aliens.

"What?"

He had said something but her mind had been in other places.

"That is all for the lesson today." Those yellow eyes stared at her with irritation.

"I'm doing my best, Scar." He huffed a breath of annoyance. His real name was jibberish to her still, so Scar it was. The scar on his forehead was another reminder of what Lex had been through almost a year ago. "I'm sorry for disappointing you."

His expression softened as he helped her to her feet. Her breath hitched slightly when his rough hand patted her on the shoulder gently.

If he had noticed her reaction to his touch, he was pretty damn good at ignoring it. "In time you will improve."

His English was rough and hard to understand, but she was grateful for his attempts. She met him half way with, "I am trying."

"Try harder."

"I'm at my limit."

"If only you could see what I see." Those were his parting words as he turned to leave, clearly not having broken a sweat.

Watching him go was a sight she liked to watch. The muscles in his back flexed with every step, showing off how built he was. For an alien, he sure reminded her of one of those old marble statues.

An image of muscled perfection.

Pretty soon she was alone in the training room. The others on the ship were busy with some sort of banquet for the return of the newly blooded Yautja. Scar had pulled her from her lonesome spot for a training session.

His nearness made her heart stutter in a good way. She also had come to enjoy his company. When he wasn't being so uptight, he made a good companion.

Perhaps that was where her attraction for him bloomed. Or...it was Bouvetøya.

Just thinking of that damn island brought back the memories of those screeching black things.

As she gathered her water skin and made her way to the public showers, she remembered the harrowing experience of trying to get out of that pyramid. Scar and her had barely made it out alive. They had been lucky, and quick enough. Together they had worked to kill the bug Queen.

Scar called it a candy amedha. She still couldn't quite grasp the syllables but to herself she called them the bugs. That's all they were. Black beetle-like bugs that dragged their victims off into the darkness.

Everyone who had been in there with her had died. Everyone but her and Scar.

Somehow, one of those spider things had infected him and he had barely survived the surgery. It had taken just a few days of recovery, however, and he was back on his feet. His "clan leader" had tasked him with her training.

She was now his burden.

The more she grasped his difficult language, the more it became apparent that his fellow clan members saw her as a pet. She had helped to kill the Queen, but their pride wouldn't accept it. Even he barely mentioned it. His refusal to do so was wearing on her mentally.

Maybe she was a pet after all. She hoped for the sake of her heart that he didn't see her like that.

As crazy as it was...she wanted him to see her for the strong woman she was slowly becoming. Lex knew she was already strong, she knew that from years leading expeditions in polar and isolated regions, but she wanted him to actually see her. Wanted him to look at her the way he would when a female Yautja showed him attention.

He would puff his chest out like a preening bird and posture to make himself bigger. Many times he had interrupted their training sessions to go show off for a female with wandering eyes.

She snorted, remembering how hard he tried once.

It was downright comical. He didn't need to do anything but stand there and impress Lex. There wasn't a single thing that didn't impress her about him. These females were missing out.

Sorely.

They didn't see what she saw.

Lex reached the public bathing room and had just entered the dark, steamy entrance when she froze in her tracks.

There, standing in all his naked glory, was the muse of her thoughts. He had just removed his loincloth and was crouched low to test the water with his fingers. His long tubular black dreadlocs fell a little past his shoulders and shined even in the low light. Seeing his sculpted body on full display made that heat coil in her lower belly.

Just as he began to turn around she fled the room. She practically ran and headed in the direction to her tiny quarters. On the way out she collided violently with the edge of the doorway in her rush to escape.

Doing without a shower right now would have to make due, despite how gross she felt. Anything to avoid letting those carnal thoughts further take root. When some time had passed, she would go and clean up, and hopefully by then the bathing room would be empty again. There was no way in hell that she would get naked around him.

She hoped to God that he couldn't smell her hormones. Surely they were screaming that she wanted to have sex with him. Hopefully none of the Yautja could smell it, but she was beginning to lose hope about that. In her peripheral vision she would see them turn to look at her and scent the air, their mandibles spreading open.

It was truly embarrassing.

If they could smell it then he could smell it.

Lex was a grown woman and felt like a horny teenager all over again. If her mother hadn't passed a few years prior, then she likely would've been scolding her for avoiding the alien man rather than being direct and telling him she wanted him. Her mom was a very forward and blunt woman, so she would've nagged her about.

Oh, how she missed her. She missed her dad, too.

Thinking of family helped to ground her in the present and not get swept up in the process of falling in love with an alien. An alien who likely would never return those sentiments. She was small compared to one of their females, so she'd likely get hurt in the "mating" anyways.

After only being on the ship for two days she had walked on a couple beating the crap out of each other. The male managed to force the female into submission and that was when she left.

The sight was unlike anything she had ever seen.

Their version of foreplay was a display of strength and power. That was something she never could do. Scar would always be stronger than her, sure, but would he think to be careful with her if it ever came to it? Would he be gentle as he had been in their training sessions?

Getting fingered was totally out of the question with those claws of his. Just thinking about them shoved inside was both thrilling and worrisome. There was a lot of delicate tissue down there!

Lex spent her time pacing around her tiny room until she made the trip back to the bathing room. Seeing that it was safe and clear, she disrobed and sank into the pool-sized tub.

A good soak solved everything.

~❤️•❤️•❤️~

Lex's muscles worked hard as she pulled herself up to set her foot on the closest foothold. A quick glance down showed that she had to be at least two stories high by now. The room was still empty so she was able to freely concentrate.

She needed it.

Free soloing was dangerous.

There was no margin for error. Every move had to be precise and carefully executed. Utter patience was vital. Many years had passed since she had free soloed.

The last time had been El Capitan in Yosemite National Park in 2001, prior to the events of that September. After that, it was difficult to get around by plane for obvious reasons, so her travels to various places around the world to climb or lead expeditions had been limited.

After the day's events...Lex needed this.

She was sluggish and awkward in combat but this was where she shined. Her skills were mountaineering, ice, rock climbing, and navigating dangerous terrain — not fighting. The fact that the Yautja even had a rock climbing wall was exciting. It was a chance to push herself to the limit in a familiar setting.

Yautja were huge compared to her, so the placements of the foot holds were wide apart, but she never backed down from a challenge. As a young adult she had scaled mountains people dreamed of.

This was just another challenge to tackle and overcome. A challenge was forcing her to use every ounce of her ingenuity and skill with climbing. There was no safety harness, no clips, no helmet, and no chalk. It was entirely on her own strength to scale it.

If only Scar could see her doing something she was actually good at. Maybe then he would look at her the way she looked at him...

Sighing to herself, she focused on the task at hand. A wandering mind could mean death with no gear. There could be no fuck ups.

Her hand found the next closest hold and then she quickly found the next hold for her foot. Up she climbed, her blood singing with the challenge. The muscles in her body ached, but it was a good ache. That kind of ache that she craved. She needed it.

Anything to distract from Scar.

"That blind alien can shove it where the sun don't shine." Lex muttered out loud. "I'll show that blind asshole. I'm like Beyoncé. I don't need any man or anybody!"

The anger and hurt bubbling within rose higher and higher, fueling her strength. All of her mixed emotions pushed her to keep going. Her body sang from the intense workout.

"As my dad always said, 'Instead of worrying how hard it gets, climb that mountain. Overcome it!' I may not ever get the attention from him I crave, but I will endure." Higher and higher she climbed, fast approaching her destination, the top of the climbing wall.

At last, she propelled herself up and onto the top, turning to survey the huge training room. The lights were dim due to the night cycle, the warm air slick on her skin, and the scent of victory hanging in a cloud above the woman. Lex stood tall and smiled to herself.

"There is no mountain I cannot climb, for I will come out on top of it."

As someone had once told her, the best view comes after the hardest climb.

For a while she sat on the wide black top of the wall, letting her body rest up for the climb back down. She had climbed the wall in her sports bra and underwear since the training room was always a bit hot and she needed to be able to move freely. Doing it damn near naked had made it much easier.

It was in the middle of the "night" so the ship was quiet and the majority of activity was minimal at best. No one trained at night, so she would take the opportunity to slip in extra training.

Losing a bit of sleep sucked but at least she could push herself to prove she was worthy of Scar's attention. Nighttime had also always been when she was most productive. This time of day was relaxing and there was no one to bug her.

Peaceful was the night.

Deciding that she had rested long enough, she pulled the rope she had brought with her from the clip at her waist and attached one end securely to a hook near the edge of the wall while the other end fell freely to the floor. She got a good grip of the rope, a thick black material, and began her descent. It was slow and a long way down but eventually she got to the point where she ran out of rope.

Below her was seven or so feet of free fall. Such a drop was sure to potentially hurt her ankles, but she took the chance and kept going until the very end of the rope.

Taking a deep breath, she angled her body at the right angle and let go. For a few seconds she fell, the ground quickly rushing up in her face. At the last few moments she rolled and landed in a tuck & roll where she was able to pop up in a squat on the ground safe.

"Nailed it." Breathed Lex in relief.

She yanked the rope and sent it falling in a heap; the knot she used easily undone when pulled a certain way. Once she had it wound up and neatly tied, she placed it back on a shelf where she had found it.

To make the most of her time she moved on to practicing the maneuvers Scar had been drilling over the past week and a half...or was it two? Time was difficult to tell with no clocks and only her busted up watch. The days had started to blend together. Most of her time had been spent training and learning the language. Free time was typically nonexistent during the day.

Over and over she slowly went through the right motions, making sure she had them absolutely right.

Scar had frequently told her that in a real fight for her life there would be no margin for error. Much like when free soloing, every move had to be carefully calculated.

~❤️•❤️•❤️~

A while had passed as she practiced the moves over and over again. Her body was nearing its limit. It felt like the more she repeated the moves, the more she struggled. Eventually she found herself too tired to go on and after gathering her water skin she made the long trek back to her quarters.

The ship's hallway was dimly lit, strips of red lights near the floor casted weird shadows.

After surviving the pyramid on Bouvetøya she hated the shadows and what they could hide. Even with her being on a spaceship full of Yautja, literal experts with killing them, she could still hear the hissing. Sebastian had been dragged to his death by those things.

Every last one of them.

Gone.

Because of those things.

Those...kiande amedha.

The serpents.

As if her mood wasn't bad enough, as soon as she rounded the corner where her room was, Scar was waiting by her door. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossing over his chest, watching her approach.

She couldn't help the flutter of her heart at the sight of him. Like always he looked magnificent. No part of him that wasn't bulging with muscle. A simple black loincloth covered his groin as her only saving grace of having to wonder what he hid under there.

"H-Hi, Scar." Lex keyed in the code for her quarters, glancing up at him as he loomed over her. She motioned inside with a wave of her hand, "Would you like to come in?"

He had yet to say a word, nodding. And so he followed as she entered the room, the futuristic door sliding shut behind Scar.

She felt bad that she only had her bed for him to sit on. It also unnerved her that he had never seen her so...naked. Damn near nude! The clothing she wore was minimal and scant.

Those yellow eyes of his lingered on her form as she moved items around for him to sit. He said some words under his breath that she didn't understand when she told him to take a seat.

"Back on Earth, I'd be able to be a better host, so my apologies."

Scar cocked his head to the side in question, "I do not understand."

Right...his customs are way different than my own...

Tentatively she sat next to him, wrapping a fur around herself to cover her scantily clad body. "Well, on Earth, in the...uhh...clan I'm in...we would offer a drink or something to eat for guests. It's considered polite to make your guests feel comfortable. That's why I apologized. It's...habit." She worked to comb her hair, now down to her shoulder blades, and brought it into a ponytail.

He was silent as he soaked in her words. After a few moments he grunted.

He was a man of few words.

"Yautja offer c'ntlip, an alcoholic beverage." His deep voice was rough around the edges but she didn't mind. It was him.

"Ah, well, humans only offer alcohol when we want to have a good time."

Another grunt.

"What's on your mind, Scar?" Being careful with his claws, she took his large hand in her small and intertwined their fingers.

The sight was almost comical since his hand dwarfed hers by a lot, but she liked the difference. It was unique and something she had come to not mind so much. Such a size difference didn't matter.

A few of his long black locs fell forward over his broad shoulders as he leaned towards her. His body was angled towards her as he reached out to stroke the mark on her cheek, the very same one he had placed there.

Gentle purring rumbled in his great chest as he inched closer. The nearness of his body to hers when they weren't sparring made her blood sing with happiness. Whether he noticed or not, he didn't show. He continued to stroke her cheek gently, his finger trailing down her jaw and delicate neck. Left behind in the wake of his touch were goosebumps.

Lex held her breath as he leaned ever closer.

"Despite what you think, you are improving. You have come a long way, Alexa." For some reason his voice sounded like a purr, deep and growly. Her body reacted just as expected, that coil tightening in her lower belly.

Scar continued to speak, his eyes widening so slightly that she didn't notice. "You will never be as strong as Yautja, but your strength lies in your cunning and small stature. Learn to be confident in that and you will go far."

She wanted to ask why he continued to openly flirt with females if he thought so much about her.

Why do you ignore my want for you in the favor of them? Am I not good enough after all?

"Perhaps...one day I can compete with the females of your kind."

Ha! Take that, Scar!

The big oaf drew back and turned his gaze to anywhere but her. There was a slight tinge of green to his concave cheeks, his hand tugging free of hers so he could scratch as his crest. She had known him long enough now to notice he did that when he was nervous or feeling awkward.

A few times during training sessions, he had pinned her down in...intimate positions. Per usual, her body reacted sexually and her hips had grinded against him much to her embarrassment. His reaction had been to freeze, his body pressing against hers for just a moment before he backed off. Naturally, she wanted to tug on his long locs, the few that had fallen over her shoulders, and bring him closer.

The thought was gone in a flash, however, when he removed himself from the situation. There had been a lot of apologizing and lying about it being a "natural reaction for human females". Any white lie she could think of to save the embarrassment.

"Yautja females are..." he continued in his native tongue, possibly trying to find the right words.

Once again Alex tried to meet him halfway by speaking in his language to the best of her ability.

"Larger?"

"Sei'i, but there is another word I seek."

"Scary? Mean? Attractive? Funny?"

Scar growled in frustration, his mandibles twitching and causing his tusks to make that familiar clicking noise.

"They are complicated." His broad shoulders sagged in relief and finding the word he wanted. "You, Lex, are not."

Complicated? What's that supposed to mean?

Lex racked her brain for what he could possibly mean by that and was about to ask him but he stood up abruptly. His face looked...tense? Flustered?

She was still learning how to read his face. The way he and his kind showed emotions was subtle and different than she was used to. Closely watching his face for the subtleties helped to solve that.

Understanding him better was why she had found herself falling for him. He and his kind were so much...deeper than she had thought. This large alien that was both sure and unsure of himself was adorable in his own way. She couldn't help finding his sudden nervousness cute. He was like an overgrown cat.

Aloof.

Scar quickly made his way to the door. His hand was over the door panel to open it when she stopped him, her hand catching his hand. He paused to look down at her, chittering in question.

"Wait, you don't have to leave. You just got here!" Lex smiled, running her fingers gently across his palm.

The large alien turned to chirrup at her, his eyes bright as he stood there. "It is late. I must rest."

"I would be happy if you stayed with me for the night, hun."

His purred like a giant cat as he stood there weighing the options. He chittered to himself with words she didn't know, talking to himself it seemed. She was hoping he would stay for the night so she could snuggle with him.

Too bad he disappointed her by ultimately saying no, his long black locs swishing back and forth as he shook his head.

"I cannot. Sleep well, Lex." He waved his hand over the access panel and swiftly made his exit.

Lex sat on her bed with a defeated sigh. She had been so close to enjoying his company a little longer, but like usual, he turned her down and made his great escape.

His words had her questioning if maybe she was misunderstanding his actions. If he had such nice words to say about her, then what was he doing trying to get the attention of female Yautja and ignoring the obvious signs she wanted him? Was there some cultural divide she wasn't aware of? Surely, that had to be the issue.

She normally was great with men; all except this one.

An alien man.

Groaning in frustration, she lied on the bed and stared at the ceiling. She decided to sleep in what she wore and snuggled beneath the large fur pelt that acted as a warm blanket. Sleep was in order before she could solve the mystery of Scar.

#alien vs predator #avp #scarxlex #scar and alexa #yautja #predator #yautjalover #fanfic #monster romance #interspecies romance #teratophillia #monster fucker #alien

80 notes · View notes

late-to-the-magnus-archives · 9 months

Text

This Dark Thing That Sleeps In Me - a Magnus Archives AU, Chapter Five

This is a DARK AU; it is not a kid-fic, though Jon is young. Bittersweet ending ahead.

Spoilers for the whole show, though this is very much an alternate universe.

Something truly new was coming this way—new to Jon, new in a way that frightened him, and he was so unused to being scared that it took the breath right from his lungs.

It approached, this thing, like a storm, like the tide, and everyone else in the room turned and bowed toward the door as if they were puppets on a single string.

AO3

Art by @iiiumihottie

Jon thought the carriage was amazing. He ran his fingertips over the dark red lacquer, stared with wide-eyed wonder at the gilded framework depicting battles and ocean waves and indistinct kings, studied the patterned seat fabric, which was unlike any fabric he’d yet encountered.

Martin kept checking around them. The next wave of Fingers weren’t close yet, so they should be okay.

“So you’re saying the date has to wait,” Mike said.

Martin gave him a look of such exasperation that Jon decided, on the spot, that he liked them both.

Before Martin could answer, Jon said, “What’s it like being a vampire?”

Martin and Mike both stared at him.

“How… did you know that I am?” said Martin.

Jon blinked. “I mean. Isn’t it obvious?”

“No?” said Martin. He looked at Mike for confirmation.

Mike shrugs. “Not really, no.”

“Oh.” So he’d said a weird thing. The yelling would come next. Jon dropped his gaze.

But Martin didn’t yell. “You can actually see that?” he said, light and chipper and not at all accusing, and Jon risked a single glance up.

Huh. No yelling seemed to be forthcoming “Yes.”

“What does that look like?”

In Jon’s entire fourteen years, no one had ever asked him that question. “I see red inside of you,” he began at once, leaning forward. “I see it like mist, just beneath your skin, but mostly from the side, not exactly if I look dead on. It’s a little like the purple storms that come sometimes, stealing life the moment they rain, but nobody else can see those, apparently, so I don’t know if you can, or if you know what they look like.”

“Purple,” Martin began, but Jon couldn’t stop now.

“I look at you, and I can see hunger, and feel hunger, and I can tell it’s for blood, and I’ve read books, and I know there haven’t been vampires like you since the First Iteration, but here you are, and that means you’re either very old or very young, because the Will of the End decided the new vampires were no good and got rid of them, though I certainly don’t know why, so either you somehow survived that ‘cleansing,’ or somebody made you new, and that’s just baffling because why would the Will of the End have left you alive so long, anyway? And also, what is it like to drink blood?”

Mike started laughing.

What was with this kid? “You see all that, do you?” said Martin.

“Yes,” said Jon, half hyper, half terrified. Any moment now, he’d be told to shut up. “So what’s it like?”

“Hungry,” said Martin, answering softly. “All the time. It means very patient friends who… help.”

“They let you have their blood,” Jon said.

“I want it to stay personal so it doesn't turn... wrong,” said Martin quietly, and redirected, tilting his head toward Mike. “What do you see when you look at him?”

“Whoa, now,” said Mike.

“You laugh, you’re part of the show,” Martin said primly.

Mike stuck his tongue out at him.

Jon looked. Jon shivered. “Tall jagged mountains, dark brown and spattered with white. I don’t know where they are,” he whispered. “Cold and sharp like knives. So far away you can’t make out the details. I think they’re enormous. The wind is so loud that it feels like your ears are bleeding.”

They all stared at one another.

“Eye?” suggested Mike again.

“Then why can’t we see him clearly?” said Martin.

“I’m not Aligned,” said Jon. “It never happened.”

“That really isn’t possible,” said Martin.

Mike nodded. “Looking right at you, I can see you… sort of. But if I turn my head away, I don’t—and I almost forget you’re there. It’s weird.”

“I think that's why nobody came,” said Jon. “When I turned ten.”

Martin sighed. “Maybe we’ll find out.”

“Bet your friend Sasha could make out a thing or two,” said Mike.

“You know, that’s not a bad idea.”

“Who’s Sasha?”

“Works for the Heart of the End with me. She’s a natural philosopher.”

Ooh! One of those people who did experiments and discovered things. “So what does she do? Test things with fire and acid and such? Hey—is the Will of the End separate from the Heart? The books sometimes speculated Jonah Magnus was both.”

“Where did you read that? No, they’re two people,” said Martin. “Oliver Banks is the Will of the End.”

“How does that work?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t there when it was all set up.” Martin checked out the window again, visibly nervous.

“Should… should we just let them get me?” said Jon. “The empty things were coming for me, after all.”

“The Fingers?” said Mike.

“Yes. Hey, why are they called Fingers? They have full bodies.”

“Because… well, I suppose because they reach out and grab whatever the Will of the End wants,” said Martin.

“Oh,” said Jon. “That’s more boring than I’d hoped.”

“What did you hope?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Jon. “Maybe they all came together like clay and made a huge, single hand. That’d be pretty frightening, right?” he said, demonstrating with his hands an approximation of clay being mushed together.

“I like this kid,” said Mike, and Jon reddened.

The carriage angled suddenly, front end tilting so Jon was pressed back into his seat. He gasped. “Are we falling?”

“Oh—no, we’re on the path,” said Martin.

Jon stared at him. “What’s that?”

“Ever made it to the far end of London?”

“No, I… it felt like I shouldn’t.” His past self had said to stay away from this side of the city, so he had.

Martin wrestled with the window, which opened with a squeak. “Take a look.”

Jon carefully stuck his head through. At first glance, they seemed to be floating. All around them was a precipitous drop, terrible all the way down to white, foaming ocean. Jon, of course, leaned right out the window to see more.

Martin grabbed the back of his jacket, discovered its structural integrity was suspect, and held his arm instead.

Jon gave him a panicked look.

“Just so you can look without falling,” Martin says. “It’s all right. Go on.”

Permission to see?

Permission to see! Jon never got permission to see. He leaned back out the window.

The cab (and dead horse) trotted along a gently curving path that rose from the ocean like a wall, and it was so narrow that the wheels skirted right along the edge. There was no room for error; there was no room for another carriage. Fascinated, Jon looked back at London.

He had never imagined anything like it. Books did a fair job of describing things, but they were nothing like sight. London sprawled. It smoked like one big chimney. People like ants crawled all over its streets, and carriages of various sizes and wealth reflected sunlight like knives. It was gloriously ugly; uneven, asymmetrical, an absolute mess of housing and occasional manors.

And Jon realized with a shock that he could not tell where his home had been.

He had no reference point. There were many alleys, many row houses like he’d seen from his windows, many old, out-of-date buildings looming between the newer builds. The place he’d grown up was… lost to him. He hadn’t liked it, but still. This was a very, very weird feeling.

(And a familiar one. You can never go home again came to him from his past self, which he didn’t understand, but felt hollow and powerful and true.)

Martin tapped his shoulder. “Look the other way,” he said.

So. That might have been the reason his gut said to stay away, because once he'd got an eyeful of this place, he wouldn’t have been able to.

This palace—fortress?—seemed to rise from rock thrust up from the sea, and it was a strange, black stone laced with purple chunks and purple branches, castellated and columned. Its edges matched the edges of the foundational rock on which it sat, and so its shape was odd; it had so many windows (and so many floors) that Jon was overwhelmed, forgetting how to count, and had to crane his neck to look up, up, up at the tallest, narrow tower, which rose so high in the air that its top seemed to narrow to a point.

“It’s something, right?” said Martin.

Jon didn’t want to come back into the carriage, but if he didn’t, he couldn’t ask questions. He compromised by pulling partway in before speaking. “It seems… large?”

Mike snorted.

“It is,” said Martin.

“Why is it so large?”

“The Heart of the End likes fancy things,” said Martin.

Well, it seemed fancy. “When was it built? How?”

“That’s before my time, I’m afraid,” said Martin.

“So you’re a young vampire,” said Jon.

Martin smiled. “I’m not that young—been doing this for over a century. Not entirely sure how long—lost a couple of years there, after my change.”

“It’s called the transformation, ” Jon informed him primly.

Mike snorted again.

“Be nice,” said Martin said to him. “I’m the only vampire right now, and the Heart called it the change.”

Jon looked betrayed. “He changed the name?”

Don’t laugh, Martin told himself. “He did.”

“I don’t like it when they change the names of things,” said Jon, his voice cracking. “Then nobody knows anything.”

“Probably half the reason he does it,” Martin muttered.

“Don’t need to know anything, though, do you?” says Mike. “It doesn’t really matter.”

And fuck, did the carriage get cold, and huge, though nothing had changed, and no one had moved, but suddenly they were so far away from each other that they could not see one another’s faces. Martin gasped. The irrelevance hit him in the chest, like it always did. They’d fucked like this, a couple of times, and it had its pros—all about pure sensation, no sense of self—but he didn’t honestly enjoy forgetting who he was or why it mattered.

It didn’t affect Jon that way. It didn’t affect Jon at all. “But it does matter!” Jon shouted, not angrily, but just because everyone was far.

“Mike, please!” Martin gasped, his voice sounding distant and tinny and tinny.

Jon looked around. “This is so weird!” he shouted, then winced at his own volume.

Mike frowned, and suddenly the carriage was normal. “He’s Eye,” he said. “Can’t mark him for the Vast.”

“He’s not marked by the Eye, either, according to Annabelle.” Martin was shivering. “Warn a guy, would you?”

“Sorry. But he should’ve been marked.”

“By all means, take it up with the disembodied eyeball.” Martin said, and rubbed his face as the carriage finally came to a halt. “Thank the grave, we’re here,” he muttered, hopped out, and held the door for Jon.

Jon looked fine. He hopped down, nearly lost his footing, and leaned into Martin’s grab.

This boy was skin and bone. “When did you last eat something?” said Martin.

“Yesterday,” said Jon. “I’m not hungry right now.”

Martin sighed. “Sure. Come on. It’s time to meet my natural philosopher friend.”

“Sasha.”

“That’s right.”

Mike followed.

“You sure?” said Martin to him, over his shoulder.

“Just because they don’t ring your bell like I do,” said Mike, left it at that, and followed.

Jon tried to see everything as they went inside; to note the pillars and archways, to wonder at the windows so high nothing could see through them, to ponder at the dark shadows left and right. So many doors, so many pathways. The floor hid some kind of shiny pattern in polished, dark stone; his boots, still soaked from his dunk in the sea, slipped on it more than a little. But then they turned away from this main, broad foyer, and through one of the arched and pointed doors.

It was a hall. Lined with more doors, and only a stone flag floor instead of shiny patterned black. This was a far less intimidating area.

Still. The weight of this enormous structure seemed to press down on him, and Jon hunched. “I’m sorry, I’m making a mess,” he said.

“It’s okay. Someone will clean it up. Come on.” Martin sounded like he meant it.

“Hey,” Jon said. “Are you nice because you’re a vampire?”

Martin blinked at him, pausing with his hand on yet another door. “What?”

“You’re nicer than anyone I’ve met,” said Jon. “The only factor not shared by others is that you’re a vampire. So. Does that make you nice?”

“Uh… I think being nice makes you nice?” said Martin, who had absolutely no idea where to go with this.

Jon looked dissatisfied. “That’s like saying fire burns because it’s hot.”

Martin took another turn. “All right, well,” he said. “I think being kind—which is more important than nice—is a choice.”

“Why is it more important?”

What was with this kid? “Nice is fake. It’s being polite when you don’t actually mean it, and not bothering when it costs you anything. Being kind is better. It means you don’t get anything out of it, and you’re choosing to do the right thing to others whether or not it hurts you.”

Jon suddenly felt off. “Is being kind to me hurting you?”

“What? No, no, it… I mean, it doesn’t always hurt.”

“Oh.” But something did. Jon knew. Martin’s kindness to him was dangerous to Martin, or… or…

He couldn’t hold onto that answer, and it was gone. He sighed.

“You’ve really never met anybody who’s just even nice to you?” said Martin.

“No.” Jon was quiet.

Martin took that in. “I’m sorry. People should’ve been,” he said, and opened another door.

It was a dark room, very dark, with a single table under bright white light and two silhouettes of people.

“Marto!” said a man. “To what do we owe the honor?”

“I have a conundrum,” said Martin.

“And so you bring your problems to me, as always,” said a woman with cheer, and stepped out of the gloom. She was pretty; her kinky hair was thick and pulled back in a bun. She was dressed in an odd white uniform, a long coat with too many buttons to be decorative, and on her head was some kind of bizarre contraption of brass and glass and limbs to move the lenses around. “Ugh. You could’ve just said it was him.”

“Yo,” said Mike over Martin’s shoulder.

“What? No, it’s this kid,” said Martin.

Both people startled.

“What… what the fuck is that?” said the man, coming forward into the light.

Jon knew him. Knew Sasha, too. He was beginning to get a feeling about all of this regarding his past self.

This man wore a positively indecent white shirt that didn’t even have buttons and just closed in a vee under the red sash around his waist. His black pants were so tight that Jon could see far too much; his earrings sparkled (and didn’t match, but that was somehow better). His lips had to be artificially pink, and so did the blue shading around his brown eyes; dark hair, tanned skin, and a grin that made Jon want to grin back all felt like something he knew like the back of his hand, though he had definitely never met this man before.

“This is Jon. So it’s hard to see him,” said Martin.

“Yeah, can see that. Why?” said the man.

“I can’t tell what I’m…” said the woman, who had to be Sasha, and bent down a little to make eye-contact. “You’re alive, right?”

“I think so,” said Jon. “If not, I’m annoyed that I still get hungry and need sleep.”

“A valid point.” She smiled. “I’m Sasha.”

“I know. Martin told me.”

“Did he, now?” she said, glancing over his head at Martin.

The man (Jon almost had his name) leaned in, peering. “What happened to you? You look like a wet cat.”

Martin sighed. “Kind of a lot? I had to fight Fingers.”

“Oh, nasty,” said the man with relish.

Sasha frowned, eyeing Jon’s clothes with clinical precision. “Underfed,” she said, leaning in. Her eye through that single goggle was enormous. “And you are Uncertain. I don’t know how, but you are.”

“I know,” he said. “I’m fourteen, Ms. James.”

“Tim, can you get some clothes for them both?” said Sasha. “Jon, you can use my chemical burn shower. Martin, use the one in my room. You both need it fairly badly.”

“Sorry,” said Martin.

“Can I watch?” said Mike.

“Not helping,” Martin muttered at him.

Tim grinned and opened his mouth to say something, and then he froze.

They all froze.

Something truly new was coming this way—new to Jon, new in a way that frightened him, and he was so unused to being scared that it took the breath right from his lungs.

It approached, this thing, like a storm, like the tide, and everyone else in the room turned and bowed toward the door as if they were puppets on a single string.

Jon panicked. Should he hide? What should he do?

Steady, said that self, that past, that source of Answers, telling him to brace, to be still, to be smart.

Jon tried to calm his mind, but couldn’t help holding his breath.

chapter six

#rusty quill big bang #rusty quill big bang 2023 #rqbb2023 #tma #tma fic #the magnus archives #magpod #magnuspod #tma au #the magnus archives au #tma spoilers #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #sasha james #jonah magnus #annabelle cane #tim stoker #this dark thing that sleeps in me

7 notes · View notes

hollyethecurious · 2 years

Text

CS AU: Conviction (11/11)

Summary: The story had been front page news for months. Scandalous details of a married woman of low birth and with limited means, murdering her husband; hatcheting him to death in order to save her own life and that of her unborn child - or so she claimed. No evidence to support her allegations of abuse had been presented during the trial, but in the end, it was the fact that Mrs. Cassidy was with child that saved her from a verdict of murder in the first degree, a judgment that carried the death penalty for both men and women alike. As an act of mercy, a lesser charge was issued, one that spared her life but now made her Misthaven Penitentiary’s problem to contend with, and more specifically, the Captain of the Guard charged with keeping order within its walls.

A/N: We have made it to the conclusions! Thanks y’all for going on this journey with me! Hope you enjoy this final chapter!

Thanks to my amazing betas, @snowbellewells and @kmomof4 (especially since they interrupted their vacation to look this chapter over. You ladies ROCK!!) Also, shout out to @sotangledupinit for the assist in defringing Killian for the art.

Rated T-M (for themes, mentions of abuse, murder, and attempted assault) / Available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list

Chapter Eleven

A laugh gurgled up from Henry’s little chest, his arms and legs flailing wildly in his cradle when Killian’s face came into view. “Good morning, my boy,” Killian cooed as he picked up the lad and nestled him against his chest. “Sleep well?”

“He slept very well,” Emma told him from behind her privacy screen where Elsa was assisting her in getting dressed for the day. “Fourth night in a row that he’s been out from one roll call to the next.”

Killian smiled down at the babe in his arms, Henry’s chubby hand trying to grasp the brass buttons of his uniform. “That’s my good lad,” he praised, placing a kiss to the soft fuzz at Henry’s temple.

“You wanted to see me, Captain?”

Killian turned to find Officer Booth standing at attention in the doorway. The tell-tale signs of fatigue from the night shift were evident in the dark patches beneath his eyes, making Killian reluctant to say, “Aye. I need you to escort the ladies on their walk before returning to the barracks. I shall relieve you as soon as I am finished meeting with the Warden and he departs for the Magistrate.”

Booth acknowledged the order with a dutiful nod, then met Killian’s eyes with a significant gaze. The officer knew what business was to be discussed and the purpose for which the warden would be departing for the Magistrate’s office. They all did. The Board was meeting to rule on Swan’s petitions that morning, and both her solicitor and the warden had been summoned to attend. Although Killian knew he and his brother would likely have the same conversation they’d been having over the past several days, he did not want his brother to leave without speaking to him, especially since neither he nor Emma would be in attendance at the ruling.

“All set.”

Emma and Elsa came out from behind the privacy screen, both looking the picture of perfection with a poise and grace Killian knew only existed on the surface. Beneath their cool and calm facades they were just as anxious as he was about today’s Board meeting, but had clearly determined to meet the day head on with a measure of hope and optimism.

Killian envied them that.

“Here. I’ll take him,” Booth offered, stepping forward to wrestle Henry out of Killian’s arms. The lad fussed a bit, reaching for Killian as he was pulled away, then quickly quieted when Booth pulled funny faces, enthralled by the amusing expressions and accompanying noises.

“You’ll join us soon?” Emma inquired as Killian led her from her cell, the quiver in her voice not escaping his attention.

Taking her hand, Killian gave it a confident squeeze. “Aye. I won’t be but a few minutes. Liam will need to head for the Magistrate’s office soon.” Walking with her, he paused at the top of the side stairs, letting Booth and Elsa go on ahead as he took her other hand and pressed her palms against his chest. “I won’t tell you not to worry, but try and enjoy the beautiful morning. We’ll all hold on to hope while we can, aye?”

A soft smile ticked up the corners of her mouth as she nodded. “Tell the warden again how much I appreciate him advocating for me.”

“I will,” Killian murmured, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around her so he might offer her the comfort of his embrace. “You should go. I’ll catch up.”

Acquiescing, Emma turned towards the stairs, but before she began her descent, she turned back and placed a quick peck to his cheek. The hurried sound of her footsteps down the stairs matched the quickened rhythm of his heart.

Ever since their shared moment he had longed to have her in his arms again, to feel the softness of her lips and the warmth of her tongue against his. His nights had been filled with torment as the memory of her touch overwhelmed him, and reminiscence had turned to fantasies fueled by desire and longing he could no longer keep at bay.

Releasing a shaky breath, Killian ran his hand through his hair and made his way to his brother’s office. He had half-expected the warden to go straight to the Magistrate’s office this morning, however, both he and Elsa had arrived shortly after Killian had. He should have known that, like him, his sister-in-law would want to be by Emma’s side as they waited for the ruling to be passed down, and he was grateful that Liam had chosen to escort his wife to the prison first, giving him an opportunity to touch base with his brother one last time.

“Have you everything you’ll need?” Killian asked after being waved into the office.

“I believe so,” Liam replied, reviewing some papers on his desk. “I have your, and the rest of the officers’, statements regarding Miss Swan’s character, and the unanimous consensus amongst the guards that she be released. Hopper will have statements from the community with a similar show of support. The only question is whether the Board will hear such testimony.”

“They have to,” Killian insisted, not for the first time. He and Liam had gone over the hearing a dozen times, approaching it from every angle and discussing every possible argument and outcome. Both brothers, along with Swan’s solicitor, had been incensed at the Board’s denial of Emma’s attendance, leaving it in the hands of Mr. Hopper and Warden Jones to plead her case. Liam had offered to take Killian with him, presuming his captain would warrant admittance into the proceedings, but as much as he would love nothing more than to speak on his Swan’s behalf, there was no guarantee he would be extended that privilege, and he would much rather wait by Emma’s side at the prison than a lonely corridor outside the Boardroom.

Liam checked the time on his watch and sighed. “I best be off.”

As Liam gathered his things, Killian could hear frantic footsteps making their way from the side stairs before the out of breath voice of Mr. Hopper inquired, “Have you received word?”

“What are you d--”

“Have you received word?” Hopper asked again, cutting off Liam’s inquiry.

“Word of what?”

“The Board’s ruling! I was just informed by the Magistrate’s office that they met in secret last night and ruled on the petitions.”

“You cannot be bloody serious!” Killian roared, but Hopper continued, unfazed.

“Apparently, their decision was dispatched to both my office and the prison this morning, but as I went straight to the Magistrate for the meeting, I have not been to my office yet. I came here since the prison is closer to see if you have received the missive.”

“They met in bloody secret?” Killian railed on. “How? How is that even--”

“Sir?” All eyes snapped to Officer Briar, who was hovering at the doorway, holding an official looking envelope in his hand. “This just arrived for you from the Magistrate’s office.”

Philip handed the envelope to his warden, who then dismissed the officer, and Killian watched, his pulse thundering in his ears and his stomach churning with anxiety and rage as his brother opened the letter.

“They cannot do this,” Killian said as Liam read over the contents. “They can’t just rule without any representation on Emma's behalf! We’ll appeal. All the way to the Governor if necessary!”

“Killian,” Liam began attempting to calm him, but he had already whipped himself up into a righteous frenzy.

“I mean it, brother! They cannot do this! We cannot allow this injustice to stand! We--”

“Killian!” Liam shouted, quieting his captain and nodding towards Hopper who was now looking over the letter. “Read it.”

His brother’s expression, coupled with the astonished look on Hopper’s face, prompted Killian to snatch the parchment from the solicitor’s hands, his eyes widening and heart leaping after reading only a few lines of the ruling. Killian’s eyes snapped up, and the two men were staring back at him, each with the same edict in their gaze, though it was Hopper who voiced it.

“Go,” he said. “She’d want to hear it from you.”

Killian needed no further prompting. Rushing from the room with the missive clutched in his hand, he barrelled down the side stairs and sprinted around the exterior of the prison until the moseying party of three came into view.

“Officer Booth!” Killian shouted, gaining their attention. “Would you please escort Mrs. Jones back inside? I’ll take over as Miss Swan’s escort.”

“Of course,” August dutifully replied.

“Oh, and Elsa,” Killian began, spying the baby buggy as he caught up to them, “Would you take Henry back inside with you?”

“Why--”

“Please, Elsa,” he said with firm intent in his voice. His sister-in-law’s eyes dropped to the crumpled parchment in his fist and seemed to deduce the reasoning for herself.

“We’ll see you back inside,” she said to Emma as she steered the carriage back towards the prison, following Officer Booth.

“Killian, what is going on?” Emma inquired as he waited until they were alone.

“I have something to show you,” he said, taking her hand and leading her towards the fortified wall that surrounded the prison yard.

Emma stopped short when they reached the gate, the only access point that led in and out of the prison, and one no prisoner was allowed to pass through without explicit permission from either the Warden or the Magistrate.

“What are you doing?” she exclaimed. “You know I can’t--”

“Actually,” Killian said, cutting off her protest and pressing the letter into her hand. “You can.”

Brow furrowed, Emma opened the crumpled piece of paper and began to look over its contents. As she read, Killian prompted her forward, step by step, until she crossed the line forbidden to inmates, placing herself free of the prison wall when she finally gasped.

“A pardon?” Her eyes darted from the page to Killian’s face. “The Board ruled that I be given a full pardon? How? When?”

“Hopper arrived not long after you left for your walk and told Liam and me that the Board had met in secret last night. This letter came almost immediately after.” Taking her hand, Killian pulled her a step closer. “It’s official and effective immediately, love. You're free.”

“I’m free,” she parroted back to him in shock, then elation burst from her, shimmering in her eyes and reverberating in her tone as threw her arms around his neck and exclaimed, “I’m free!”

Wrapping his arms around her, Killian lifted her off her feet and swung her around in his own exuberance, their laughter, full of joy and relief, echoing off the stone wall and surrounding trees.

Setting her back onto her feet, Killian cupped her face and assured her, “You and Henry won’t have to spend another night here. After today, you won’t ever have to set foot in this place again.”

Uncertainty clouded the delight in her eyes, her worry manifesting as she chewed her lip before asking, “But… where are we to go? How am I to provide for myself? For Henry? I have no plan--”

Reaching up, Killian scratched at the back of his ear and confessed, “Actually, I’ve already taken the liberty to make those arrangements for you, in the hopes of such an outcome. Granny has agreed to give you a room at the boarding house. You’ll have lodging and meals in exchange for domestic help, as well as a fair wage to help you get back on your feet. You can have Henry with you at all times, and will never be far from him whilst you work.”

Swan’s mouth fell open, speechless, until she remembered, “But… Granny has no vacancies. All of her rooms are taken, so how can she--”

“You and Henry will have my room,” he told her, causing her to balk. “It is actually one of the proprietor rooms anyway,” he added. “Located next to the kitchen and removed from the men’s rooms. It was Ruby’s before she married Graham, and will suit you both well.”

“I can’t take your room,” Emma protested. “Where will you go?”

Killian shrugged. “Back to the barracks.” Taking a deep breath, he took her hand in his, brushing his thumb over the backs of her knuckles. “Unless…”

“Unless what?”

Lowering himself to one knee, he kept hold of her hand and gazed up at her astonished face. “Unless you say yes to this next question. Then we can all stay in my room together until we find a place of our own.”

Emma gasped, her free hand flying first to her chest then up to her mouth as tears formed in her eyes.

“I love you, Emma Swan,” Killian declared, pouring out every ounce of his devotion to her. “You and Henry. I want you to be… I want us to be a family. I want to be your husband, and I want to be Henry’s father, so… What do you say, Swan? Will you marry me?”

“I…I,” she stammered, before a wide grin broke across her face. “Yes!”

Surging up off his knee, Killian’s lips crashed against hers. His hands tangled in her hair and fisted the back of her dress as she clung to him with the same jubilant desperation.

“I love you, too,” she murmured, their foreheads pressed together as they attempted to catch their breath. Her eyes flicked up beneath her lashes, her gaze clear and unburdened for the first time since they’d met. “I want to be your wife, and more than anything, I want you to be Henry’s father.” Her eyes fluttered shut and she released a shuddering exhale. “Though, I suppose, if I’m honest, I already consider you his father. You are his father, in every way that matters.” Locking her gaze with his once more, she reaffirmed, “And we both love you, so yes. Killian Jones, I will marry you.”

Knowing they had people waiting to celebrate Swan’s freedom kept them from losing themselves in one another completely. After a few more moments of exploring the newfound freedom to express their love for one another, they made their way back to the prison. Upon entering through the main door, they spotted an assembly gathered on the catwalk overhead.

“Well?” Elsa called out, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Emma smiled, and shared a brief glance with Killian before she shouted, “I’m free!”

The cheers and exuberant sounds clanging off the prison bars was damn near deafening, but it somehow managed to increase in volume and enthusiasm when Killian pulled Emma into his arms and announced, “And… She said yes!” before kissing her soundly.

~/~

The surf gently lapped against the shore as the setting sun warmed Killian’s face. Breathing in the salty brine, he shuffled his feet in the sand, his toe, still bare, with his shoes hanging off the fingers of his left hand, skimmed against something hard. Glancing down, he could see the iridescent pink of a shell peeking out from the fine particles, and a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as he bent down to pick it up.

Turning the lustrous object over in his hand, he was reminded of the promise he’d given his Swan, his wife, at Christmas, and pocketed it before turning back to see if she was ready to depart. Although, he knew getting her to leave would take some coaxing.

A few of their friends still lingered, perhaps wishing to give the newlyweds some sort of send off, but most had already taken their leave. Although they had wanted a small, quiet affair, neither of them had truly anticipated how many from the community and beyond would insist on witnessing the vows they’d exchanged here on the beach only a few hours ago, and if he had to hazard a guess, Killian would say that at the end of it all, neither he nor his bride would have had it any other way.

That did not mean his sister-in-law was off the hook for arranging the lavish affair behind their backs, even if Killian was impressed that she had managed to do so in only three short weeks.

Three weeks.

Three weeks since Swan’s pardon. Three weeks of watching the transformation that had begun behind stone walls come to fruition as she stepped out of the shame and shadows of her past and into the full confidence of a bright and happy future. And it would be happy, he’d make certain of that. They were already off to a good start.

“Captain! She told me to tell you she is nearly ready,” Belle called out, stepping out from behind a partition and taking hold of Will Scarlet’s hand, pulling him along. “Henry is almost finished with his feeding. She thought you’d want to tell him goodnight before Liam and Elsa--”

“Aye,” Killian said, quickening his pace towards the partition where Emma had excused herself to nurse Henry, giving him his final feeding for the day in the hopes he would sleep through the night in his aunt and uncle’s care, so Killian and his bride could enjoy an uninterrupted wedding night.

“Thank you both so much for coming,” Killian told the pair. Though he meant it, the words were more manners than anything else at the moment, eager as he was for everyone to leave so he could finally have some alone time with his wife.

“It was our pleasure,” Belle responded, smiling up at him. “You both deserve all the happiness.”

One of the women helping to clean up from the reception called out to Belle, and she excused herself to lend a hand, leaving the captain and one of his former inmates standing awkwardly with one another.

“I, uh… I want to thank you for… you know. Letting me be here today,” Scarlett said clumsily.

“It wasn’t my doing,” Killian told him, causing the man to wince. “No, I meant…” Killian sighed. Scarlet was a decent man. He’d proven as much with his steadfast friendship to Emma. Not to mention, his willingness to work hard and become a model prisoner whilst also earning the affections and trust of one of the kindest and cleverest women he knew. “Elsa and Belle, they planned all of this, and it was you who earned your parole in time to be here. So, while I am glad you were able to be here to stand in support of Emma and me, I had nothing to do with either the invite or the ruling.” Placing a hand on the man’s shoulder, Killian gave it a squeeze and said, “That’s all I meant.”

Scarlet nodded dubiously, clearly unconvinced. Not by Killian’s assertions that he was glad Scarlet had come to the wedding, but rather, “Nothing to do with the ruling, huh? I suppose the letter of support from the Captain of the Guard was from a different captain, then? Captain o’ the Fairy people, perhaps?”

“All right,” Killian replied in a tone of mock exasperation. “Maybe I had something to do with it.”

Scarlet’s impudence softened in his features, replaced by an expression of gratitude, albeit an awkwardly bashful one. “Yeah, well… thanks, Cap’n. Truly.”

“Just promise me I won’t regret the things I said in that letter,” Killian replied pointedly. “You’ve a second chance. Don’t waste it.”

“Oh, believe me, Cap,” Scarlet said, his eyes cutting towards the object of his affection. “I intend to make the most of my second chance.” Turning his attention back, he stuck out his hand towards Killian. “I won’t let you down.”

Accepting the proffered hand, Killian shook it and mused, “No. I don’t think you will.”

In his periphery, Killian caught sight of Emma making her way out from behind the partition, prepared to hand Henry off to Elsa. Just as it had when he’d watched her walk towards him along the beach, escorted by Mother Superior, and looking utterly ethereal in her ivory colored dress with delicately intricate lace detail, her hair swept up in soft braids and embellished with baby’s breath, Killian’s heart stuttered and his breath caught in his chest. She was stunning, and she was his. Just as he was hers.

Vaguely aware that Scarlet had said his farewells and joined Belle, Killian made his way to his wife who was fussing over Henry.

“He should have everything he needs in the bag,” she said, laying the groggy babe in the buggy. Henry wiggled and settled into place, rubbing his eyes and releasing a yawn. “If he gives you any trouble we’ll only be a few blocks--”

“We’ll be fine,” Elsa assured her, pulling Emma away from the carriage and giving her a tight hug. “You two enjoy your evening, and don’t worry about a thing.”

Giving them both a knowing wink, Elsa steered the buggy towards the main road where Liam was waiting, finishing his hosting duties as he bid farewell to the remaining guests on Killian and Emma’s behalf. Killian gave his brother a wave of thanks, then grabbed his bride’s hand, urging her down the beach and away from well-wishers so they would not be delayed in their escape.

Laughing, Emma followed after him. “In your haste to get me alone, I believe you have taken us the wrong way,” she teased. “The boarding house is the other way.”

“Aye,” he replied, slowing his pace and threading his fingers with hers. “But we aren’t headed to the boarding house.”

“We aren’t?”

“No,” he replied, his eyes full of a mischievous glint as he gave her a lop-sided smile. “I have a surprise for you.”

Another laugh bubbled from her chest. “I’m not sure I can take many more of those today.”

Killian knew the feeling. The entire day had been a wonderful surprise, filled with so much love and joy. Of course, they had known they would be married today, but both had been under the impression the affair would be small and subdued, with only a scant few in attendance. When he’d arrived at the venue, the beach being the one place both he and Emma had immediately agreed upon for the ceremony, Killian had realized that would not be the case.

Naturally, Liam and Elsa were there, each of them standing by Killian and Emma’s side, respectively. On the front row was Granny, holding little Henry in her lap as Ruby and Graham sat beside her, keeping the lad entertained. It was because of Graham that the entire Misthaven guard staff had been able to attend. He had brought a few of his own officers from Glowerhaven to oversee the prison, and it had meant so much to look out among the assembly and see his fellow officers seated in the crowd, many with their own lady loves at their sides. Indeed, the sheer number of attendees had been a bit overwhelming, but every bit of anxiety and nerves had left him when Emma had made her appearance.

They’d promised themselves to one another at the edge of the surf with the early evening horizon as their backdrop. Bishop Merlin - who was filling in for Bishop Spencer while the man took an unexpected sabbatical, mostly likely prompted by the rumors that had emerged from the Board’s investigation of Sydney Glass and their statements regarding Emma’s pardon - officiated the ceremony and had declared them husband and wife even as the cheers and whistles had already begun. It had taken every ounce of Killian’s patience and propriety to endure the reception that had followed, eager as he was to consummate their marriage. Given the glances, tinted with longing and desire, that caused a healthy glow to blush her cheeks, Killian knew his Swan had felt much the same.

“Mother Superior had some intriguing news to share,” Emma said, filling the silence with a slight warble in her tone. Wedding night jitters setting in, perhaps?

“Oh?”

“She said Bishop Merlin plans to reopen the Misthaven Convent in Spencer's absence. She and the other nuns will likely be returning by summer’s end. Isn’t that wonderful news?”

“Aye,” Killian replied. “I’ll have to let Liam and Robin know so they can reestablish the relationship between the convent and the prison.”

“Why Robin? Was he the liaison before the convent closed?”

“No,” Killian hedged, slowing their steps and bringing them to a stop. “I was. As captain. But, uh… that will be Robin’s duty now.”

“What? Why?”

Gesturing towards the building in front of them, Killian replied, “Because of this.”

Emma’s head snapped towards the structure, a modest yet charming house that sat atop a small bluff overlooking the waves. With furrowed brow, she glanced back at Killian, her question knitted in the tight lines of her forehead.

“It’s the Harbour Master House,” he explained. “The current Harbour Master has no use of it, being an older, single gentleman who prefers to reside in the apartment over his office at the docks, so I negotiated for it when he offered me the position of Wharf Captain.”

“You… You took a new position? You’re leaving the prison?”

Killian gently took both her hands in his and ran his thumbs over the backs of her knuckles. “These past few weeks have made it clear to me,” he began quietly. “I don’t belong there any longer.” A heavy sigh left his chest. “The prison has been an important part of my life for so long, but now I have something of even greater importance. You and Henry. I want to share every part of my life with you both, and I cannot do that if I remain at the prison.”

“Of course you can,” she insisted, squeezing his hands. “You know I would support you no matter--”

“I know that, love,” he said, cutting her off softly. “But I also know how difficult it would be for you, visiting me at work, bringing Henry by to say hello. Especially with your old cell just across the hall from my office, which believe me, is its own brand of torture to me each day I patrol those corridors. Besides,” he murmured, turning her attention back towards the house. “Unless Liam resigns as warden, I could never hope to achieve a benefit such as this in my current position. Plus… I rather fancy the idea of working at the docks. I always did prefer the sea to the country, remember?”

“I remember.” Her quiet smile and nostalgic expression told him she too was thinking back to those midnight talks all those months ago.

Pulling her towards the front of the house, Killian continued to sell her on the idea of it being their home. “It has a lovely parlor, big enough to entertain guests, and the kitchen overlooks a small garden area with the sea just beyond.” Gesturing to the second story, he went on, “Our bedroom also faces the ocean, and across the hall is a decent sized room for Henry to move into once he’s ready to leave ours, and just next to that is a third room for when we…” Pausing, he glanced down at Emma who was adoringly staring up at him, having already ascertained who the third room might be for. “That is… if you’d want another. I would not wish to presume, and you would still be close enough to the boarding house to continue working there, should you choose to. I only--”

She cut off his words with the press of her mouth, the lifting edges of her smile brushing against his lips. “It’s perfect.” Flicking her gaze up at him, she coyly said, “Why don’t you take me inside so I can see these extra rooms for myself. Then we can begin working towards filling them.”

A wide grin broke over Killian’s face, and Emma gave a soft shriek when he picked her up into his arms. “As you wish,” he responded with a growl, carrying her over the threshold of their future. Placing her back on her feet, his arms circled her waist as he murmured, “Welcome home, Mistress Jones.” Crashing his lips to hers, he kicked the door closed behind them, all the while kissing her… with great conviction.

The End

Tagging the Curious Crew: (add to tag list)

(Please be advised that I only keep one tag list for all fic updates and new works. If at any time you wish to be removed, just shoot me an ask or a DM. No worries.) @kmomof4 @sals86 @jennjenn615 @darkcolinodonorgasm @artistic-writer @courtorderedcake @winterbaby89 @snowbellewells @heavenlyjoycastle @sunshine2632 @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @kday426 @cocohook38 @unworried-corsair @aprilqueen84 @tiganasummertree @ilovemesomekillianjones @ultraluckycatnd @wyntereyez @ultimiflos @superchocovian @qualitycoffeethings @facesiousbutton82 @theonceoverthinker @piracytheorist @shardminds @skystar87 @teamhook @itsfabianadocarmo @xarandomdreamx @queen-serena88 @donteattheappleshook @jrob64 @therooksshiningknight @karl0ta @melly326 @nadine200179 @xsajx @demisexualemmaswan @lfh1226-linda @alexa-fangirl-forever @klynn-stormz @onceratheart18 @monosalvatore16 @jonesfandomfanatic @ouatpost @spaceconveyor @natascha-ronin @zaharadessert @earanemith @dragonfireonthehorizon @strangestarlighttree @the-darkdragonfly @heratulipsia @pirateherokillian @sailtoafarawayland @captainirishstubble @uhthreeyuh @justanotherflailgirl @elizabeethan @xhookswenchx @youherotype @chinawoodfan @batana54 @fandomlovver @pcrcabcth @strangestarlighttree @captainswan21 @karlyfr13s @emmythedaydreamer @motherkatereloyshipper @jadehowlettthewolf @anmylica @deckerstarblanche @julesep3026 @teastarsandplayingcards @swancakes @bluewildcatfanatic @pirateprincessofpizza @jackieorioncat @an-overly-caffeinated-introvert @bigfunguschungus @veiled-in-moxie

#cs ff #csff #cs fic #cs au #captain swan #cs 1800s prison au #conviction #complete #words by hollye

56 notes · View notes

raybyanothername · 2 years

Note

Im obsessed with Jace x Aegon and I blame you, your fics are amazing ❤️❤️❤️ can't stop reading

For ask game, Jace x Aegon

1. What made you ship it?

2. What are your favourite things about the ship?

I am 100% blaming Ty Tennant for this. His facial expressions and the little scenes between his Aegon and Jace just made me want more. Specifically to see their relationship grow and bloom instead of being stamped out by the dance. And then Older Jace's actor (Harry Collett) had even more little facial expresions and that just drove it home! I'd already started a few fics by then though, so we can't blame him..

Once the ship set sail in my head, there was no going back and every rewatch/reread made it worse. When I first read the book I'd actually hovered close to shipping Jace/Cregan, but I didn't really buy in to any ships properly except Aemond/Helaena before the show tbh (which I still maintain is the best one for full 'canon compliant' fics, I just prefer them with others in non-canon compliant fics).

Favorite Things

#1 is all the dynamics that can be explored!

Personality Clash: Duty versus Desire, Anger versus Angst, Family versus Self.

Jace gives my power bottom energy and Aegon obviously likes to let other people run the show while looking like he's in charge.

Aegon as a proper pillow princess?? *chefs kiss*

#2 is the dragons!!

Primadonna Sunfyre and Grumbly Vermax are the funniest thing ever when you consider that they will be forced to spend So Much time together, whether they like it or not.

Also, Vermax is always referred to as a male dragon, yet supposedly delivered a clutch of eggs beneath Winterfell (so much fic potential there) and I take that as confirmation that dragons give no shits about gender.

#3 Potential - I legitimately ship things more when there's more fic potential. With these two? It's endless. Give me any trope or concept, I can make it work for these two in some fashion. I can honestly say I don't ship them with anyone else at all. I'll read fics with Baela/Jace and Helaena/Aegon, but if they're the focus I can't really buy in anymore? That's very rare for me and I think very clearly illustrates just how well these two click in my head.

#ray rambles #fanfiction #fandom #house of the dragon #hotd #aegon ii targaryen/jacaerys velaryon #aegon x jacaerys #aegon/jacaerys #aegon ii targaryen #jacaerys velaryon

23 notes · View notes

talonslockau · 6 months

Text

Fire and Ice - Chapter 15

Chapter 14 || Index || Chapter 16

"You must be joking!"

The other apprentices were staring at him in shock as they hunched over their fresh-kill. As he had promised Graypaw earlier, he was telling them all what had transpired in the training hollow, down to the last tantalizing detail.

"I could barely believe it myself." Firepaw admitted, leaning down hungrily to take a bite of his sparrow. "Of all the reasons he had for being such an ill-tempered badger, being a former kittypet was the last one I expected."

Graypaw shook his head in amazement. "No kidding. I always thought he was Darkstripe's brother."

"Really?" Pepperpaw glanced to her own brother in surprise. "He never seemed that close to Darkstripe to me." She glanced across the clearing to where Tinyfrost was eating alone. "Then again, he never seemed that close to anyone."

Graypaw shrugged. "I figured that was just how they are."

Firepaw shook his head. "I didn't get the feeling that he had any family in the Clan. It sounded like he was more like me." Seeing his mentor look up, he quickly looked down and took another bite. "He jusht sheemsh lomely."

"You're far kinder than I am, Firepaw. I wouldn't blame you a bit if you had a grudge against him, let alone empathizing with him." Graypaw glanced to his sisters, whiskers twitching. "And I'm the most laidback of all of us!"

Firepaw stared at his friend, bemused. "If you say so." He had to admit the tom was more laidback than Cinderpaw, but that was hardly a feat. "But if he was telling the truth, I'd rather get off on the right paw than deal with constant ridicule for six moons."

"That's probably a wise choice." Pepperpaw replied. "I know an apprentice is supposed to respect their mentor and all, but the way Tinyfrost has been acting so far…"

He winced. "Don't remind me."

She looked at him sympathetically. "I'm just saying. I wouldn't blame you if you left the Clan because of him alone."

"Never!" Firepaw replied fiercely, earning a chorus of purrs from the others. "Thunderclan is my home now. Besides, I couldn't leave. What would you all do with only your siblings around to tease?"

"I'm still here." Firepaw looked up to see Ravenpaw drop a mouse in front of them, the black tom towering over them until he crouched down to their level. "Spottedleaf finally released me from the healer's den."

"That's great news!" Graypaw nosed the older apprentice happily. "I bet your father's thrilled that you're back to training."

A flash of panic bolted across the tom's face. "S-something like that." He mumbled, leaning down to take a bite.

"And now it's only a matter of a moon or two before you're a warrior." Cinderpaw gushed, clearly not noticing the skinny tom's lack of enthusiasm. "Have you thought about what your warrior name might be? Maybe Ravenwing, or Ravenflight? Oh, or how about Ravenclaw, after your-"

"Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather beneath the Highrock for a Clan meeting!"

The apprentices glanced in bewilderment to each other. "What's this about?" Firepaw hissed to Graypaw quickly.

The other tom shrugged, clearly equally confused. "No idea. It's too early for Ravenpaw or Snowkit's ceremonies, and it's still a half-moon to the next Gathering…"

The apprentices trotted across camp to the edge of the quickly amassing Clan, looking up at Bluestar as she stood regally above them. Beside her stood Quickflash, watching the apprentices with a troubled gaze. Firepaw could only blink in surprise at the deputy's expression. Had something happened?

"Sandstorm scented a fox near Snakerocks this morning." Bluestar announced, the Clan hushing as she spoke. "She also found several piles of foxdung. It seems that it may have made a den within our territory; it may even have a mate."

She frowned briefly as she gazed down at the assembled cats. "Obviously, we will need to drive all foxes on our territory out as soon as possible. Mousefur, Tigerclaw, Patchpelt, and Whitestorm will be leaving immediately after sunhigh to scout out its den." Firepaw could see the cats called straighten up, clearly pleased to be chosen for such an important mission.

"However, until it is taken care of, we must ensure the safety of the Clan. There must be a minimum of two warriors on vigil at all times." There was some minor grumbling at that; no cat enjoyed sitting around guarding camp; but none would argue with the necessity of her decree. "In addition, no apprentice is allowed to leave camp without a warrior, and will not be allowed on the territory until the fox is gone."

"What!" Cinderpaw exclaimed, jumping to her paws and lashing her tail. Beside her, Pepperpaw exchanged uneasy looks with Firepaw. He had just been allowed the tiniest bit of freedom from Tinyfrost, and now the leader was taking it away?

"These measures are only temporary, and apprentices will still be allowed to travel the ravine, to the training hollow, and on border patrols." Bluestar continued, ignoring the young molly's outburst. "After all, we cannot have any delays in the training of our apprentices with Riverclan's ongoing aggression."

Tails bushed and ears flattened at the mention of Riverclan, the hostility having only built in the past half-moon. "We'll show those fish-breaths." Someone close to Firepaw muttered under their breath.

"Clan dismissed." With her piece said, Bluestar jumped off the Highrock. Quickflash unsteadily followed her, evidently not used to being above the Clan as the leader was.

"I can't believe this!" Cinderpaw growled as the apprentices made their way back across camp. "We could take on one lousy fox! Surely Dad knows that." Her tail was bushed and lashing furiously. "Why on earth should we have to be cooped up? It's not fair!"

Firepaw couldn't help but agree with her. He had been looking forward to finally getting to hunt out on the territory with the others, and now that had been ruined for him. He could only find a small measure of solace in the other apprentices being stuck in the same situation he was.

"How do you think I feel?" Ravenpaw spoke up from behind them. "My first day out of the healer's den, and now this. At least…" He trailed off.

"At least?" The ginger apprentice turned around to see that the apprentices weren't the only ones gathered at their dining area. Tinyfrost, Lionheart, and Darkstripe had followed them across camp to meet with their apprentices. "Tinyfrost!" Firepaw hesitated, unsure what to say to his mentor about everything that was happening.

The black warrior dipped his head quickly. "I'm sorry, Firepaw. I didn't know about this either until Bluestar announced it." He perked his ears in surprise at his mentor's contrite tone, not used to the warrior's newfound humility. "But I've spoken with the other mentors, and we agree this shouldn't limit your training."

Lionheart nodded his broad head at that. "Indeed. We will instead be using this as an opportunity to push all of you. As such, we have decided that we will spend the next half-moon teaching you hunting techniques and training for a hunting competition."

"A hunting competition?" Firepaw echoed, looking around to see that his fellow apprentices were eagerly sitting up and perking their ears.

Tinyfrost nodded. "Indeed. You will each be assigned a section of the territory to hunt in." He smiled at his apprentice, an expression so foreign Firepaw couldn't help but feel afraid at the sight of it. "Whichever three apprentices catch the most prey will be allowed to go to the Gathering."

"The Gathering!" Cinderpaw gasped, her eyes wide with delight. "Oh, I can't wait! I'm gonna beat all of you for sure! Mistspring's been teaching me her best bird-catching techniques." He could see that the apprentices were already sizing each other up.

"Don't be counting me out. Did you see the size of the squirrel I caught this morning?" Firepaw grinned proudly as he remembered dragging it back to camp. "It was almost as big as Dewpaw!"

"Ah, you only caught it because it mistook you for a fellow squirrel!" Cinderpaw retorted playfully. "I bet you wouldn't do nearly as well catching mice and voles."

"That's enough." Darkstripe's icy voice, not unlike Tinyfrost's, cut through their enthusiastic banter. "As the oldest and most trained, I expect my apprentice to be in first place. And don't be expecting any handicap for your shoulder; you've sat around long enough in the healer's den as it is."

Firepaw felt himself frowning as Ravenpaw ducked beneath his mentor's gaze. "He nearly died, Darkstripe." He pointed out, meeting the striped warrior's gaze with a determination that took him by surprise.

"But he didn't, did he?" The warrior met his gaze with narrow eyes before huffing dismissively and turning away. "I will see you all in the training hollow tomorrow." With that, he stalked over to Longtail, flopping beside the other warrior languidly.

The apprentices looked to the other two mentors, awaiting any further instructions. "After sunhigh, Tinyfrost, Dappleshine and myself will see all of you in the training hollow for your first lesson." Lionheart glanced to Cinderpaw with a frown. "Ah, except you, Cinderpaw. I'm afraid you're still on patrol on the Riverclan border. But Mistspring told me that she already took you out hunting this morning, so I'm sure you won't be falling behind."

"Aww, foxdung." Cinderpaw groaned. "I could have shown you all why I'm the one to beat."

Graypaw purred and nudged her affectionately. "Don't worry, dear sister. You can always show us up next time."

"Indeed." Lionheart looked on all of the apprentices fondly. "Until after sunhigh, then." With that, he padded across the clearing to where Frostfur and Goldenflower were sitting, the latter queen nosing the warrior gently as he sat down beside her.

"Good luck, you all." Tinyfrost murmured before departing back to his spot as well.

"I guess this fox thing isn't all bad." Cinderpaw admitted as they all took their spots again. "A hunting competition for who goes to the Gathering, how exciting!"

Pepperpaw nodded at her sister's words. "It sounds like a lot of fun. I wonder which of us will get to go?" She glanced over the assembled apprentices with a critical eye. "Cinderpaw's mentor is the best bird catcher in the Clan, but Ravenpaw's got the most experience. I think I'm the one that's caught the most prey out of the four of us, though…"

Graypaw chuffed. "Hey, don't be counting me or Firepaw out!" He grinned at the other tom cheerfully . "I'd bet elder duty you're the one that will secretly beat us all."

"Thanks, Graypaw." The ginger tom purred gratefully to his friend. "I don't know, though. Dewpaw might be the one to beat. She's the stealthiest of all of us." He looked at the smallest of the apprentices, who seemed caught off guard with the compliment.

"That's true." Pepperpaw laid her tail on Dewpaw's gently. "I'm sorry, sis. I should know better than anyone not to underestimate you."

The little molly dipped her head bashfully. "We'll just have to wait and see." She murmured quickly.

"You always say stuff like that, Dewpaw." Cinderpaw groaned. "C'mon, live a little! I'll do elder duty for a whole moon if you tell me right now which three of us are going to the Gathering."

For a moment, Firepaw thought that the smallest sister would clam up entirely. Instead, she stubbornly lifted her chin and looked the dark gray molly dead in the eyes. "We'll just have to wait and see." She replied, each word hanging in the air between them.

Cinderpaw groaned and rolled her eyes, before catching sight of something across camp. "It looks like the patrol is going. Don't think I'll be forgetting about this, Dewpaw. I'll get you to predict something one of these days." She jabbed a paw into her sister's shoulder before trotting across camp, where Bluestar, Mistspring and Willowbranch were already waiting.

"That means we should get going, too." Pepperpaw yawned, dropping into a low stretch before shaking out her pelt. "We wouldn't want to keep our mentors waiting. Even if Tinyfrost is promising to change his stripes."

Firepaw blinked in confusion. "But he doesn't have any stripes."

The spotted molly stared back at him before breaking into a grin. "You're hopeless, Firepaw." She purred amusedly at him. "It's just an old queen's saying. But nevermind that, let's just get to the training hollow."

She didn't give him a chance to respond before trotting off across camp. He glanced at Graypaw, who only shrugged at him before following his sister, the other apprentices quickly doing the same.

He sighed and shook out his own pelt before following them, allowing excitement to lighten his paws as they headed for the training hollow. Even if they were stuck in this little section of the territory, Lionheart was right; they should all make the most of it. He certainly wasn't going to let the others win easily; no, he would be giving them all a run for their mice. He would make sure this training session proved that.

2 notes · View notes