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slyandthefamilybook · 1 month

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okay because I'm seeing some misinfo, here's the story on the Key Bridge collapse

What was the Key Bridge?

The Francis Scott Key Bridge (also called the Key Bridge, the Beltway Bridge, and the Outer Harbor Crossing) was steel-arch continuous-through-truss bridge spanning the Patapsco River south of the Baltimore Harbor. The bridge took 5 years to build and cost an estimated $145 million ($735 million in today's dollars). The full bridge project (including approaches) was 10.9 miles long, but the stretch over the Patapsco was 1.6 miles long and 4 lanes wide, and comprised a length of I-695, the Baltimore Beltway. It traveled between Hawkins Point and Dundalk, and in addition to the I-895 Harbor Tunnel was the primary way for Marylanders to cross from the Eastern Shore to the West. The bridge carried an estimated 11.5 million vehicles per year. There is a lane for ships to pass under the Key Bridge with enough clearance.

Was it structurally sound?

The bridge received its latest inspection in 2022 and received a 6/9 score, which is considered "fair" by federal standards. There was a concern with one of its columns, which was downgraded from a health index of 77.8 to 65.9, but it is not clear yet if this was one of the columns struck by the ship. In 1980 the bridge was struck by a different cargo ship which destroyed a concrete support structure, but the bridge itself was unharmed. There is as of yet no evidence that the bridge collapsed because of poor condition. Experts say the lesson to be learned is about the size and weight of modern cargo ships, and that the bridge was not to blame. Engineers have noted, however, that the bridge's piers lacked protective devices such as fenders.

What was the ship?

The MV Dali is a container ship flying the Singapore flag. It is owned by Grace Ocean Private Ltd. and operated by Synergy Marine Group Ltd. The ship is currently being chartered by Maersk, a Dutch shipping company. It was built in 2015 by Hyundai. The ship is 980 feet long and 157 feet wide. The ship's gross tonnage (its internal volume) is 95,128 tons (190,256,000 pounds). Its deadweight (the weight of cargo it can carry) is 116,851 tons (233,702,000 pounds). The ship was carrying 3,000 containers. The engine is a MAN-B&W 9S90ME putting out 41,480 kilowatts (55,626 horsepower).

Over its lifetime the Dali has been inspected 27 times, and only 2 faults were ever found. On June 27, 2023 the Dali was held in port in Chile due to an issue with the propulsion system. According to an inspector the pressure gauges on the heating system were "unreadable". The fault was fixed before the ship left port.

The Dali is crewed by 22 Indian nationals including 2 maritime pilots.

What happened?

The Dali arrived at the Port of Baltimore on March 23, 2024. At 12:44 AM on March 26, 2024 the Dali left port, beginning its journey to Colombo, Sri Lanka. At 01:26 AM the ship suffered a "complete blackout" and began to drift out of the shipping lane. It is not yet known what caused the electrical failure. The backup generator did not power the propulsion system. At around 01:26 AM the crew of the Dali sent a mayday distress call to the Maryland Department of Transportation (MDOT) informing them of the loss of power and that a collision with the Key Bridge was possible. The anchors were dropped as an emergency measure to attempt to slow or stop the vessel. At the request of one of the pilots traffic flow over the bridge was immediately halted. Black smoke was seen coming from the Dali, which experts believe was the result of the crew managing to restart the power system to regain some maneuvering capability.

At 01:28 AM the Dali, traveling at 8 knots (considered to be a fast speed) collided with a support strut beneath the Key Bridge's metal truss at the southwest end of the bridge. A Baltimore resident said he heard the collision and that it "felt like an earthquake". Emergency teams began receiving 911 calls at 01:30 AM, and the Baltimore Police Department were alerted at 01:35 AM. One of the officers present radioed that he was going to go onto the bridge to alert the construction crew as soon as a second officer arrived, but the bridge collapsed seconds later.

What was the damage?

The Key Bridge has completely collapsed. The metal truss relies on structural tension from the bridge itself to maintain its rigidity. As soon as one of the support columns was destroyed, the rest of the bridge quickly followed.

The damage to the Dali is reported as minimal. The ship was impaled by the bridge's structure above the waterline, but has maintained watertight integrity. The crew has not reported any water contamination from its 1.8 million gallons of marine fuel. 13 containers carrying potentially hazardous material were damaged, and are being inspected by a team of Coast Guard divers. At least 5 vehicles including 3 passenger cars and a cement mixer were detected underwater, but authorities do not believe they were occupied

Who was hurt?

The crew of the Dali reports no casualties, except one crewmember who was hospitalized for minor injuries. There was a crew of 8 construction workers on the Key Bridge filling in potholes. 2 were immediately pulled from the water by rescue crews, with 1 being rushed to emergency care and the other reporting minor injuries and refusing treatment. The hospitalized worker has since been discharged. 1 of those rescued was Mexican. The remaining 6 remain missing. Of those 6, 2 have been identified:

Miguel Luna from El Salvador

Maynor Yassir Suazo Sandoval from Honduras

Of the remaining 4, 2 are Guatemalan nationals. Neither have been identified, but the Guatemalan Foreign Affairs Ministry has stated that they were a 26-year-old from San Luis, Petén, and a 35-year-old from Camotán, Chiquimula. The other 2 are presumed to be Mexican.

Rescue Efforts

The Coast Guard was immediately deployed for search-and-rescue operations. Military Blackhawk helicopters were seen over the river. Rescue efforts were ended at 07:30 PM on March 26, 2024 due to darkness, fog, and cold temperatures. Rear Admiral Shannon Gilreath said "Based on the length of time that we've gone in the search, the extensive search efforts that we put into it, the water temperature -- at this point, we do not believe that we're going to find any of these individuals still alive". Recovery operations resumed at 07:30 AM on March 27, 2024 with all 6 workers presumed dead.

No divers have yet entered the water underneath the bridge. Supervisory Special Agent Brian Hudson of the FBI's Underwater Search and Evidence Response Team said "the debris field is pretty sizable and I know that’s why they’re hesitant to send divers down because some of the debris is still shifting, the heavy weight of the rocks". The FBI has deployed Remotely Operated Vehicles (ROVs) equipped with cameras and SONAR.

Aftermath

At 05:08 AM on March 26, 2024 Transportation Secretary Pete Buttegiege posted on X (formerly Twitter):

"I’ve spoken with Gov. Moore and Mayor Scott to offer USDOT’s support following the vessel strike and collapse of the Francis Scott Key bridge. Rescue efforts remain underway and drivers in the Baltimore area should follow local responder guidance on detours and response."

At 07:30 AM on March 27, 2024 President of the Maryland State Senate Bill Ferguson posted on X (formerly Twitter):

"Over 15,000 in the Balt region rely on daily operations at Port of Baltimore to put food on the table. Today, with Del. @LukeClippinger and colleagues representing Port, we are drafting an emergency bill to provide for income replacement for workers impacted by this travesty."

At around 09:40 AM on March 26, 2024 Maryland Governor Wes Moore and Baltimore Mayor Brandon Scott declared a State of Emergency to take effect at 10:30 AM March 26, 2024, and to last 30 days. Baltimore's Emergency Operations Plan was put into effect.

More than 1,000 personnel from the US Army Corps of Engineers (USACE) have been deployed to assist with clearing the debris and rebuilding efforts. President Joe Biden has pledged that the federal government will pay for the entire reconstruction of the bridge.

Jennifer Homendy, the chair of the National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) has recovered the Dali's data recorder, and will be inspecting both the Key Bridge and the Dali to determine the cause of the crash and the collapse. She says the investigation could take up to 2 years to complete.

Was it intentional?

According to William DelBagno, head of the FBI's Baltimore field office: "There is no specific or credible information to suggest there are ties to terrorism in this incident".

Secretary of Homeland Security Alejandro Mayorkas said: "There are no indications this was an intentional act".

At least 3 people have been killed in accidents related to ships operated by Synergy in the past 6 years. In 2018 a person on board a Synergy ship in Australia was killed in an accident relating to the vessel's personnel elevator. In 2019 an officer aboard a Synergy vessel in Singapore fell overboard while performing maintenance. In 2023 at least one sailor was killed when a Synergy ship collided with a dredging ship in the Philippines. In the first two cases safety inspectors noted that proper safety procedures had not been adhered to.

Sources

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

#atlas entry #this is still a developing story but all the information herein is accurate and current at time of publishing #baltimore #baltimore bridge collapse #francis scott key bridge #key bridge #I spent an hour collating all this info please give it a reblog

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swordsmans · 2 months

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i just really, really love the idea of zoro having no real "survival skills" because he had a much more traditional (if atypical) childhood/youth than most of the crew. bandit heritage aside, he was raised in a tight-knit and relatively peaceful community with (at best) agricultural outskirts. he doesn't leave until he's much older, at which point he becomes a bounty hunter as a way to make money (to pay for food, shelter, etc. presumably in villages, towns, and cities). we know from the non-canon johnny and yosaku backstories that he "hunted" for bounties in cities/towns, at least partially.

meanwhile luffy has been running around the wilderness since he was like seven years old, securing his own food, building fire and shelter, and just generally toughening up/learning how to live in nature. we know he had a pretty extensive knowledge of bugs and how to catch them, so with that + his childhood i don't think it's a stretch to assume he also has an understanding of edible plants and non-monstrous wildlife (even if its not all applicable outside the East Blue). he's survived on his own in the wilderness for years at a time at least twice in canon.

i think it's fun to think of them having... some sort of "zoro is lost in more ways than one" kinda vibe early on in their journey, especially since they're constantly broke pre-timeskip and we know that at least by little garden the crew has started hunting and foraging to supplement their stores. you could absolutely rope the rest of the east blue grew into this, but zoro is still sort of the outlier with his background.

i dunno. maybe i just like the image of luffy trying to teach zoro how to hunt or fish and both of them just having the dumbest time with it. luffy would be really earnest but impatient--and zoro would be stubborn about admitting he doesn't know shit but would still listen and absorb anyway.

luffy having no clue how to start small and work up to new skills, so they end up going after massive wild boars or something as a first or second lesson and zoro just rolls with it because sure, yeah, thats normal. what the hell does he know? (and also hes fucking. zoro. so.)

or luffy teaching zoro to fish normally but also like a bear fishes (standing knee-deep in the water and catching fish with his bare hands) because it looks more fun that way and he cant. and zoro just fucking up soooo bad but getting really competitive anyway, even though luffy is just, like, sitting on a nearby rock yelling (frankly terrible) directions at him or something. zoro catches nothing and luffy tells him he looks stupid getting angry at the river so of course zoro is going to master fucking. bare-handed fishing because the man's got one braincell and its 99% stubborn pride.

he fucking sucks at starting a fire, wouldnt even consider building proper shelter, and in general would not make it 0.2 seconds outside a populated environment without his captain--a guy raised by the jungle and ace, who was basically a wild animal himself.

idk. survival-competent luffy is very near and dear to my heart.

#not really a country/city dynamic because its like... not that. but luffy is basically the east blue les stroud and thats so funny to me #a bear grylls kinda guy #which is to say nothing of their differences in formal education #dunno if ill write another fic about it but its like... the other side of math/bilingual zoro headcanons to me #i think about this more often than i should tbh #zolu #gyro.txt

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sunderwight · 5 months

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contemplating an SVSSS fic where Airplane transmigrates into Tianlang Jun instead of Shang Qinghua.

he wakes up before Tianlang Jun was about to walk into the HH Palace Master's plot, but too late to really do much about Su Xiyan's situation or the frame job. of course, being Airplane, he doesn't go face down the sects and get sealed under a mountain. but he also doesn't know what to do about the whole situation with Luo Binghe.

he was too vague in his outline and especially in his actual story. finding Xiyan or possibly some random washer woman who lives along the Luo river is a needle in a haystack situation, and he didn't ask for any of this to happen to him, so he just ends up leaving it alone. Tianlang Jun goes back to the demon realms with his confused (but relieved) nephew, and works on consolidating his power there and on thwarting the attempted incursions of Huan Hua Palace.

HHP has egg on their face because they riled up the other sects and got them into this alliance/ambush plot and then the heavenly demon they were supposed to fight didn't even show up. hasn't even been seen in the human world since. while HHP tries to spin it as them being so strong and formidable that they scared him off, the other sects feel like they're just blowing hot air and trying to take credit for something that never even happened. was that head disciple of theirs even involved with a demon at all? suspicious how she just disappeared, too. maybe it's a cover-up. no one's particularly impressed or convinced after the fact that HHP's claims are on the level.

which at least means that there's no concerted effort to wage a war or anything. Tianlang Jun meets a young Mobei Jun and Airplane decides to expend a lot of time and energy in helping the young prince consolidate his own power, so that's a whole thing. there's no system so Airplane's not obliged to preserve the plot, but he still knows it's out there and he's gotta skirt the line between giving MBJ absolute power on a silver platter and not setting MBJ up to be killed by the protagonist one day.

there are benefits and problems to TLJ mostly leaving Luo Binghe's whole journey untouched. on the one hand, he anticipates that everything around Luo Binghe will continue just like in the novel, so that's easy to predict. but on the other hand, that means he's in for some trouble when the blackened protagonist emerges all super-powered and unbeatable from the abyss and starts taking revenge on everyone who wronged him (a category which potentially includes the deadbeat dad who abandoned him for years).

so as the time of the immortal alliance conference approaches, Tianlang Jun starts to think that he needs to get ahead of this.

the most logical solution is to prevent Luo Binghe becoming quite as OP of a protagonist as he'd been the first time. since TLJ is plenty powerful himself (one of the things Airplane enjoys! as well as being very rich!) LBH really does need every edge he could possibly get to be a threat to him. so, why let him gain those edges?

this leads to TLJ's brilliant plan: just don't let Luo Binghe get thrown into the Endless Abyss! no blackening, no all-powerful weapon, no gauntlet of monsters to hone his skills, just a run-of-the-mill heavenly demon hybrid who could never in a million years take his old man in a fight!

TLJ decides he can two-birds-with-one-stone this situation by capturing Shen Qingqiu. then, one day if LBH does still make it to his doorstep, he can present him with his hated scum villain as a peace offering. like well son I know I abandoned you to suffer on your own, but plausibly I didn't even know you existed, so here, have your abuser to dismember in cathartic violence as you please! become a filial son and this old man will help fund whatever massive harems you want to build!

genius!

so, shortly before the immortal alliance conference is set to take place, TLJ goes and steals himself a peak lord.

Shen Qingqiu is... kind of different from what he expected? but oh well, it's been years since he wrote the novel and lots of characters have turned out somewhat different in person from how they were on the page, and the guy was always a mess of contradictions anyway. TLJ hands him over to his servants with strict instructions to keep him locked up, but not to harm or kill him (revenge is reserved for the protagonist, after all!)

Zhuzhi Lang, who witnessed the last debacle where his uncle took a sudden keen interest in a cold but beautiful human cultivator, makes entirely the wrong assumption (as do a lot of the palace staff) and figures that TLJ has just become more pragmatic about pursuing his lovers. Shen Qingqiu is given appropriate chambers (and restrictions) and word soon spreads that the Demon Emperor has captured a human cultivator to serve as his concubine.

so, this version of SQQ has actually been Shen Yuan since Luo Binghe joined the sect (and also doesn't have a system and thus had zero plans of throwing LBH into the abyss), and he is desperately trying to figure out what kind of changes he has unwittingly invoked here that Luo Binghe's father should be still alive, and free, and also kidnapping him to be his goddamn concubine?! that has to be a misunderstanding, right?!

Mobei Jun is mad. and jealous. and mad. but a concubine isn't an empress, so that job posting is still available, right? it better be, he has been waiting more than a decade for the official proposal!

TLJ meanwhile decides he's going to go secretly watch the immortal alliance conference just to make sure that the universe doesn't contrive to drop LBH into the abyss anyway, but weirdly enough, Luo Binghe isn't even there. listening to rumors, he gathers that uh... some stuff has changed? like Luo Binghe is head disciple of Qing Jing Peak? and apparently went crazy when Shen Qingqiu disappeared? except that some people think they might have eloped???

maybe he shouldn't get his rumors from Xian Shu disciples, those girls remind him of rpf conspiracy theory shippers from his old life. they're probably just way off base! hahaha... ha...?

well at least TLJ did a pretty good job of covering his tracks, so there's no reason for anyone to suspect that he captured Shen Qingqiu. or there shouldn't be, until he goes back home to find that every single demon seems to believe that Shen Qingqiu has been taken by him to be his lover. where did anyone even get that idea?! TLJ has been dutifully pining in his unrequited and inappropriate love for the young Mobei Jun for years now! whenever anyone asks he insists he's still mourning Su Xiyan! it's been a whole thing!

but oh shit, truth aside, there's no way those kinds of rumors have remained strictly contained to demon ears. both demons and cultivators have their spies after all, and even if they didn't, news moves along the borders.

sure enough, TLJ barely has time to try and dismantle this misunderstanding before a young Luo Binghe arrives on his doorstep, along with Yue Qingyuan and the very-much-still-alive lord of Bai Zhan peak, for some reason, all of them extremely pissed off at him!

#svsss #moshang #bingqiu #long post #scum villain's self saving system #i suppose frantic backpedaling and explanations would ensue #also potentially mobei jun and shen qingqiu having to fight a ceremonial battle in skimpy costumes #just 'cause

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humanpurposes · 7 months

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De Facto

She can't afford to fantasize over Aemond Targaryen, he's her boss and the Prime Minister... but stopping is easier said than done // Main Masterlist

PM!Aemond x unnamed female character

Warnings: 18+, smut, mentions of SA, questionable power dynamics, politics (putting my degree to good use), unnecessary world building

Words: 7700

A/n: Thanks for the inspo @ewanmitchellcrumbs, sorry it's not Dishy Rishi tho :(

Throughout the whole train journey into Central King’s Landing, she’s sure she’s dreaming. Her body feels strangely light, her hands are restless and her heart is beating steadily in her chest.

She flows effortlessly with the stream of commuters, along the platform, through the station’s glass atrium, then left towards Conquest Street. She knows her way around this part of the city already, and though she’s never been inside, she’s walked past Hightower House countless times.

This time is different. Now she walks up to the iron gates, pressing her thumbnail into her index finger, because the armed guards are making her nervous.

She tells them her name and one of them mutters into a radio.

Her eyes run along the gold crest that marks the gate, a shield divided into seven, a sun for Dorne, a rose for The Reach, a stag for The Stormlands, a Trout for The Riverlands, a Falcon for The Vale, a Kraken for The Iron Islands, a wolf for The North, and at its heart is the symbol that unites them, the three headed dragon (although strictly speaking, Westeros abolished its monarchy centuries ago).

Suddenly one of the guards catches her attention. He opens the gate for her, and says she’ll be given a security pass and instructions to use the staff entrance following her official induction.

Hightower House stands proudly before her, an ornate facade of balustrades and columns, order and symmetry, an obvious juxtaposition of the medieval majesty of the Red Keep, just down the road.

It all feels very daunting, but the last five years have led her to this moment, the entirety of her adult life. She keeps telling herself that she deserves to be here, after all, she was the one who made it through the first round of applications, who made it to the shortlist and the final interviews, and she was the only one of hundreds of applicants who received the phone call, offering her a position as a personal advisor to the Prime Minister.

The contract only lasts two years, but it is the most effective stepping stone into a career in politics that she could ever ask for.

The entire morning is spent working out formalities. First she meets the deputy chief of staff, a handsome man named Criston Cole, who she’ll directly report to. He shows her through mountains of paperwork and gives her a brief overview of her role. Essentially, she is to assist the Prime Minister on whatever he deems necessary, policy aims, speeches, media coverage, political rhetoric, public image.

“You’re a glorified assistant,” Cole says as she reads and signs page after page of her employment contract, “but with a salary to reflect it, so don’t feel discouraged. There will be some admin work which can get tedious, but you’ve been selected for your expertise and your passion for the party.”

That’s the crucial part of the job. Everything she does will be to benefit Mr Targayren as head of the Green Party, still running off the high of their victory at the last general election, just under a year ago.

She signs her last signature triumphantly, despite the ache in her wrist, and hands the pen back to Cole with a smile. “All done?” she asks hopefully.

Cole grimaces sympathetically. “Not quite.”

There are four people to meet before she’s officially in. She takes a deep breath to soothe herself. It’s all just more formalities, which she can understand, given the weight of this job.

The first is the Prime Minister's private secretary, a glamorous woman with black hair and piercing green eyes, named Alys Rivers. She greets her warmly, having already spoken over the phone with her several times. She also knows her CV off by heart. It’s a little strange having someone know almost everything about her education and employment history when her face is unfamiliar.

The next is a young woman named Maris, the other of Mr Targaryen’s personal advisors. She has dark hair and a look of determination in her grey eyes. She explains that there are always two personal advisors, but hired on alternating years. She was hired at the start of Mr Targaryen’s premiership, and has a year left of her contract.

There are a thousand questions she wants to ask Maris, but before she can even scratch the surface, Cole’s checking his watch and dragging her off to another office.

Otto Hightower is the chief of staff. He’s thin and wiry, but incredibly intimidating. He has tired, sunken eyes that seem to glare right through her, and a passive but severe expression on his face, as though he’s scrutinising, having already decided she’s a waste of his time.

It’s not a great feeling, being looked at like that by a man she’s idolised for years. She knows his career timeline by heart. He earned his bachelors in Politics and Economics from Oldtown, before doing a masters in International Relations at King’s Landing, where he met and befriended Viserys Targaryen. He worked his way to becoming an MP and soon into Viserys’ cabinet when be became Prime Minister.

But things changed when Otto’s daughter married Viserys. No one really knows the whole truth, but Otto resigned from the Black Party, and took over from his own brother as leader of the opposition.

Now he works in the background, the mastermind behind his grandson’s remarkable successes.

Cole explains that Mr Hightower had the final say in the shortlist and determining which applicant would be given the final job offer.

“You had an impressive application,” he says, briefly looking up from a document. “I’m sure you’ll do well with us.”

“Thank you, Mr Hightower,” she says through the slight tremble in her jaw.

Other than that, the interaction is brief, and soon Cole is ushering her out of the room, back to Alys’ office, as richly decorated as the rest of the building. Maris is sitting at another desk, typing away furiously on a laptop.

“Tea? Coffee? Water?” Cole offers her, gesturing for her to take a seat on a green leather sofa.

“Water would be lovely,” she says.

“Maris,” he calls.

She glares up from her laptop. “That’s not my job.”

“No, but it’s courtesy,” he says.

Alys’ slight smirk doesn’t escape her attention.

Maris purses her lips, but she closes her laptop, pointedly slams her hands against the arms of her chair, and marches out of the room, her shiny black heels clicking against the dark wood floor.

“She’s nice really,” Cole says, “just a bit… direct at times.”

“Direct,” Alys groans to herself.

She feels her brow flicker into a frown but stops herself.

“She’s good at her job,” Criston says like he might say something else, but he doesn’t.

When Maris returns, she seems a little less on edge.

She takes the glass of water with a cautious hand, Maris’ eyes lingering on her maroon painted nails.

“I like your top,” Maris says.

She glances down. It’s nothing special, black and long-sleeved, to go with her long blue and green patterned skirt.

“Thank you,” she says.

Maris hums to herself before she goes back to her desk.

“Do you often work in here?” she asks.

Maris shrugs. “It depends.” She doesn’t care to explain further.

Alys is smirking again.

“Mr Targaryen was in a meeting with the cabinet this morning,” Cole says, then checks his watch. “He has a few phone calls to make, but he should be ready to see you at about 4pm. Maris?”

“Yes?”

“Will you show her in around then?”

“Yeah,” she says, flatly, “of course.”

Cole shakes her hand before he leaves. “Alys will show you out when you leave. I’ll see you on Monday morning.”

She continues to wait on the sofa, restless in the silence that follows once the door has shut. Alys and Maris are both typing, their nails clicking against their keyboards. She starts to bounce her leg and stops herself.

Her mind is racing. The day seems to have gone well so far, but what if she meets Mr Targaryen and it all falls apart? What if he decides he doesn’t like her and sends her packing?

She’s too lost in her own head to notice the flash of Alys’ emerald green dress as she stands in front of her. That is, until she’s leaning down and waving a bar of chocolate in front of her. “Get a bit of sugar in you,” she says, “and breathe slowly.”

She smiles as she takes the bar and places a single cube on her tongue. She lets it melt, savouring the sweetness and the slight bitterness of its taste.

You can do this, she thinks to herself with every inhale. And then she exhales. You are here for a reason.

The phone on Alys’ desk rings. She checks her own phone. It’s exactly 3:59.

“Yes, sir, Maris will show her in now.”

Aemond Targaryen is on the other end of the line. Her heart drops at the thought.

As the second son of Viserys, it seems like he was always destined for the family business. He differs from his father and grandfather in that he did Politics and Philosophy at Sunspear, before going on to do his masters in History at Oldtown, and then another masters in International Relations at King’s Landing. By all accounts, he is fiercely intelligent, mature beyond his years, with the right balance of intimidating and charismatic to command the support he needed to get in as MP for Rosby, then as party leader.

In fact, it had been his first campaign that inspired her to apply for a degree in politics in the first place. She loved how he spoke, how he managed to strike a balance between grace and passion, and how deeply he cared for his policies. He was poised and perfect, but driven by a genuine want for improvement.

He perfected his craft within a matter of years. With the mess Rhaenyra Targaryen had made of the country, it was all too easy for him to win a majority with a few winning speeches, a hand running through his silver hair, that lazy half-smirk and the intense look in his eyes that just made you want to fall at his feet. And people do. The press adore him, his party worships him, foreign dignitaries often remark on his charm but also his capabilities as a negotiator and a leader.

Maris leads her out of the office, along a quiet corridor. She stops outside a door with gold lettering: Office of A. Targaryen, Prime Minister

Seeing it in front of her, strangely, seems to subdue her nerves. Her chest flutters, but the anxiety is more manageable than before.

Maris taps her knuckles against the door three times.

From the other side of the door she hears a gentle but chilling voice. “Enter.”

She follows Maris inside.

He’s perched against his desk, his long, silver hair falling around his shoulders as he looks over a few pieces of paper. He wears a white shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, black slacks and brown leather shoes.

He looks up slowly, the light of the early Autumn evening beaming through the windows, over the sharp features of his face, his cheeks, his nose, his jaw, his neck.

His eyes find hers, unashamed and curious.

Suddenly she can feel her heart in her throat.

Maris introduces her. “I’m sure Alys already debriefed you, but she’s here for her induction. Cole said you wanted to meet her as a formality and–”

It feels awfully like she’s talking for the sake of it.

“That will be all, Maris,” Mr Targaryen says softly. She can’t help but watch the way his lips move when he speaks.

“Oh, are you sure, sir?” she asks. Her face is twisted into a slight frown but her eyes are wide. “I just thought, for her sake, it might be useful if I’m here to explain everything.”

“I’m sure, thank you.”

She stands with her hands clasped in front of her skirt as she listens to Maris’ footsteps move towards the door. It opens and closes, and now all she can hear are her own breaths, gently flowing through her nose.

She doesn’t know where to look. At the patterned carpet on the floor? No, it would be rude of her to hang her head. At the portraits that line the wall? At the bookshelves? At the desk? No, that all seems too intrusive. Out the window? No, that might seem like she’s not paying attention.

So her eyes settle on him.

He hasn’t moved from his position, but he’s placed the paper on the desk behind him, leaning with his palms at the edge. His eyes glance over her once, up and down.

Fuck, he’s so much better looking in person.

Then he stands to his full height, and picks up a clipboard from the desk. He flicks through a few of the pages and hums softly to himself.

“You had an impressive application,” he says.

She swallows through the slightly dry feeling in her throat. “Thank you, sir.”

“And an excellently written cover letter.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You did your masters in Comparative Politics at Sunspear. Oberyen Martell is still head of faculty there, isn’t he?”

“Yes, sir. He taught one of my modules, Security Studies.”

“He’s an interesting character,” he muses, smiling to himself. “He was my supervisor for my undergrad dissertation.”

She already knew that. Dr Martell loved to go on about his star student. She would too if she taught the future Prime Minister.

He flicks to another page. She watches as his eyes skim over the words in front of him. “And you came with glowing reviews from Tyland Lannister.”

She’s not sure how she’s supposed to respond to that– it makes her sound more like a product than a person– so she just smiles, as delicately as she can, making sure not to squint her eyes too much.

She had spent the last year as Mr Lannister’s Parliamentary Assistant, at his office in the Red Keep, starting just as he had been appointed as Foreign Secretary.

“How was he as a boss?” Mr Targayren asks.

Straightforward, she thinks. He took his job seriously and was decidedly not a fan of smalltalk. His office often worked in silence, and even when he was stressed he was efficient.

“No complaints,” she says.

“I’m sure you were all kept busy, cleaning up Corlys Velaryon’s mess after the Stepstones.”

A minor military excursion to defend a few key trading routes, or at least that’s how it had started. Within a matter of months the Stepstones had spiralled beyond control, costing Corlys Velaryon his seat and the Blacks their majority in Parliament.

“If I remember right, it was Daemon Targaryen pushing that particular policy,” she says.

The corner of his mouth curls upward. It could be a smile but she’s not entirely sure.

“Sir,” she adds, hoping to soften the blow of her unintentional insult; what idiot tries to correct the Prime Minister on their first day on the job? She does, clearly.

He doesn’t seem irritated or angry, more amused. A cryptic “hmm” sounds in his throat as he flicks back to the first document. “And before that you were a campaign manager for the party, yes?”

“Yes,” she says brightly, grateful for the change of subject. “I was working in the Stormlands in the lead up to the general election.” The region was formerly a Black stronghold, but turned Green thanks in part to her efforts.

“Excellent work,” he says.

The smooth, seductive tone of his voice seems to come so naturally to him. She bites her tongue at the image it prompts in her head, of his lips brushing over her ear, his hands resting on her waist, she can almost feel it–

No. That’s wrong. So wrong.

Fantasising about the Prime Minister of Westeros is not a habit she can afford to keep up, not when she’s supposed to be working with him in such close proximity.

But that’s easier said than done.

Cole enters his office, bright and early on Monday morning, before the rest of Hightower House is awake.

Aemond’s routine is the same every day. Up at 5am, run a few laps of the expansive gardens or spend an hour going through his meticulously planned gym routine. He showers, shaves, applies his skincare and haircare products, dabs some perfume on his wrists, dresses, and takes breakfast and a black coffee in his office. By 7:30am he’s ready to work.

He needs the routines and the outlets. They help keep him sane.

He’d seen how this position twisted his father into a tired, irritable and irrational man, how it got to Rhaenyra’s head until she became a liability to herself. He won’t be like them. He has a reputation to uphold, a legacy to claim.

Cole places a folder on his desk. “The background check you ordered, sir.”

He thanks him, quietly and sincerely, and waits until he’s left the room to open the folder.

His new personal advisor intrigues him. He’d made the request for the background check as soon as their meeting had ended on Friday.

She has no criminal record, which is unsurprising, that definitely would have come up sooner if she had one.

He browses through her education history, a star student at Storm’s End Grammar School, a bachelor’s in history from Rainwood, a masters from Suspear, where she was head of Debate Soc and Amnesty International, while working various internships and retail jobs in between.

The next page is full of articles from student publications, The Importance of Integrity in Politics for the Rainwood Student Journal, Sovereignty in the Stepstones for Red Sun Rising. He reads through them both. Her writing is immaculate, concise and convincing.

The final page is more personal, social media profiles. It’s nothing scandalous, but she clearly has a certain image she wants to project. Her Instagram is full of art and history museums, coffee shops and preppy outfits. She has a few pictures on her LinkedIn of her at the Green Party conference last year, pictured with a group of girls her age and a caption that talks about the importance of representation in politics, with links to various charities and initiatives. In the photo she’s wearing a white silk shirt, open just enough to show off a dainty gold necklace and a hint of the swell of her chest.

She seems perfect. Too perfect for his own good.

The first months go smoothly enough.

Maris is a practical person. She’s good with numbers, good for bouncing off ideas for economic policies and analysing data for him, even if she is a little overbearing at times.

But she fills the gaps perfectly. He secretly looks forward to their meetings and debriefings, when he asks her to write or edit speeches for him, or run through questions with him before a press conference. Politics is never easy, but she has a remarkable talent for keeping a level head. He likes that she’s always calm and composed. He likes her soft, reassuring smiles and the sharp look in her eyes.

They just click. She’s always switched on, always knows the right things to say and do, always knows what he needs.

Every moment they are alone feels monumental; the settled quiet of his office when she first walks in and takes a seat on the other side of his desk; when they make an exchange, debriefing papers for an empty coffee cup, and their fingers will brush over each other; when he stands over her shoulder to read the document she’s working on, close enough to smell her perfume and feel a heat simmering under his skin. It’s starting to become unbearable, and yet he craves that feeling.

And then, one morning, he gets a phone call from the Crownlands Messenger. They’re about to publish a story. His brother has been accused of inappropriate conduct by no less than three women.

Fucking Aegon.

The entire country is in an uproar. How can anyone trust their Parliamentary representatives when they do shit like this? Is Aegon an outlier or is this just scratching the surface? What will his punishment be? What else are the Greens hiding?

There are hundreds of emergency meetings with his grandfather, tense phone calls, bearating headlines, and onslaughts of outrage online. There’s no question about it, Aegon has to resign as an MP, but the damage is done. The polls are turning Black instead of Green. People don’t trust the ruling party, or its leader.

It’s late. Aemond paces his office while a headache pulses in his head. He’s long ditched the coffee for whisky, swirling it about in his glass. He sent Maris home hours ago. He doesn’t have the patience for anyone at the moment. Except for the woman leaning against his desk, flicking through news articles and the pages of notes she’s prepared for him.

Tomorrow is PMQs. No doubt there’s only one topic the Blacks will be asking about. He can already see Rhaenyra and Daemon’s smug faces, the delight they’ll take in watching him fall apart. There’s just no way he’s getting out of this easily.

He feels so restless. His hands are trembling and his lips won’t seem to stop moving, so he places himself against the wall, mindlessly tapping his fingers against his glass as he takes another generous sip.

From the desk he hears a heavy sigh that hums slightly in her throat. “Is there anything else you want to go over, sir?” she asks.

“No, I think we’ve exhausted the hypotheticals,” he says, running his free hand through his hair. He resists the urge to pull at the roots, to take his frustration out on something. “It’s just– fuck’s sake, I’ve been saying Aegon’s a liability for years. But no, Otto always wanted to keep pushing for him. Said it was good for the family’s image.”

She places her phone and the document behind her, and takes a few steps towards him.

He glances down at her, at the way the low light of the lamps and the fireplace glows against her skin, the contented sort of look in her eyes.

Her eyes flicker down at his now empty glass. “Refill, sir?” Her lips stay slightly parted once she stops speaking.

Then he realises he’s staring.

“No, thank you,” he mutters, tapping his finger against the glass. “I should probably stop now.”

She takes the glass from him with her middle finger and thumb, avoiding touching his hand before she takes it away. Maybe it’s the alcohol getting to his head but his heart sinks at the lack of contact.

What is he doing? It must be after 9pm now and he’s still keeping her here without a real reason.

She’s standing by the drinks cabinet, carefully placing the crystal bottle of whisky away and setting the empty glass out for housekeeping to clean up in the morning.

Instead of thinking about her, the way her hair looks, the way her skirt hugs her waist and the curve of her backside and thighs, he tries to think about how much he hates Aegon. This only makes him more agitated.

He closes his eyes and throws his head against the wall. His heart is racing and there’s a hollow feeling in his chest. He’s craving something, not another drink, not a smoke (he quit once he was first elected as an MP). He wants something else, something dangerous and damning.

The heels of her shoes tap softly against the floor, until she’s standing in front of him.

He opens his eyes.

She frowns slightly before lifting her hand and delicately placing it on his shoulder. “You need to relax, sir,” she says.

He lets out a low “hmm,” as he weighs out his options. This seems like a bad idea. A really, really bad idea.

“That’s not going to happen with you here,” he says.

Her calm, somewhat smug expression falls. She looks so innocent now, so sweet. “What does that mean?” she says.

He leans in closer to her, until the tip of his nose barely brushes against hers. “I think you know what it means, darling.”

She hesitates, before her mouth spreads into an eager smile that shows off her teeth.

Her hands find his, ensnaring him under a soft but commanding grip. She leads him away from the wall, to the sofa by the fireplace.

He settles on it, leaning against the arm as she comes to her knees before him, spreading his legs apart to make room for herself.

She palms her hand over the hardness that’s been straining painfully against his trousers for hours now. She feels along his clothed cock, pressing her cheek against it and gazing up at him with a look of teasing innocence.

Aemond knows he is done for, jaw slack, chest rising and falling as he breathes. He would have never presumed he would find himself in this kind of position, not after all the work’s he’s had to do cleaning up the mess of Aegon’s fuck ups, not after working this hard to get where he is, and least of all because he believes himself to be a decent man.

But he doesn’t stop her as her fingers undo the button and the zip on his trousers, and he doesn’t make any kind of protest as she takes his freed cock in her hand and teasingly strokes along it.

He keeps his hands firmly on the sofa, digging his fingertips and his nails into the leather, as if he hasn’t been dreaming of having her like this for weeks, as if he hasn’t fucked his own hand countless times pretending it was her.

He doesn’t have to pretend anymore. He looks down, his jaw slack, barely containing his strained breaths, and there she is, doe-eyed and eager as she places a delicate kiss to his flushed tip. Her lips barely brush against him before she pulls away, keeping a hold at the base.

His arousal stains her mouth and she fucking grins.

“Enjoying yourself?” he says through gritted teeth.

“Yes, sir,” she says, sweetly, earnestly.

He runs his hand against her hair, gently, as if trying to soothe her. It seems to take her by surprise which only serves to excite him further.

She leans into his touch, lips parting, her eyes half-lidded and dreamy.

Until he grips his fist and pulls. He tilts her head up. It shouldn’t hurt, but it’s enough to bring her attention back to him.

He decides he won’t tell her what to do, not directly, but she’s a smart girl, she knows what he wants.

With her eyes wide again, she opens her mouth and inches his cock past her lips. The tightness in his gut starts to burn as she works up and down his length, slowly– excruciatingly slowly. It’s not in anyway relaxing, he thinks, but it’s a nice kind of torture.

He loses himself to the warmth and the wetness of her mouth, her tongue running over the underside of his cock, her lips teasing over the tip before she moves back down, using her hands where her mouth can’t reach.

He chokes out a throaty “fuck,” knowing there’s a security guard outside the door, and probably a few of the staff still lingering about.

But she looks so beautiful like this, her brow furrowed in determination as she tries to take him deeper and deeper, desperate to please him, happy to make him suffer for it. And the little noises she makes, the gags and the moans. He imagines that she likes this, that she’s been wanting this for as long as he has, and if he pulled her onto his lap and slid his fingers under her skirt, he’d find her drenched.

She starts to up the pace until he brings his hand to the side of her face again, his hand large enough that he can rest his palm against her cheek and tease his fingers through her hair. Her eyes dart up to his, wide and teary.

“Good girl,” he whispers, “nice and slow, just like that.”

She whimpers around him, breathing desperately through her nose.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he coos, “you started this, didn’t you? Wanted to taste me? Wanted to feel my cock in your mouth?”

She hums in agreement.

“Just fucking take it then,” he says with a clenched jaw, gripping her hair to bob her head up and down, keeping that torturous pace.

The pleasure builds slowly, running hotly through his body, but he fights the urge to clamp both hands around her head and buck his hips up to fuck her throat.

He comes harder than he thinks he ever has before, keeping himself sheathed within her as he paints the inside of her mouth, and pulls her head away to see the last few drops spill against her lips.

She gazes up at him with dazed and glassy eyes. She’s panting, trying to catch her breath. Her forehead glistens with sweat, mascara runs down her face and his spend drips over her chin.

He wipes some of the mess away with his thumbs, cradling her face in his hands. “Swallow,” he orders.

Her mouth closes and her throat bobs. He can already feel the tension in his gut tightening again.

If only he could keep her like this forever.

She makes it to Hightower House at the usual time of 8am, despite leaving work so late last night. Despite the hours she spent consumed by thoughts of Aemond Targaryen as she rode the train and dragged herself into her bed. Despite the aching arousal that went unfulfilled. Despite the marks on her knees and the stiffness in her jaw.

When she walks into Alys’ office to sign in, she’s already there, perfectly poised and typing away on her laptop.

“Morning,” she says brightly.

Alys looks up from the screen. The white light shining from below makes her face look a little eerie. “Morning,” she says with a smug look on her face.

She ignores it, scrawling down the time and her signature beside her name.

“You were working rather late last night,” Alys says.

“Yeah, I was,” she mutters, placing the pen down and straightening her spine.

Alys is staring at her. Her eyes are unnervingly bright. “He never asks Maris to work late.”

Her heart drops.

It’s like she can feel the weight of him in her mouth, the taste of him on her tongue.

“I bet he’s just realised I’m more of a people pleaser,” she says.

Alys hums and smiles. “Yeah?”

She doesn’t have time for this. She hangs up her coat and her bag, and picks up two black coffees from the coffee machine in the kitchenette down the hall.

Aemond is in his office, leaning back in his chair with his mobile pressed to his ear. He doesn’t react much when he sees her, he just watches her as she sets one of the cups in front of him. He raises his eyebrows in thanks and brings it to his lips.

She imagines the person on the other end of the call is starting to bore him.

“Yeah… yeah… I know… well there’s not much to be done now but get it over with.”

She takes a few sips from her own cup, wiping the corners of her mouth. Aemond follows her fingers as she does.

“I’ll speak to you after. Yes, thank you, grandfather.” He hangs up the phone and tosses it onto a stack of papers on the desk. “Seven fucking Hells.”

“How did that go?” she asks.

Aemond rolls his eyes and huffs a tired laugh. “He wants to talk through candidates for the by-election in Duskendale. I said I’ll think about it if I survive PMQs.”

She sets her coffee cup down. “What are you most worried about? You’ve prepared for this. What’s worrying you?”

Aemond taps his fingers against the desk. She tries not to ignore the thrill it sends through her belly.

“I’ve never had to deal with something like this. I’ve never been this worried about the party’s image, but that’s usually because I do everything right.”

The whole Aegon situation is beyond his control, and yet he’ll be getting the scrutiny for it.

“People need to be able to trust you,” she says.

Aemond looks up at her expectantly.

“Is Aegon still a party member?” she asks.

Aemond’s expression darkens. “That was discussed. Otto wants him to remain an official member.”

“You’re the Prime Minister. Put your foot down.”

“I can’t,” he says, standing and fixing the rolled up sleeves and undone buttons on his shirt before he reaches for his tie.

“You can’t afford not to. If you go easy on Aegon, Rhaenyra’s going to play to some kind of ‘the Greens are anti woman card.’ Your voters need to know you’re taking this seriously.”

“And throw my own brother under the bus?” he says, sternly.

But she can tell he’s still nervous. His hands are shaking as he ties the tie around his neck.

She pauses, wondering where the line is here. Aegon Targaryen will be fine. He’ll be put under investigation and keep getting bad press for a while, but he can live off daddy’s money in the meantime, and in a few years the whole scandal will be forgotten.

She takes a few steps towards him and comes close enough to smell the dark, boozy smell of his perfume, and shoos his hands away.

“What would be better for the country,” she asks, tilting her head and keeping her eyes focused as she fastens his tie, “presenting yourself as a leader who is committed to integrity and respect, or leaving yourself open to further criticism?”

She pushes the knot up tightly against his collar for emphasis.

Aemond just smirks. “You’re very persuasive,” he says.

“That’s my job, sir.”

She gasps as his hand grabs her hip and pulls her against him. His breath runs hotly over her face as he tilts her chin up to look at him. His throat hums as he breathes.

She could fall apart then and there.

Until a knock on the door has her practically shoving him away.

Aemond chuckles and shrugs on his suit jacket. “Enter,” he calls.

She turns her back to the door to hide the flustered look on her face, pretending to look through a bookshelf that she’s never really looked at properly before.

“Car for you, sir,” Alys says from the doorway.

Aemond calls for her by her surname. Fuck– she was supposed to pack his briefcase before he left. She takes a breath and goes about collecting all the pages of notes and briefings he’ll need.

She brings it to him, and notices Maris standing in the hallway behind Alys. Maris usually goes with him to the Red Keep for PMQs, but today he requests that she accompany him. She supposes it makes sense, she’s been the one helping him prepare after all.

Maris’ face is a storm. Alys looks down at her feet and tries to stifle a giggle.

The next few hours are a blur. She trails after Aemond through the ornate corridors, keeping her eyes on his silver hair, flowing down the back of his black suit jacket. Somewhere along the way, Cole and the head of security, a man Aemond greets as “Mr Westerling”, joins them.

They leave through the front entrance, into the sharp September air and into a black car. The hum of the engine and the smell of leather makes her nauseous, but they’re only in the car for a matter of minutes before the door swings open and she’s been ushered towards the Red Keep.

Once a seat of Kings, now the red stone castle seems a little out of place with the rest of the city. This is where Parliament gathers.

As they walk through its halls, Aemond tells her to throw a few questions at him. She has them all memorised in her head, able to recite a few without really thinking about it. Aemond mutters the answers they’ve rehearsed under his breath, smiling politely and waving as they pass by civil servants, MPs, Green and Black party members alike. They even pass Cregan Stark, leader of the Northern Independence party. He whispers all of their names in her ear.

There’s a small room where Aemond waits in before he enters the Great Hall. She can hear the noise and the chatter on the other side of the double doors, engraved with the same crest that marks the gates to Hightower House.

He won’t stop moving, adjusting his tie and his cuffs, tutting and pursing his lips.

She makes sure Cole and Westerling are muttering to each other before she leans into Aemond, putting her hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be fine,” she whispers, “don’t see it as a chance for them to criticise you, see it as an opportunity for you to reassure everyone else of how brilliant you are.”

Aemond turns his head towards her. He’s not touching her but she feels the proximity.

“That’s an interesting way to look at it,” he says.

She smiles. “It’s all perspective.”

Before Aemond is called into the hall, Cole directs her to the gallery, above the benches where the MPs sit.

She and Aemond meet eyes before she leaves. She stops herself from reaching for him, not wanting to leave his side.

“Good luck,” she says.

As if he needs it. She watches everything unfold from the gallery, the MPs sat below her like she’s watching a play in a theatre.

Aemond starts off with an amazing opening speech which, at her recommendation, doesn’t shy away from the issue of the whole Aegon scandal. He affirms his commitment to ensuring that central government is a safe and inclusive working environment, which is when he announces Aegon’s resignation as an MP, as well as his removal from the Green Party.

The chamber in an uproar. A few members of the Green Party make a bit of a fuss, but mostly Aemond’s announcement is applauded, even by a good number of Black Party members.

Rhaenyra, Aemond’s sister and predecessor, is at a loss for words, as is her deputy, Daemon.

Aemond seems to get a boost of confidence from this and takes every question in his stride, using elements from the answers she had rehearsed with him and even throwing in a few one liners which has half the room cheering him.

And he’s fucking hot when he’s cocky.

While he speaks all she can think of is how he sounded while she was between his legs. “Good girl… just fucking take it…” she has to clench her fists and her jaw at the wave of arousal that rises within her.

Afterwards she walks with him to the car. A whole host of Green Party members crowd him as they walk through the hallways, praising him, commending him. He smiles graciously, looking over his shoulder every so often to look at her, to make sure she’s not fallen behind.

The silence of the car is unbearable with Cole and Westerling in the front, and Aemond beside her, drumming his fingers against his thigh and running his other hand through his hair.

She presses her thighs at the obvious arousal pooling at her centre.

Seven hells, she’s acting like she’s in heat.

She follows Aemond back through Hightower House, past Alys’ office, to his own office. When he closes the door behind them, he locks it.

She leans against the desk, keeping her hands on the wood behind her.

Aemond turns back to her with a ravenous look in his pale blue eyes. He reaches into his pocket, effortlessly pulling his hair into a low bun, as he usually does in informal company.

She can’t take her eye off him as he tosses his jacket over the sofa, and begins to roll up the sleeves of his shirt. Then he stalks towards her, his chin tilted down and his lips in a tight line, until he’s close enough to paw at her waist.

“I suppose I should thank you for your help,” he says, eyes fixed on his hands as they tease over the fabric of the red mini skirt she had picked out this morning, the way she squirms underneath him.

“Oh,” she breathes. One of his hands trails up, untucking her blouse from her skirt and brushing his fingertips against the bare skin underneath. “Just… doing my job, sir.”

He hums to himself as his hand works its way round to her backside, squeezing gently. “Do you like calling me ‘sir’?”

She can’t help but nod, dazed at the feeling of his hands tracing the shape of her body.

“Yeah, I think you do,” he says, leaning in to press a slow, firm kiss to her neck.

Her resolve is shattered. She throws her hands around his neck, pulling herself into him, desperate to feel him against her, to stay close to him.

She almost whines when he moves away, much to his amusement, feeling her mouth fall into a pout.

“Don’t tell me I’ve got a brat,” he says, taking her chin in his hand. “Are you going to be good for me, pet?”

“Yes, sir,” she utters.

“See? You don’t even need to be told,” he says with a smile. “You’re going to turn around and lean over the desk.”

She follows his instructions without missing a beat, bracing herself on her forearms, against the surface. She feels her skirt being pushed up over her hips, her tights and panties pulled down in one go, fingertips trailing over her thighs. Then she feels his breath against the wetness of her bare pussy.

She can’t help but let out a quiet moan, pressing her nails into the wood in anticipation.

“Haven’t even fucking touched you yet, are you that desperate for me?”

“Yes, sir,” she whimpers, trying to look over her shoulder.

Aemond’s hand finds its way against her head, pressing her down. And he doesn’t let go.

His fingers drag through her folds, teasing her entrance and her clit before he slides in a single digit. It feels so different from her own, longer and thicker, pressing into her at an unfamiliar angle. She feels utterly weightless, the obscene sound of him moving in and out of her only adding to her arousal.

Aemond’s voice is dark and husky, as it was last night. “Good girl,” he coos, “that feels good, doesn’t it?”

When she doesn’t reply, he withdraws and lands a stinging slap against her cheek, before he pushes into her again. “Answer me,” he says, clearly and firmly.

“Yes, sir,” she says, frantically trying to nod against his hold of her head. “Feels so fucking good.”

He increases his speed, pumping in and out of her until her climax washes over her. It happens gradually, building and building before a pleasant numbness washes through her, to every corner of her body.

While she comes down from her high, her attention is caught by the sound of a belt buckle and rustling fabric.

The tip of his cock presses into her without warning. He inches further and further in until he bottoms out, the material of his trousers pressing against her skin– the cunt hasn’t even bothered to take off his clothes.

He finally relents his hold of her head, grabbing at her waist as he ruts into her. It’s fast and primal, adrenaline pumping through her blood, Aemond’s fingers digging into her flesh, her breath coming out in moans, his belt buckle hitting the desk with every harsh thrust.

“Knew you were a little slut,” he grits out, grabbing at her cheeks and spreading them out to watch his cock moving in and out of her. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

She covers her mouth with her hand to hold back the wanton noises threatening to slip past her lips.

Suddenly a hand comes to her shoulder, pulling her up against his chest. One hand kneads at her breasts through her blouse and her bra, while the other slips between her legs, tracing quick circles over her clit.

“I wanna feel you come,” he rasps into her ear, “wanna feel my good girl clench around my cock.”

She doesn’t know what to do with herself. She clings to his arms and digs her teeth into her bottom lip. She can feel herself hurtling towards her climax, if only he would move his fingers a little faster.

“Please,” she whispers.

“What was that, pet?” Aemond asks, brushing his lips over her cheek. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want to come!” she whines. “Fuck– please… please, I just want to come, sir.”

She feels him smiling against her as his fingers rub faster over her clit. She can feel how deep he is inside her, how his cock bullies against that sensitive spot, over and over again, until her orgasm tears through her.

She tries to keep her mouth shut but she can’t help the pleading groan that hums in her throat. Aemond holds her as she falls apart, fucking her thoroughly through it all.

Until finally, he reaches his end, hissing through his teeth and pulling out to spill himself onto her pussy. She feels the warmth, how it drips through her folds, for now uncaring of the mess they’ve surely made.

Aemond keeps holding her against his chest. His forehead falls against the back of her head and his hot breath echoes over her neck. “I really appreciate the work you’ve done for me,” he says breathlessly. “I think you and I make quite a pair, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes, sir,” she mewls, letting her head fall against his arm.

Aemond hums a laugh to himself, it rumbles in his chest and against her back. “So pretty and polite,” he coos, “how did I ever manage without you until now, pet?”

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya @dreamsofoldvalyria @targaryenrealnessdarling

A/n: I might do a part 2 to this so let me know if you would liked to be tagged :)

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ijustmissyouraccenths · 2 days

Text

I Want To Kill Her

Au where Y/N and Harry are neighbors who find out their spouses are cheating with each other.

Based off Fortnight by Taylor Swift

CW: Smut, cursing, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink.

Word Count: 6,773

Growing up in America was a constant uphill battle for me. Every day, my family's lower middle class status weighed heavily on our shoulders, dragging us down and suffocating any sense of hope. Despite my parents' relentless efforts, we were always one step away from financial ruin. At school, I was painfully reminded of my economic disadvantage as I trudged through the halls in threadbare clothes and drove up in a battered car that served as a target for cruel jokes and vicious teasing from my more privileged peers. But amidst the constant struggle, I found refuge in my studies. The world of academia offered a fleeting escape from the harsh realities of my daily life, where I poured all my energy into excelling and proving my worth to a society that seemed determined to keep me down.

Life in our small town was like a broken record, repeating the same monotonous routine day after day. That is, until Teddy waltzed into our midst like a breath of fresh air. His tall frame stood out amongst the sea of ordinary faces, and his crisp British accent was music to our ears. The local coffee shop suddenly became a buzz of excitement as he charmed everyone with his wit and sophistication. And when he extended an invitation for me to join him in London, it was like a fairytale come to life. Leaving my predictable life behind and starting anew in the bustling city seemed intimidating, but I couldn't resist the allure of adventure and passion that awaited me with Teddy by my side.

My hand shook as I clutched the small, worn suitcase. Tears welled up in my eyes as I said goodbye to my family and familiar life. But deep down, a sense of determination propelled me forward. I took a deep breath and stepped onto the plane bound for London. As the engines roared and the wheels lifted off the ground, a knot formed in my stomach and my heart raced with a mix of emotions - fear of the unknown, excitement for new adventures, and anticipation for what lay ahead.

I pressed my forehead against the cool, double-paned window and watched as familiar buildings and streets grew smaller and smaller. A sense of relief washed over me, lifting the weight of my past struggles and hardships with every mile we flew away from them. Little did I know, the journey ahead would be filled with new challenges and lessons that would shape me into the person I was always meant to become.

As we soared higher into the sky, thick clouds began to spread like a blanket over the vast expanse of blue. The world below disappeared from view, hidden by layers of white. But as we descended towards London, small patches of land began to peek through - rolling hills covered in lush green fields and charming villages nestled along winding rivers. My heart fluttered with excitement and curiosity at this glimpse of a foreign land.

The wheels touched down on the runway, jolting me out of my daydreams. I took a deep breath as we taxied towards the terminal, ready to embark on this new chapter of my life in a place that felt both unfamiliar and full of endless possibilities.

The bright lights of London beckoned me, a stark contrast to the small town I left behind. Teddy, my generous host, had spared no expense to make me feel at home in his lavish house. Each morning, I woke up to stunning views of the city skyline through floor-to-ceiling windows. The enticing scent of freshly baked pastries and rich coffee filled my nostrils, reminding me that this was a life of luxury that I never could have imagined.

But what truly amazed me was the fact that I no longer had to work. Teddy's successful business ventures meant that money was no longer a worry for me. This newfound wealth allowed me to indulge in all the things I could only dream about before. My wardrobe was now filled with designer clothes, fancy dinners were a regular occurrence, and luxurious vacations were just a plane ride away.

However, amidst all this extravagance and joy, there was always a twinge of guilt in the back of my mind. Growing up, every penny counted and financial struggles were a constant source of stress for my family. Now, with my newfound wealth, I couldn't help but feel guilty for having so much while others back home still struggled to make ends

I fiercely pushed all doubts and apprehensions aside, determined to fully surrender myself to my newfound life. And by all appearances, I succeeded. Teddy whisked me away on dazzling tours of the city, revealing hidden gems and indulging in the finest cuisine known only to elites. He also opened the door to his elite circle of friends – powerful individuals who radiated confidence and wealth wherever they went.

At first, I felt like a mere observer among them. While they boasted about their latest investments and business ventures, I could only offer anecdotes about my humble beginnings in a small town. But as weeks turned into months, they welcomed me into their exclusive inner circle. They even included us on extravagant trips abroad where we mingled with A-list celebrities and attended VIP events.

I couldn't believe how rapidly my life had transformed since meeting Teddy. Where once I was ridiculed for not fitting in with the wealthy crowd, now I lived among them, basking in their luxurious lifestyle.

But amidst all the glitz and glamour, a persistent voice gnawed at the back of my mind. It started one afternoon while Teddy was tending to the front yard. On the surface, it seemed like an ordinary chore for a homeowner, but something about it felt insidious and unsettling.

Despite the hired help we had to maintain our lavish property, Teddy insisted on taking care of menial tasks himself. At first, I thought it was just his need to be hands-on, but as the days turned into weeks, I couldn't ignore the way his eyes lingered on the woman next door. Every time she stepped outside in her form-fitting gardening attire, he would drop whatever he was doing and watch her with an unbridled hunger. Her movements were like a sensual dance, each step oozing with an irresistible seduction that captivated him. She seemed to know exactly how to entice him, bending over suggestively in her garden while his eyes greedily took in every curve of her body. But when her husband's luxury car pulled into their driveway, she would become a picture of innocence once again. It was a tantalizing game of desire and secrecy, leaving me wondering what they truly did behind closed doors.

Rosie, the woman of the house, was a force to be reckoned with, her love and dedication to her garden rivaling that of a mother's fierce protection for her child. Harry, her husband and successful entrepreneur, exuded a confident aura as he walked through their flourishing gardens, the beauty brand he created known by all as Pleasing. Despite our similar ages, their maturity and put-together appearance made me feel inadequate in comparison. Our own home seemed dull and lifeless in comparison to theirs, always offering an unobstructed view of Rosie's constant tending to her bountiful gardens, a sight that also caught my husband's wandering eyes. But it was impossible to deny the allure of their well-manicured gardens, bursting with vibrant hues and intoxicating scents that enveloped us in a hypnotic trance.

Each passing week brought a new wave of torment as I watched Teddy's eyes dart towards Rosie's garden, his gaze lingering on her while she tended to her roses. My stomach twisted with jealousy as he made excuses to be outside, his every move calculated to catch her attention.

I couldn't bear the thought of him longing for someone else, and my heart shattered into pieces with each stolen glance towards her. Desperate for answers, I confronted him about their relationship, but he dismissed my fears with a cold indifference and insisted they were just innocent neighbors. But deep down, I knew there was something more between them, and it consumed me with a fiery rage that threatened to consume us all.

As I relaxed in the comfort of my home, the noise from outside suddenly jolted me out of my reverie. My eyes snapped to the window overlooking the busy street below, and there I saw Harry's sleek black Mercedes screeching into their driveway, its engine roaring wildly. Rosie appeared in the doorway, her movements frantic as she planted a forced kiss on his cheek before ushering him inside with an urgency that made my heart race. The door slammed shut behind them, and a foreboding sense of dread settled in my gut as I realized that something was seriously wrong between them. Whatever was happening, they were clearly trying to hide it from prying eyes.

My heart raced with a mix of excitement and dread as I made my way downstairs, my curiosity burning like a wildfire. The front door slammed behind me, the sun setting in a fiery blaze behind my back. My feet carried me across the short distance between our homes, anticipation building with each step. As I approached their front step, muffled voices drifted through the open window above me, a sinister soundtrack to my racing thoughts. I could make out Harry's tense tone and Rosie's pleading replies, but not the words themselves. Their hushed argument went on for what seemed like an eternity before falling silent, leaving me standing frozen in shock. My mind raced as I tried to piece together what was happening. Had my suspicions been correct after all? Were Rosie and Teddy entangled in a secret affair that Harry had finally uncovered? The weight of the truth hit me like a sledgehammer, filling me with a mix of anger, betrayal, and fear for what would

My thoughts were racing as I tried to decide what to do next, but before I could make a move, the front door swung open with a loud bang. My heart jolted in my chest as Harry stormed out, his face contorted with either seething anger or burning embarrassment - it was hard to tell which was more intense. He didn't even spare me a glance as he brushed past, heading straight for his car.

Just then, Rosie appeared in the doorway, her eyes widening in shock when she saw me standing there. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair was a wild mess, betraying some sort of frantic activity behind closed doors. "Oh...I-I didn't realize you were home," she stammered, her voice trembling with unease. She attempted a smile, but it fell short and I could see the fear in her eyes.

Before I could ask what was going on, Teddy burst out of our house and called out my name. He sprinted towards us from across the street, his brows furrowed with concern as he took in the sight of Rosie and I standing together. The tense atmosphere was thick between us all, and I knew something serious was about to go down.

"What's going on?" he demanded, his voice laced with concern as he eyed us both suspiciously.

I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, my mind racing with conflicting thoughts and emotions. "I honestly don't know," I admitted, feeling like a pawn in their complicated game. "Do you?"

Teddy and Rosie exchanged a tense look that spoke volumes about their troubled relationship. I could sense the weight of their secrets and lies pressing down on me, suffocating me with their toxic grip. Without another word, I turned and fled back inside, trying to escape the tangled web of deceit and betrayal they had woven around me. My once glamorous new life now felt tainted with suspicion and heartache.

I slam the door shut behind me, my hands trembling with rage and disbelief. My worst fears have been confirmed - Teddy and Rosie were having an affair all along, right under my naive nose. A surge of hot tears fills my eyes as I collapse onto the couch, my heart hammering in my chest. How could he do this to me? After all we've built together, all the love and trust we shared.

My mind races back through the past few months, dissecting every encounter between them that I had brushed off as innocent. His lingering looks at her, her secret smiles directed only at him, their hushed conversations that would abruptly end whenever I appeared. The pieces finally fit together, a puzzle of betrayal and deceit that I was too blind to see. How long has it been going on? Was it when he started staying late at work for that promotion? Or when our once effortless conversations turned into strained silence over dinner? My world is shattered, and I can't help but wonder if it was ever truly as perfect as I believed it to be.

My body curls in on itself, a protective barrier against the pain that radiates through me. My mind is stuck on replay, the tense exchange between them echoing endlessly in my head. Rosie's desperate pleas, Harry's explosive anger - it all points to betrayal.

The tears fall hot and heavy down my cheeks as I realize I can no longer ignore the truth. My heart aches with every beat, but I know I have to confront Teddy. Pretending everything is okay between us is no longer an option.

As I stand up and make my way to the front window, I catch a glimpse of Teddy crossing back over to our house, his defeated posture screaming guilt. The anger and hurt fueling my determination, I take a deep breath and brace myself for the inevitable confrontation.

When Teddy steps into our living room, the air crackles with tension like static electricity before a storm. The unspoken truths between us hang heavily, suffocatingly thick like a dense fog.

"Why don't you just admit it, Teddy?" My voice trembles with a mix of rage and despair.

He responds with words sharp as shattered glass, "Admit what? That you're so blinded by your own insecurity that you'd accuse me without any proof?" His betrayal cuts deep, adding more pieces to the already broken shards of my heart.

My hands balled into fists at my sides, knuckles turning white as I struggled to contain the raging storm inside me. "Don't you dare try to twist this around on me! I saw you, Teddy. I saw the way your eyes linger on her, like she's the only thing that matters."

Teddy's jaw clenched and his calm façade cracked, giving way to a simmering anger. "You're being paranoid. Rosie is just a friend, nothing more."

I took a step closer, my voice dripping with venom. "Oh please, spare me your excuses. I've seen how you look at her when you think I'm not looking."

Fury burned bright in his eyes, his voice rising in a challenge. "How dare you accuse me of cheating? I would never do that to you!"

Tears threatened to spill over as I shook my head in disbelief, my heart shattering into a million pieces. "It's not just about today, Teddy. It's been building up for months. The way you ignore me and shower her with attention... It's like I'm invisible to you now."

He scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping him. "Oh please, stop playing the victim here. You knew what you were getting into when we moved here.You want me to make you feel like you exist? Do you want me to fuck you? What do you want? You’re so needy you put your issues onto other women."

My nails dug into my palms as I fought to keep my composure in the face of his callous words. "I thought I was getting into a life with someone who loved and respected me. Not someone who sneaks around behind my back to screw the neighbor."

The tension in the room reached its breaking point as Teddy's mask slipped completely, revealing the raw emotions seething beneath the surface. "Maybe if you were more exciting, more adventurous, I wouldn't have to look elsewhere for some excitement in my life!"

His words struck me like a physical blow, leaving me reeling in disbelief and pain. The truth hung heavy in the air between us, an invisible barrier that seemed impossible to breach.

"I can't do this anymore," I whispered hoarsely, the finality of those words echoing like a gunshot in the silent room.

Teddy's expression softened for a fleeting moment before hardening once again with resolve. "Fine then! Maybe this is for the best. Actually, yeah it is. Bitch." he spat out, his voice laced with bitterness.

And with those parting words echoing in my ears like a curse, I turned away from him and headed towards the door, leaving behind our shattered dreams and broken promises in a trail of fractured memories.

The low hum of the engine filled the air as Harry sat in his sleek, black car, parked precisely outside of his modern fortress. I approached cautiously, trying to mask my trembling steps on the pavement. With a gentle tap on the window, I could feel his intense gaze burning through me from within the tinted glass. His phone slipped from his hand as he rolled down the window, revealing a sharp jawline and piercing eyes that seemed to glow with an otherworldly intensity. A commanding voice cut through the silence, "Get in." Without hesitation, I made my way around to the passenger side and sank into the plush leather seat next to him, feeling a mix of fear and excitement coursing through my veins.

As we drove away from the chaotic scene behind us, the tension in the car was suffocating. Every muscle in Harry's body seemed to be coiled with a fierce determination, his knuckles turning white as they gripped the steering wheel. I stole a quick glance at him, noticing how his usually calm demeanor was replaced by a dangerous edge, like a predator ready to strike at any moment.

A heavy silence hung in the air of the car, suffocating me as I struggled to catch my breath. Harry's voice pierced through the tension like a sharp blade, cutting deep into my racing thoughts. "Are you okay?" he asked, his expression etched with genuine concern.

I tried to speak, but my throat felt constricted and choked. Finally, I managed to whisper, "I don't know." My mind was reeling from the events that had unfolded only moments ago.

Harry's eyes remained fixed on the road ahead, his words heavy with understanding. "Life has a way of throwing unexpected challenges at us," he mused, his tone grave and contemplative. "But it's how we handle them that defines who we are."

I turned to look at him, grateful for his steady presence amid the chaos raging inside me. "Thank you," I said earnestly. "For being here for me."

A faint smile tugged at the corners of Harry's lips, but there was a glint of steel in his gaze. "You don't have to thank me," he replied firmly. "I'm here because I care about you and because your husband is sleeping with my wife." His reassurance was met with a sense of relief and gratitude amidst the turmoil that threatened to consume me.

The stillness between us was palpable, a fragile thread holding back a storm of emotions. The road stretched out before us, winding through fields and forests, as if it were leading us towards a new beginning.

My heart felt heavy with the weight of our shared past, but in this moment, with Harry by my side, I could feel a glimmer of hope for the future. Together, we drove into the unknown, leaving behind the pain and hurt that had consumed us.

But as we reached our destination - a rundown motel in the middle of nowhere - the tension returned. Harry's exhaustion and frustration were etched on his face as he turned to me.

"I know neither of us want to go home right now," he said, his voice laced with bitterness. "For fuck's sake, they're probably sexing each other up as we speak.." A surge of anger and betrayal rose within me at his words. "Let's just stay here for the night, maybe two. We can regroup and come up with a plan." His proposal hung in the air like a dark cloud, reminding us both of the uncertain future that lay ahead. But one thing was certain - we wouldn't have to face it alone.

My voice caught in my throat, unable to form words as I simply nodded, a tight knot of fear and anger coiling in my stomach. My body trembled with the intensity of the situation. We both knew that any misstep could cause everything to spiral out of control. The motel seemed like a fitting backdrop for our strained emotions, its dilapidated exterior reflecting the state of our relationship. The neon lights flickering ominously, casting a sickly glow over the peeling paint and broken windows. But even this rundown place offered some respite from the suffocating chaos and turmoil surrounding us.

Panicked and unprepared for the situation I found myself in, I regretted not packing a change of clothes as my heart raced and my mind spun with fear. The events that had just unfolded left me gasping for air, struggling to stay afloat in a sea of chaos. As we rushed into the rundown motel, I couldn't help but scan our surroundings, searching for any sign of danger. The flickering lights and musty smell only added to the ominous atmosphere. Harry snatched the key from the grimy front desk man and led us down a dimly lit hallway to our room. My anxiety spiked when they informed us that the only available room featured a single king-sized bed. My nerves were on edge at the thought of sharing such an intimate space with Harry, his intimidating presence looming over me like a dark cloud.

As we stepped into the dimly lit motel room, the tension between Harry and me was palpable, hanging heavy in the air like a thick fog. I could feel his eyes on me, assessing, judging.

"I'll take the floor," Harry offered gruffly, breaking the silence that had settled between us like a heavy blanket.

I shook my head, unable to accept his sacrifice. "No, we can share the bed. It's fine," I replied softly, trying to ease some of the strain that weighed on us both.

Harry hesitated for a moment before nodding curtly. "Alright then."

The room felt suffocatingly small as we settled in, the walls seeming to press in on us from all sides. The shadows danced ominously in the dim light, casting eerie shapes across the worn carpet.

"I never thought we'd end up here," I mused quietly, breaking the somber stillness that enveloped us.

Harry's voice was gruff as he responded, "Life has a funny way of throwing curveballs at you when you least expect it."

A bitter chuckle escaped my lips. "Seems like we're both striking out lately."

We sat in silence for a while, the weight of our complicated situation hanging heavily over us. The sound of distant traffic seeping through the thin walls served as a reminder of the world outside our little bubble of chaos.

Finally, Harry spoke again, his voice softer this time. "I'm sorry you're going through this. You deserve better."

I turned to look at him, meeting his gaze for the first time since we had arrived. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that caught me off guard.

"Thank you," I whispered, feeling a flicker of warmth amidst the cold despair that had settled in my heart. We sat side by side on the edge of the bed, two broken souls seeking solace in each other's company.

We sat in silence for a while longer, the weight of our circumstances still heavy on our shoulders but somehow more bearable with each other's presence. The flickering lights outside cast fleeting shadows across the room, adding a sense of fleeting impermanence to our shared moment of respite.

"I'm glad you're here," Harry spoke up suddenly, his voice genuine and heartfelt.

Tears welled up in my eyes at his words, grateful for the unexpected bond that had formed between us in the midst of turmoil. "Me too," I whispered, feeling a sense of hope blooming in my heart despite the challenges ahead.

And so we sat together in the dimly lit motel room, two souls seeking solace in each other's company amidst the chaos that threatened to tear us apart.

My phone began to buzz incessantly in my hand, Teddy's name flashing on the screen. I couldn't bear to see his name or hear his voice, so I forcefully shut off my phone and flung it across the room with a violent toss. As it clattered against the wall, Harry's quiet voice pierced through the air.

"She called me too," he seethed, his fists clenched at his side. "In this moment, I could kill her."

I nodded in agreement, my blood boiling with rage. "Teddy had the audacity to accuse me of being jealous and then suggest that if he just fucked me, my jealousy would disappear," I spat out, feeling both hurt and incensed by his words.

Harry's voice dripped with desire as he turned towards me, his gaze burning into my skin. "Would it?" His words were a challenge, daring me to answer. I could feel the heat radiating off his body as he leaned in closer.

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. "Would what?"

A smirk played at the corners of his lips as he spoke the words that sent a shiver down my spine. "If he fucked you, would you still be so jealous?"

My heart raced at the vulgar question and I let out a nervous laugh. Shaking my head, I replied, "No, Harry. Nothing could change how I feel."

He let out a deep sigh, frustration evident in his voice. "The timing of this is fucking terrible. I've always thought you were stunning, wondered what you saw in a guy like him. And I know I could give it to you so much better."

Our eyes locked in a heated moment and I couldn't deny the sparks that flew between us. But as tempting as his offer was, I knew I couldn't betray my feelings for another man.

I glanced up at him through my lashes and saw the raw intensity in his gaze. It was clear that he wanted me. But we both knew it could never be more than a forbidden fantasy.

“What if we had our own affair, you know, to get back at them.” He said with a smirk.

My heart pounded in my chest like a wild animal in a cage at his words. An affair? The thought sent waves of scandalous delight and sinful anticipation coursing through my veins.

"An affair, Harry?" I repeated tentatively, my voice barely above a whisper. His dark eyes were locked onto mine, the intensity of his gaze making my breath hitch in my throat. The charged silence that hung between us was as intoxicating as the raw desire smoldering in his gaze.

Leaning closer, Harry's lips brushed against my earlobe as he whispered huskily, "Yes, an affair, just like what they did. Us, sneaking around, feeling each others bodies." His hot breath fanned over me, causing goosebumps to rise on my skin.

The room seemed to shrink around us as Harry moved impossibly closer, his hand finding its way to my knee. I watched as his fingers traced patterns along my thigh, desire flooding me with each small movement.

Harry's thumb traced a line up towards the apex of my thighs, igniting sparks wherever it made contact with my flesh through the thin material of my skirt. My body instinctively rose to meet him and I let out a soft gasp.

"You want this," he murmured heatedly against my neck before nipping lightly at the sensitive skin there. A delicious shiver ran down my spine and my core clenched at his actions.

"I...I..." I stuttered, struggling for words as heat pooled low in my belly. He chuckled darkly at my loss for words before returning his attention back to where his hand had slowly began creeping upwards again. His warm touch was like an electric shock, leaving behind a trail of molten desire.

Without another word, Harry pushed up my skirt and slipped his hand into my panties. His fingers brushed lightly against me and I sucked in a sharp breath, feeling a jolt of pleasure shoot straight to my core. He grinned wickedly at me and slowly began to stroke me, his skilled fingers setting my senses ablaze.

"Harry," I moaned out, clutching at his arm as he expertly worked me into a bundle of nerves. His low chuckle did nothing to ease the escalating tension.

His finger easily slipped inside me, making me whimper at the sudden intrusion. Harry pumped his digits inside me slowly at first, but quickly sped up when I let out a needy gasp. The pleasure was overwhelming and soon enough, I clenched around him, a shuddering orgasm ripping through me.

I fell back onto the bed, panting heavily as aftershocks still tingled throughout my body. Harry wiped his glistening fingers on my skirt before smoothly pulling it back down. He then lay next to me on the bed, his smirk evident in the dim light.

"That's just a taste," he said with a wicked glint in his eyes.

"I can't wait to claim you as mine," Harry whispered in my ear, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine. My heart raced as he trailed kisses along my jaw and down my neck, stopping to suckle a tender spot just below my earlobe. His hands moved sensually over my body, teasingly tracing patterns on my skin before gripping me tighter.

Desperate for more of his touch, I moaned and arched into him. He took that as an invitation and gripped the hem of my shirt, pulling it up over my head roughly. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath when he saw me bare-chested for the first time. I blushed at his appreciation but internally preened at his reaction.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he growled lowly before capturing one of my nipples between his lips and sucking hard. My back bowed off the bed as I let out a keening whimper, my fingers tangling in his hair. He had a way of making me feel wanted and desired like no one ever had before.

He moved lower, kissing and licking his way down my stomach until he reached the hem of my skirt. With a swift movement, he yanked it up over my hips, baring me completely to him. His eyes darkened even more when they met mine again, full of lust and possession.

"Spread your legs for me," he commanded softly yet authoritatively. I hesitated for only a moment before complying with his request, feeling incredibly exposed but also powerfully aroused by the thought of pleasing him in any way possible.

Harry took advantage of this vulnerability by thrusting two fingers deep inside me without any warning or preparation. I gasped at the intrusion but didn't stop him from exploring deeper within me. Instead, I clenched around his fingers instinctively while moaning out his name in ecstasy. He chuckled softly against my inner thigh before reaching between our bodies to stroke himself in time with his rhythmic fingering of me.

"You're so tight," he groaned approvingly.

As Harry thrust his fingers deeper into me, I couldn't help but moan louder. His fingers curled inside me, searching for my sweet spot while his other hand gripped my hip firmly. My body shuddered with pleasure as we moved together in this intense rhythm.

"You feel so good," I whispered between breaths. "Please don't stop."

He chuckled darkly before biting down softly on the lobe of my ear, sending a jolt of excitement through me. His hips picked up speed, grinding against me as he groaned in approval.

"That's it, baby girl," he growled. "Take what you want."

His words ignited something deep within me, making me even more hungry for his touch. I didn't hesitate to wrap my legs around his waist and pull him closer still. Our skin slapped together in sync with each swift thrust and retreat as we moved together like two bodies meant to be one.

"Oh fuck, you're driving me wild," he whispered into my ear before grabbing a fistful of my hair and pulling my head back sharply. The sudden sting shot straight to my core, intensifying every sensation tenfold. He released my hair just as quickly and crashed his lips onto mine in a demanding kiss that left me panting for air.

We moved from the couch to bed floor where he pushed me down onto all fours before kneeling behind me. One hand gripped the base of my spine while the other caressed its way up my inner thigh towards my core again. He teased me mercilessly with his fingers as he trailed hot kisses down my spine and back up again, sending shivers of anticipation through my entire body.

"I know I'll fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before," he muttered darkly into my ear just before slamming himself deep inside me from behind in one powerful stroke that made me cry out loudly at both surprise and pleasure. In response, he gripped both sides of my face roughly yet tenderly and claimed my mouth once more in a fiery kiss that went on forever or at least it felt like it did until our bodies became entwined.

I could feel his cock hardening in his pants and I needed it no matter how wrong it was.

He gripped my hair tightly and pulled my head back, exposing my neck. His hot breath sent shivers down my spine as he whispered, "You're mine to fuck however I want." Wanting more than anything to feel his cock deep inside me, I moaned in agreement.

Pushing me against the bed, he roughly lifted one of my legs and wrapped it around his waist. With his free hand, he pushed his hard and heavy cock into me. I cried out at the intense pleasure shooting through my body as he began to thrust slowly yet powerfully in and out of me.

"Say you want it," he growled against my ear. "Tell me how much you need it."

"Please," I whimpered. "Fuck me hard."

His answering groan sent a wave of heat coursing through my veins as he slammed into me with all his might, claiming my mind and body as his own. The force of each thrust sent jolts of electricity through every nerve ending i body, leaving me breathless and begging for more.

As he continued to pound into me, I couldn't help but moan his name. His thick cock stretched and filled me, hitting my sweet spot with each powerful thrust. I felt my walls start to quake, ready to explode with pleasure as he took control of our encounter.

"That's it," he growled, nipping at my earlobe. "Just let go."

I clung to him tighter, my nails digging into his skin as I surrendered to the intensity of our lovemaking. Every muscle in my body was on edge, waiting for the release that felt so close yet so far away.

He changed positions again, lifting me up and pushing me against the wall. His other hand gripped my hair tightly as he claimed my mouth roughly in a deep, passionate kiss. My legs wrapped around his waist instinctively as he began to thrust even harder into me. It felt so dirty yet so good to be taken like this.

"You are mine," he whispered harshly between breaths. "Only mine. I bet your husband would be fucking dumbfounded when he sees you filled up with my babies."

His words sent shivers down my spine, and I couldn't help but nod in agreement as he took control completely. This was exactly what I needed - someone strong who would make me feel wanted and taken care of.

As we moved together in sync, lost in the heat of passion and desire, I whispered back to him between gasps for air, "Please...don't stop."

He replied by grabbing hold of my ass cheeks and squeezing them tightly as he thrust deeper into me. His rough skin rubbed against mine, sending tingling sensations all over my body. With every push and pull, our hips collided, echoing throughout the room.

I could feel him growing harder inside me, straining against the thin fabric separating us. The anticipation was killing me - I needed him to release that cock and fill me up completely. As if reading my mind, he pulled away from me suddenly and spun me around so that I was facing the wall again.

"Not yet," he growled into my ear before reaching down and teasing my entrance with his thumbs. He pushed one finger inside me slowly, then another, stretching me open until three fingers were buried deep inside me. I arched my back involuntarily as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through my veins at his tender ministrations on my most sensitive spot.

“Where is your damn phone?” Harry demanded, his voice dripping with urgency. I struggled to lift my head off the bed and weakly pointed to the device lying on the floor. Without hesitation, he leapt from the bed and strode over to it.

A sinister grin spread across his face as he unlocked the phone and shoved his thumb into my mouth, ordering me to suck on it. With a twisted sense of satisfaction, he flipped the phone and snapped a selfie, making sure to capture the tattoos inked on his arm for identification. His next move was ruthless as he pulled up my text messages and sent the photo to Teddy, effectively sending a clear message of dominance over me.

"I'll make sure that bastard knows what he's missing out on," Harry growls, his eyes filled with possessive rage. "You're too good for him, love. A fucking goddess like you deserves to be worshipped and adored, not tossed aside like a used toy." I feel a mix of anger and satisfaction as I realize that I don't need Teddy anymore, not after the wild and passionate night I just had with Harry. He makes me feel alive in a way no one else ever has.

Harry threw the phone back onto the bed, his eyes never leaving mine. I could see the fire in his gaze, the intensity of his desire for me. He reached out and ran a hand through my hair, gently tugging on it as he leaned in to kiss me. His lips were soft, but his touch was firm, demanding. I responded eagerly, meeting his kiss with equal passion.

As we kissed, Harry's hands began to wander, exploring my body with a familiarity that set my skin on fire. He traced the curve of my waist, the arch of my back, the dip of my hips. I could feel myself growing wetter with every touch, every kiss. I needed him inside me again, needed to feel him filling me up, possessing me completely.

But Harry had other plans. He broke our kiss and looked deep into my eyes, his expression serious. "Not yet," he whispered, echoing his earlier words. "I want to savor every moment with you."

He lowered his head and began to kiss a trail down my neck, across my collarbone, down to my breasts. He teased my nipples with his tongue, biting down gently on the sensitive flesh. I gasped, arching my back as waves of pleasure washed over me.

Slowly, carefully, Harry began to enter me once again. He moved slowly at first, savoring every inch of me. But as he felt me grow wetter, more responsive, he picked up the pace. He thrust deeper, harder, his hips slapping against mine. I could feel myself losing control, could feel the familiar tightening in my belly as I approached my climax.

"Turn over, want to see that beautiful ass of yours as I fill you up," he growled, his voice thick with desire.

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blackcrowing · 7 months

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Important Facts about Samhain from an Irish Celtic Reconstructionist

Pronunciation

SOW-in or SOW-een ~NOT~ Sam-han, Sam-win etc.

Dates

Most reconstructionists celebrate Samhain on Oct 31-Nov 1, however some may choose to celebrate on Gregorian Nov 13-14 as this would match the Julian dates of Oct 31-Nov 1. Some also believe that it was a three day festival spanning Oct 31- Nov 2 on which Nov 2 is specifically devoted to ancestral veneration, but there is no specific evidence of this, only possible extrapolation from more modern practices.

Following the Celtic method of days beginning at sunset, regardless of the specific dates you choose to celebrate on your festivities should begin at sunset and end at sunset.

Importance in the Mythos

Ná Morrighan has a strong connection to this time of year thanks to the story of Cath Dédenach Maige Tuired (The Last Battle of Mag Tuired) in which she is found depicted as the ‘Washing Woman’ (sometimes washing herself in the river and other times washing the bloodied armor of the soldiers that would die that day), on the eve of the battle which is also Samhain. The Dagda approaches her and couples with her (creating the ‘Bed of the Couples’ along the bank of river and granting Dagda her blessing in the battle to come). This encounter seems to over emphasize the liminality of the encounter by taking place during the changing of the year and with the couple each standing with ‘one foot on either bank’ of the river.

She and her sisters (Badb and Macha) then use various forms of magic to rain destruction on their enemies (in the form of fire and blood). After the day is won Morrighan speaks a prophecy that describes what is taken by some to be the end of days and others to be the events which will later lead to the Ulster Cycle.

Beneath the peaceful heavens lies the land. It rests beneath the bowl of the bright sky. The land lies, itself a dish, a cup of honeyed strength, there, for the taking, offering strength to each There it lies, the splendour of the land. The land is like a mead worth the brewing, worth the drinking. It stores for us the gifts of summer even in winter. It protects and armours us, a spear upon a shield Here we can make for ourselves strong places, the fist holding the shield Here we can build safe places, our spear-bristling enclosures. This is where we will turn the earth. This is where we will stay. And here will our children live to the third of three generations Here there will be a forest point of field fences The horn counting of many cows And the encircling of many fields There will be sheltering trees So fodderful of beech mast that the trees themselves will be weary with the weight. In this land will come abundance bringing: Wealth for our children Every boy a warrior, Every watch dog, warrior-fierce The wood of every tree, spear-worthy The fire from every stone a molten spear-stream Every stone a firm foundation Every field full of cows Every cow calf-fertile Our land shall be rich with banks in birdsong Grey deer before Spring And fruitful Autumns The plain shall be thronged from the hills to the shore. Full and fertile. And as time runs its sharp and shadowy journey, this shall be true. This shall be the story of the land and its people We shall have peace beneath the heavens. Forever

(based on the translation by Isolde Carmody)

It is also mentioned in Echtra Cormaic that on this festival every seven years the high king would host a feast, it was at this time new laws could be enacted. (but it seems that individual Tuathas or possibly kings of the individual providence may have done this for their territories at Lughnasadh).

It seems to be a time considered especially susceptible to (or of) great change as it is the time which the Tuatha de Danann win victory over the Formorians and take control of Ireland, the invasion of Ulster takes place at this time in Táin bo Cúailnge, in Aislinge Óengusa Óengus and his bride-to-be are changed from bird to human and eventually he claims kingship of Brú na Bóinne at this time of year.

Celebration Traditions

Samhain is the beginning of the “dark half” of the year and is widely regarded as the Insular Celtic equivalent of the New Year. The “dark half” of the year was a time for story telling, in fact in this half of the year after dark is considered the only acceptable time to tell stories from the mythological and Ulster cycle (the Fenian cycle being assumed to be no older than the 12th century based on linguistic dating). Traditionally anything that had not been harvested or gathered by the time of this festival was to be left, as it now belonged to the Fae (in some areas specifically the Púca).

This was also an important time for warding off ill luck in the coming year. Large bonfires would be built and as the cattle were driven back into the community from the pastures they would be walked between these bonfires as a method of purification (the reverse custom of Bealtaine where the livestock were walked between the fires on their way out to the summer pastures). Assumed ritualistic slaughter of some of the herd would follow (though this perhaps had the more practical purpose of thinning the herd before the winter and creating enough food for the feasting). In some areas the ashes from these fires would be worn, thrown or spread as a further way to ward off evil.

Homes would be ritualistically protected from the Aos Sí (Fae or ‘Spirits’) through methods such as offerings of food (generally leaving some of the feasting outside for them), carving turnips with scary faces to warn them off (we now tend to do this with gourds), and smoke cleansing the home (in Scottish saining) traditionally with juniper, but perhaps rowan or birch might be an acceptable alternative. It is likely these would be part of the components used in Samhain bonfires as well, for the same reason.

Lastly based on later traditions as well as links in the mythology this is a time where divination practices or those with the ‘second sight’ were regarded to be especially potent.

Art Credit @morpheus-ravenna

#samhain #irish #irish mythology #irish polytheism #irish paganism #celtic reconstructionism #celtic paganism #celtic polytheism #na morrigna #the morrígan #the dagda #fire festival #blackcrowing #Irish reconstructionist

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nikandrros · 1 year

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Okay, I'm gonna go a little

but hear me out:

If Melinoe is the ghost goddess/chthonic nymph and has the same hair color as Persephone, and following the Melinoe hymn it's said that "whom revered Persephone bore by the mouth of the Kokytos river", I'm betting money on the fact that she was born just after Zagreus, but since Mel was... you know, phantom-like:

Persephone could not just leave her to be or get back to the Underworld, so I'm theorizing she did the second best thing: leave Melinoe with someone else who was more apt to take care of her, someone like...

since Melinoe was called a, you know:

and she also calls the new big mommy Headmistress, so if I'm theorizing right said headmistress could either be Hecate, Circe, or Medea. Circe is a good option because of her island, which is somewhere the teaser seems to be happening at? Or a garden of some kind, or Olympus garden for all that I know because Chronos got himself free and brought war upon the Olympians, and on that note, I would like to point out that this place can very much be Poseidon's domain:

Some other things that I would LOVE to point out:

This guy is a son of Nyx. He's Thanatos and Hypnos' brother.

Nemesis is also a daughter of Nyx and it's said in canon. Also: LOOK AT THE FUCKING SWORD.

And Supegiant said in the Steam intro that:

"Infuse your legendary weapons of Night with ancient magick, so that none may stand in your way. Become stronger still with powerful Boons from more than a dozen Olympian gods, from Apollo to Zeus. There are nearly limitless ways to build your abilities. Meet a cast of dozens of fully-voiced, larger-than-life characters, including plenty of new faces and some old friends. Grow closer to them through a variety of new interactions, and experience countless unique story events based on how your journey unfolds."

Can we expect Hera, Hephaestus, and Hestia? Because we already got this gay- I mean, guy.

Halfway through this, I was like "ok but the headmistress dress like Charon so it would be pretty fucking funny if it was just Nyx with a hat" and this thought does have some credibility bc:

I MEAN??? LOL I MIGHT BE WRONG BUT I ALSO MIGHT BE RIGHT?? I think two chthonic gods in a trench coat are not too far-fetched for Hades' standards

(Will she be a boss? Will Chronos be a boss? WILL CHRONOS STOP TIME JUST AS HADES GOT INVISIBLE?)

AND YOU CAN PET THE FROG, THIS IS REALLY IMPORTANT (its name might be Frino, because it was the name of the file when I got it from Steam).

And who do you think this red-caped dude is? My friend is betting her money on Odysseus and Jason.

And I would like to finish this madness with the fact that since Chronos is fucking shit up and Hades is trapped inside a BDSM dungeon like this

Zagreus is probably doing what he hates most in this whole wide world: the desk job LOL GET FUCKED ZAG

AND GO WATCH THE ANIMATED TRAILER

#hades #hades 2 #hades supergiant #hades 2 supergiant #hades game #supergiant games

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captainsophiestark · 2 months

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The Hard Call

Azriel x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Requeted by Anon! Nonnie, thank you for enabling me to write about Az and Flynn, I absolutely love you for it ❤️ Feel free to drop by any time you want to talk anything SJM-related! Hope you like this, and good news, I have a Flynn fic coming in the next couple days too!

Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses

Summary: Azriel made the hard call when he had to, but he's feeling pretty guilty about it.

Word Count: 1,610

Category: Angst, Fluff

WARNING: House of Flame and Shadow spoilers below the cut!

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I swore under my breath as Nesta jammed Ataraxia into the back of the Daglan, the Asteri, whatever it was called. Black blood spurted out of its mouth, but a moment later, the thing—Vesperus—pushed back against the tip of the blade and removed it from her chest. It shouldn't have been possible for something to survive a direct hit like that from Nesta and that sword, but a lot of things from the past few days shouldn't have been possible.

When a fae female had landed in a heap on the River House lawn in front of my mate, I knew we were in for some strange new challenges. But never in a million years could I have predicted the journey she'd led us on through tunnels apparently running all under the Night Court, straight into the heart of the Prison. And now we were facing down one of the most dangerous creatures in the universe, just me, Az, and Nesta, with the female Bryce as an unreliable additional ally.

I tightened my grip on my sword and tried to calm my racing heart as I stood shoulder to shoulder with Azriel. We'd gotten through countless life and death situations together before, but for the first time in a long time, I wasn't sure we'd be able to get out of this one.

Vesperus gave Nesta a horrifying smile as the wound in her chest quickly healed. I glanced to Az, but he kept his eyes locked on the monster before us.

"Ataraxia didn't work," Nesta breathed. "The Trove-"

"Do not summon the Trove," barked my mate. Based on what we knew about this thing before us, I immediately agreed. "Don't bring it near her."

"But-"

"Not even for our lives," he snarled, leaving no room for argument. The same harsh resolve solidified itself in my mind, and I braced myself for the possibility of a last stand. At least if we went down, it would be fighting side by side with my mate.

A flicker of shadows floating softly over my shoulders was the only indication that my mate felt the same. The Daglan grinned, and I got ready to pounce.

****************

Hours later, I sat slumped in my favorite chair in the Velaris townhouse, trying to recover from everything that had happened under the prison. We'd managed to kill the Daglan-Asteri, despite Bryce trying to question it, no matter the risk to our world. But she had gotten away in an impressive display of power, which meant her world's Asteri might have a chance at using her to find us.

Needless to say, when Az, Nesta, and I had made it out of the Prison, we'd had a lot to debrief about with the rest of the Inner Circle.

Nobody was happy about the situation we now found ourselves in, but for the time being, there was also nothing we could do about it. So once we made a basic plan to try to gather information and prepare in case something from that other world came back, we all split off for our separate tasks. Az still had a few things to go over with Rhys, but I was free for the time being, so I'd come to my favorite cozy spot in Velaris to try to come down from the insane adrenaline that had been pumping since Bryce got here.

One perk of Rhys and Feyre building the River House and Nesta keeping Cassian at the House of Wind more often was that the townhouse, my personal favorite location, was often free for Az and I to use as our own. I closed my eyes in my favorite armchair by the fire, still in my fighting leathers, and focused on taking deep breaths to try to get the tension out of my shoulders.

I'd actually almost managed to drift off to sleep when I heard the front door open and shut heavily. I didn't need to look to know Az had just arrived, so with a deep sigh to drag me back from the edge of sleep, I raised my head and turned to look at my mate.

"Everything figured out with Rhys?" I asked. He nodded once, moving into the room with a face like stone. I frowned, sitting up and paying a little better attention as he took a seat on the couch, his gorgeous hazel eyes never leaving mine. "What's wrong?"

A muscle in Az's jaw ticked, and I knew he was mustering a response to my words. Despite his reputation as the unreadable spymaster, all our time together as friends and then as mates had given me a leg up on everyone else who tried to read his expressions.

I stood from my seat in the armchair and moved to sit before Az on the couch instead, taking his hands in mine. His eyes searched my face, and I let a small smile work its way through the exhaustion, trying to put him at ease. He could take however long he needed to, and I'd be ready to listen when he wanted to talk.

"I'm... sorry."

I raised an eyebrow. "For what, exactly?"

That muscle in his jaw was working over time, the rest of his face the same inscrutable mask he'd worked so hard to perfect.

"For what happened in the Prison. For... being willing to let you die down there, rather than risk Nesta summoning the Trove. You deserve a better mate than that."

My jaw dropped, shock preventing me from responding for a few small moments. Az just kept staring at me, and even though his face didn't show it, I could feel the guilt eating him up at his core.

"Az, you have nothing to apologize for!" I finally managed. One of his eyebrows quirked up and he frowned, expressing doubt at my words without speaking one of his own. I huffed and squeezed his hands tighter.

"Listen to me, Azriel. The reason you are my mate is because you made that decision in the Prison. We both know that letting something like that into the world with a weapon like the Mask is an unacceptable option, as long as there is anything in this world we can do to prevent it. If the Daglan or the Asteri or whatever she was had gotten her hands on the mask, it probably would've cost the lives of everyone we've ever cared about, and the rest of this world along with it. Nothing is worth allowing that to happen."

Az ground his jaw, his gaze softening and his eyebrows furrowing as he continued to scan my face.

"Are you... sure? Cassian and Rhys... I think they'd tear the world to shreds for their mates."

I just shrugged. "For what? If the world is gone, if the cost of that choice is absolutely everything else, then what's the point of saving each other in the first place? We'd have nothing left, other than the blood of the world on our hands."

Az grunted, and I shifted closer to him, bringing one hand up to cup his cheek.

"Az. I love you, so much, and a part of that love is because you're not so selfish as to risk throwing the world away for me. Especially since, more likely than not, we'd be dead anyway not long after she got that mask. Neither of us is selfish enough to make a call like that, and I love that about us. The only thing that matters is that we stand together as long as we can, and I knew damn well in the cave that if either of us was going down, we were going down side by side, fighting to our last breath. Obviously I'm happy we both made it out of there, and I'm not saying we shouldn't fight for each other, but that call you made today? I'd be pissed if you'd made a different one."

Az studied me for another second, and I let him see every truth and emotion written in my face. Finally, he sighed, the tension going out of his shoulders as he reached out and pulled me closer to him, arms around my waist. I smiled, wrapping my arms around his neck and tangling my hands in his hair. We'd almost died today, and I wasn't about to take the fact that we were both still here together for granted.

"Have I mentioned lately how happy I am to have you as my mate?" Az asked, his voice a little gravelly as he leaned in closer to me. I smiled, leaning forward and letting my lips ghost over his own.

"Yeah, actually, you have. But I'll never complain about hearing it again."

Az smirked, then gently closed the last of that distance between us, his lips brushing softly against mine. I leaned into the kiss, eager for more contact, and I could feel Az's smirk widening right before I deepened the kiss. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me as tight to his body as possible, and I tangled my hands in his hair, letting myself get swept up in him.

I'd meant every word I'd said to my mate, about the choice he'd made and how I felt about it. But I was also incredibly happy it hadn't come down to the cost of our lives, and that we'd made it out of there together. And now that Official Night Court Business had been taken care of, I intended to fully celebrate and appreciate Azriel, and the fact that we were still here together. And I knew he intended to do the same.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

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darkdemeter · 3 months

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AUGURIES OF LOVE & DYNASTY

The DARK DEMETER WRITING CATALOGUE, WANDA MAXIMOFF COLUMN (ONESHOT) #4 —

—- not my gifs, credit to original posters! -—

Wanda Maximoff x Werewolf! GN/Female/Male Reader

A/N — Another little smut trial for you guys and the pup/family dynamic, most of all I'm testing out my strengths and weaknesses and what my limitations are; and if they can maybe be improved on. GN smut is rather tricky for me to really get into the groove of if I'm being honest. That doesn't mean I'll stop writing for GN entirely but I may have to find a work around. Not only that but I fucking LOVE writing the angst, hardened wolf most of all with Wanda. Fuckin' love the angst and shit... so soft stuff like this is kinda a small bone in the mix but my main go to is the more hurt and angst genre, that and the tension, the build up for me is just *chef kiss*. But little a/n rant over. Enjoy!

WORD COUNT — 2.9k

READER DISCRETION — fluff content — wolf family and pups — pregnant Wanda — SLIGHT SMUT 18+, MINORS DNI* — clawed fingering — sliver of breeding or pregnancy kink? — remote location — minor and implied torture and stuff (left to reader's interpretation) — mention of scars — profanity — use of Y/N — named pups — I think that's it?

SUMMARY — Another morning rises over the snowy peaks. Your home in the wilds is peaceful and undisturbed. This winter, your first litter of pups are eager to begin to live as the young wolves of your dynasty. Meanwhile, Wanda happily carries your second litter.

Your very heart beats in time with the earth, each heavy footfall of the paw echoes beneath. Your blood runs alongside the rushing current of rivers. The chill of snow sinking under your weight feels familiar in contrast to unclean pavement.

Sunlight bleeds over yonder just beyond the snowy mountain peaks. The amber glow of its rays paint an overlay over the blue and black tinted landscape littered with white. Branches above shiver in the breath of winter and birds chirp amongst each other, calling out in the early morning. You stalk the hidden and unmarked path now all knowing of where it leads you. When another breeze sweeps across the river beds below, its chill runs along the fur of your back with a hollow greeting.

Still, you continue to walk at your own leisure, enjoying the pleasantries of the wilds offered to you. Sanctuary is a place where one feels safe, away from the harms of the world beyond. Everywhere you have been there have been many great dangers. It was high time to return home to that sanctuary and your loved ones with you.

Your fur is dotted with a feathered dusting of white flakes, the shift in your weight occasionally shakes your coat to a near-cleansed appearance. Your long tail sways in motion to your movement, every so often lifting when a pair of small, sharp teeth graze it in hopes to play.

The pitter patter follow behind you with adoring loyalty and familiarity, your station the highest ranking, one earnt of respect and reverence since day one.

But still, there remains the habit of play. To take in the world around them, piece by piece; gathered in their clutches of their curious, short muzzles.

In your journey to scout out the territory you take a minute to admire the scenery, a specular luxury granted to you for your unwavering protection to the land. You stand atop the lifted rise of dark stone layered and moulded together by the force of nature. A perfect spot to use as a vantage point.

Your cluster of pups, the first litter of many to come, whine and yelp together in their time of playing, small paws scraping across the hardened surface. Keena and Leo engage one another in a mock fight. Their teeth pulling and tugging each other by the scruff and ears, Leo barks in retaliation when Keena becomes a little too rough.

With a snort, Keena wanders closer to you whilst Leo is entertained by his other siblings. Curious as Keena was to find whatever it was that grasped hold of your attention, there is still much to see, to smell and explore. She devises a plan and bows her body in preparation, tail wagging from side to side when your lips curl up in warning. A rumble bellows from the cavity of your large chest, steam clouds across your dark nose.

Keena’s plans are disrupted and with a tucked tail, she submits and sits between the pillars of your front limbs. Not too long are the remainder of your pups under your protective stature but with a summoning huff, you beckon them to follow after you.

They’re still new to the changes of their wolf bodies, uneven on their paws as they keep their best of balance, tricky as it might be. You sure don’t make it look easy but the grace of your form inspires them to not give in. They’re determined to share this side of their bloodline with you.

To be as steady as you, as dangerously graceful and practised as you.

The sun shines higher now and the world has grown a tad bit warmer, if only a little. That doesn’t mean your pups still endure the cold without sacrifice, shivering with a series of pitiful whines of complaint. But they have the heat of your body to thank for warming them during the trek back home, their small bodies lined down your back, nuzzling further into the thicket of your winter coat with content sighs.

They fared better this time around before the tiredness in their bodies wore them down.

You near the wooden refuge you call den and with a newfound surge of eagerness, your pups leap from the towering height of your back and race for the front door. Keena is the first to change back and pound her small fists on the door with utter demand that the door be opened, yet unable to reach the doorknob herself.

When you reach the pile up of your offspring waiting impatiently at the door, having now shifted back into the second skin not covered in fur, you reach forward and push the door open for them. Relieved to be out of the cold they charge into the house and down the stretch of hallway.

“Mama! Mama!” They bark and yell, the beckoned person answering their cries exits the kitchen. Her green eyes meet them with a light akin to a lighthouse, bright and burning in the lone distant night to call them home.

Her wide smile stretched open to reveal the row of pearly white teeth assures them that their mother’s love sparks ever true, no matter the time nor place, that their eagerness for her attention remains just the same as any other.

“My pups,” she greets softly. She bends down to meet them, arms warm and inviting to her embrace. Leo snuggles tightly against her chest when Keena tugs at the nape of his neck. “Careful! Our siblings are in her tummy.”

Truer words had never been spoken by one of your young ones. The second litter of your dynasty resides safe and snug in the large bulb of Wanda’s womb, nursing them until their eventual birth into the pack.

“Did you enjoy yourselves?” Their mother asks them, focusing one each of their round, devoted eyes that marvel her loving gaze. She made each of them feel equally special. They nod and hum, undoubtedly smiling from ear to ear as she entertains them.

You linger back in the hallway to simply take in the picturesque of it all as your pups recount their adventure with you this morning. The smile of your wife is oh so sweet, a sculpted visage of unmatched beauty to beat against your brutality.

Often you do as you’re doing now. Sit back and observe your family. The intimate nature of mother and pups is always a favoured sight of yours, how tender she caters to them and how they bask in the wonderment of their mother; the woman who gave them life and brought them into the world through darkness and pain.

She endured the months of labour for them. Forever, a mark of her true strength and courage and pure love.

All you simply do is admire and love her in return, despite it being incapable of comparison. She carried the first litter without complaint or regret and she’s a soldier for the second litter. Unfazed by the barrage of kicks and movement within the womb, pups fighting for room amidst their growth.

Truly a marvel. A woman who you happily call wife and mate. Your arms fold over your chest, the corners of your lips tilted up as you continue to observe from afar. That’s when Wanda’s eyes finally meet yours and that hunger within the glaze of green ignites your own. You growl deeply under your next exhaled breath.

‘The moment I get you alone…’

Wanda smirks at you with a cheeky glint you know well, but her attention is stolen by your pups once again. She rises to her feet, hands held to her large bump, she beckons the pups to sit at the dining table. You don’t miss the flash of scarlet warning you that your presence is mandatory.

With a submissive shrug to her silent order you follow behind. But you pause just as you pass one of the frames, reflection faint in the glass. Your eyes scan the faces of those you left back in the city for your remote life with Wanda in the wilds of your sanctuary. They were not forgotten nor were they truly left behind in the past forever. You plan to visit them sometime and vice versa, but plans become muddled and complicated in the matter of saving the world.

A feat that took its hefty toll on you. Never one to consider yourself the type to retire, it was for the best. There, the wolf was caged to fight, moving from one fight to the next it seemed or to be confined in a cell; seen as an animal unworthy of complete trust.

The ring of skin around your neck is still marred in its process to heal. For how much longer is undetermined but the pain tied to it left you no choice but to resign yourself to the wilds of home.

And Wanda would come with you.

Now here you are, sitting around the table together as Wanda fixes you both your morning coffees while your children devour their plates in record time, their mother scolding them to chew their breakfast. Keena’s face had already been stained with the sticky substance of syrup from her pancakes, Leo and Tymon opting to race each other while eating their cereal and the youngest of their litter, Peeta munches on a piece of buttered toast.

You never really had an appetite in the winter morning - if you didn’t count Wanda that is - you often kept to a simple coffee to be your wake up call. Wanda’s lips meet your hairline for a quick, affectionate peck, hand sliding your mug onto the table. But you have other plans. With a husky growl you pull her into your lap.

“Y/N!” she yelps in surprise. Her laugh fills the room as a joyful prophecy. Your pups cannot contain their own comings of laughter as well at the loving sight of their parents sharing in one another’s orbit for a short moment.

Wanda swats at you with a hand but you remain adamant she stays in your lap. “I have dishes to wash up,” she argues only for you to shake your head, nose nestling her mark. “We can do that together afterwards. Let me hold you a while.”

How can she resist your wolfish charms? You purr in your victory when Wanda gives in, knowing just how much she loves it deep down; to be held in your protective arms and your exploring hands wandering over the curve of her bump.

You feel the pups kick and push against the wall of her womb to greet your hands. Their desire to touch grows stronger by the day, it was due to happen any day now.

Wanda sighs softly and you join her in watching your pups eat together, talking amongst themselves for their planned activities for the day. Wanda’s hands fall over the top of yours and her fingers dance over the cool surface of your wedding band.

The overly large size of her winter sweater leaves the skin of her shoulder exposed for your lips to ghost across it, causing a shiver to run the length of her spine.

“You’re getting me excited,” she whispers to you and your smirk, fangs speaking over the bottom of your lip. “Good. Just how I want you, Honey.”

Wanda pushes her body against yours in the midst of her battling desire, the action screaming desperation. And you weren’t one to refuse your wife - your mate - her pleasure. After all, she was carrying your pups. Your successors.

Your dynasty.

“Tell me what you want, mate,” you say against her lips. The kiss is heated and messy, tongues mingling together in the hot throw of combined passion. She whines softly and the sound causes your hips to jerk forward.

“I want you…” you devour her words with a hungering growl. “I want you to touch me, please…”

There it was. She misses your touch. Exactly what you wanted to hear. Parting your lips from the kiss you chuckle, the sound dark and dangerous in your infatuation with the woman under you.

“Good girl.”

Your fingers brush up her exposed thigh, her little maternal dress doing things to your wolf brain that made it go haywire with unbridled, primal desire. With a groan you push aside the damp fabric of her panties and use your thumb to circle her clit.

The quiver in her legs a telltale sign of her weakness for your touch, leaving her to turn into putty and you’d only just begun. “Is this what you wanted, mate? You wanted my fingers to be buried in you?” You taunt.

“Please.” She continues to beg. You tilt you head, obvious in your torture to hear her beg for more, for what she craved.

“Please what?”

“I want your fingers inside me, oh fuck, please!”

Shit, her sounds are music to your ears. You use two fingers to smear the slick of her arousal along her awaiting entrance, her hips grinding with enthusiastic vigour.

“Fuck, you look so good like this, baby. So needy for me.”

She mewls in response to your fingers teasing her cunt. She wants to feel your fingers stuffing her full, ploughing her tight tunnel until you’re all three knuckle deep fucking her. She wants to cum around your clawed fingers, to feel that dangerous and sharp coil that leads her right over the edge of bliss.

The pools of her euphoria by your ministrations await her.

“Let me feel your claws.”

“Oh, Sweetheart,” you drawl lowly, “I love it when you ask for the claws.”

You waste no more time. You push two fingers past her folds, her walls wet and welcoming and hot; tightly wrapped around your clawed digits. She moans sharply and her head leans back into the pillow. You thrust your fingers at a steady pace. You ensure that you reach the very end of your knuckles to reach as far as you’re able, your claws gently scrape her spongy walls, dragging moans from deep within her core.

Wanda moans again when your fingers brush that sensitive, deep spot, her hips buck up to meet the next thrust of your hand in hopes of reaching it again. You chuckle again at the pure, chaotic need in her eyes that plead for you.

“You want to cum around my fingers, mate?”

“Y-yes!” she can feel it in her core, the rubberband ready to snap with her climactic high. “Please, Y/N, please let me cum.”

“Go on, Sweetheart. Cum for me.” Her mouth falls apart just as she does around your thrusting digits, her teeth sink into the plush bottom of her lip to conceal the volume of her pleasured cries. Her fingers ring the sheets in an iron grip until she’s threatening to tear them apart.

You whisper soft praises against the skin of her cheek with a smirk. Nobody knew the gorgeous visage of her face when she came, only you and that was a sight you’d treasure to the end of time. Nobody else would bear witness to the way her body silently begs for you, how she grinds and thrusts her hips in response to your electric touch.

She breathes in deeply through her nose while you slow your fingers down, dragging her high out that little bit longer until you bring a complete stop. Fuck, how her swollen form looked utterly beautiful in the sunlit curtain of day, eyes clouded in their post-sex state, you slide a hand over the curve of her belly.

“You look so beautiful like this,” you sigh with a wistful look, “so full of my pups.” Wanda can see the excitement grow in your eyes, that glow of amber unable to be hidden when your desire becomes well known.

“Your pups,” she says in agreement. You hear the lust in her tone, the want for more evident.

“Oh, little witch.” Wanda could’ve sworn she could cum again just from hearing your husky, lust-laced voice use the nickname. You lean over her until she is pinned between you and the bed; the two greatest comforts she could ever know.

She smiles shyly up at you. “So fucking beautiful, so round with my pups. Our second litter.” She moans softly and her hands run through the mused length of your hair as you ravish her neck with love bites. The sensation tickles but once your teeth graze over her mark, her legs quiver together before they lock around your hips, already pulling you down to where you both connect so perfectly.

“Fuck, I need you.”

“And I’ll give it to you.”

Before you can begin to tug down the waistband of your pants does Wanda stop you. Your amber hues glow brightly in interest to her sudden need to halt the sensual operation. You hum to her softly to urge her to continue.

“I… I thought maybe we could try something a little different,” she says, biting her lip harder this time. Okay, now you’re fucking curious. “What is it?”

She takes a moment and you see the hesitance in her eyes. She’s reconsidering saying anything but you lift her unsure eyes to meet yours. You offer a kind smile, one that she knows she can trust without fear, that you are on her side; always.

“Whatever it is, I’m game.”

That’s all the remaining push she needs from you to ask.

Thank you for Reading! (◕ ᴥ x)

TREEHOUSE TAGLIST —

@alexawynters

#marvel #female reader #gn reader #male reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x werewolf! reader #wanda x reader #werewolf reader #wanda x werewolf! reader smut #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff fluff #werewolf #marvel mcu #treehouse taglist #the dark demeter writing catalogue

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sugar-plum-writer · 3 months

Text

A Heian Era Affair

Paring: GojoSatrou!ModernEra x FemReader!HeianEra! Tags: Fem!Reader; Gojo!imagines; slight!mention of violence; 18+ as more chapters come; slow burn [I want to have a good build up~ just like my Sukuna series fic~]; An ancient Japan romance through time with reader Text: Gojo ends up in the Heian Era through unknown reason (will be reveled later on) and meets reader and hence journey begins both of adventure and romance~ [If you all like it, please heart and reblog the post! to know you want to read more~ and follow for chapter updates! or leave a comment to tag you when I put out new chapters~ I will do my best to roll out UPDATES ASAP!]

CHAPTER - 1

The bamboo trees rustled as the cool wind blew, almost hauntingly as if carrying a message from another side of the world. Wiping your sweat with a ragged cloth, you stumbled and walked while carrying a bucket of water to your old wooden house.

It was hard to make a living, the minister of your area was evil, exploiting the people to death, and raising taxes beyond what people could pay. It was a nightmare- no worse at least you could wake up from nightmares but what about reality? can you wake up from it?

Sometimes you wanted to barge in and rip his head off. Too bad you could not, the guards were too strong, and with your strength you doubt you could ever survive.

Sighing, you returned to the river to fill your bucket again.

You had just bent over when a strong gust of wind started blowing out from nowhere, the trees shrieked as the water rippled- throwing you back 10 feet away with a slam- making you hit a tree. The sharp pain made your back go numb. As you tried to get up staggering- the wind kicked up a notch increasing it's speed and power like a cyclone. Your eyes widened in horror as you looked at what was happening- a big black hole appeared in the middle of the river; with water distorting around it and floating up defying gravity.

"What on-"

Before your brain could comprehend what just happened, a white-haired man flew out of the hole towards you, slamming into you-

Bang

Opening your eyes, you tried to get up, but- found the man on top of you, your legs intertwined together, he groaned as he tried to stand

"Ugh"

His voice was deep causing you to freeze a moment, but you came back to your senses and pushed him off

"Who are you!? You demon!" you screamed as you looked at him

"Me? Ah I am Gojo Satoru and no I am no demon, it's the first someone has called me a demon! sure I might be tall but it does not mean I am a demon haha~" he smiled as he looked at you helping you stand up

"What-!? but you j-"

"Do you know where this is? I am a bit in a hurry"

"This is Mizushima village…."

He paused

"What?…. since when did we have a Mizushima village in Japan? Isn't Mizushima an Island!? which prefecture even is this?"

"Prefecture? Our village is part of the Minamoto Clan on the West side"

He paused longer this time

"Minamoto Clan?…"

"Yeah"

"eh?" he froze as he cocked his head to the side

"For real?"

"Yeah"

"I….what-what era is this?" his voice trembled a bit

"This is the Heian Era…the year is 1185…" You looked at him as he stood grounded on the spot contemplating the meaning of his life

Now that you observed him, he was wearing weird clothing the fabric was also very different from what you had ever seen, it was so smooth and very different from cotton- almost otherworldly

"Is he a noble? from Heian-kyo?", you thought to yourself and backed away a bit

"I am…1000 years in the past oh shit"

"Shit? What does it mean? which part are you from? your Japanese is very weird" You looked at him even more confused, even his accent was weird and some words he used were different

"Ah…." he looked at you struggling to explain

"You see…I am from the future more than 1000 years from the future, I know it sounds absurd but..it is the truth" he looked at you seriously meaning every word he said

"Huh? What-what bullshit are you saying? Are you a psycho? possessed?" you looked at him bewildered

"What is bullshit?" he looked at you confused

"I-I am leaving; good day to you, to ask what bullshit means I- you should find a priest" Picking up your bucket you hurried away wondering why you always met weirdos

"Wait-!" he yelled but you turned deaf to his words and ran as fast as your feet allowed you to.

You ran as fast as you could but he appeared in front of you almost like magic

"Please listen to me! I am not lying!!" he grabbed you by the shoulders frantically

"I really am from the future!"

"You freak let go of me!! AHHHHH!" you punched him doing little to no damage and screaming

This continued for some time, you running and him teleporting wherever you were it went on for a few hours and soon both of you sat panting on the ground

"Man…you sure got some stamina.." he wiped the sweat off his forehead simultaneously removing the blindfold

You froze- his eyes- were breathtaking; looking into them your heart exploded like fireworks, so serene, it felt like you were looking at the sky itself. You had never seen such eyes ever

How can someone be this good-looking?

"What? too captive by my looks~ Ah I guess even in the Heian Era I am attractive~" he leaned in with a smirk causing you to look away blushing crimson

"Who would!? you demon! Get away!"

He pouted a bit disappointed

"H…How do I believe you are from the future? And your powers? What are you?"

"I am a sorcerer from the Gojo Clan and…as for how I am from the future…" he scratched his head

"Got it!"

He smirked and took out a weird looking box and opened it

"Here try some, I bet you have never eaten something like this! It is a cheesecake that too from a very famous shop"

With swift movement from his hands, he put the cake in your hands, its scent was sweet, it was jiggly- even a bit liquid-y making you wonder if it was poison

"You...you sure humans can eat this?" your hands trembled as you held the plate

"Yes, it is! here~" he took the fork in his hands and ate a small bite of the cake- grinning

"Ah it really is good~"

Seeing him eat it and look so elated you also wanted a bite- how bad could it be? with a gulp and sharp breath you took a bite- a bite so good it made your eyes light up-

The flavor was exploding in your mouth, it had a rich and creamy flavor with a slightly tangy and sweet taste. The texture was smooth and dense melting in your mouth it felt like heaven.

"It must be so expensive....even in death I doubt I could eat something like this.."

He paused for a moment but then a smile crept up his lips

"Eh it was nothing just enjoy~" he winked

"You should see your reaction~ now that's a nice expression! It makes me wonder what other reactions you can make if I gave you other things~" smirking he leaned in his breath inches away from yours

"So...Do you believe me now?"

"....Yeah" nodding you took another bite

"Yay! Thank you~ please look after me from now on~"

[Link to my master list~ enjoy!]

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undiscovered-horizon · 5 months

Note

Hello Sofia! My name is Aleksandra! Just wanted to send a request of Zoro x reader where reader has just joined the crew she is a witch and very strong, sweet, but could be intense (in a good way) as well as mysterious everyone in the crew absolutely loves her but it takes time for Zoro to completely trust her so he keeps his eye on her causing them both to have some tension some days they are arguing over tiny situations some days they are sitting alone together laughing and smiling at one another with feelings building up that they have yet to understand even though they are confused with their feelings their connection runs deeply to the point it drives them insane everyone else in the crew see's this (Besides our dear Luffy.) They try to get them to open up but it's hopeless at times. I was thinking Zoro gets a deep cut during a fight and Reader helps him with his wound this is where they are able to share their feelings and once they deeply kiss they understand how they feel from there.

I hope this is a good one to do! Thank you!✨🌻✨

I would love to be tagged at!💜 @shewalksinanotherworld

This took a little bit longer and I have nothing to say for myself except that my executive function does not, in fact, function. Enjoy! @shewalksinanotherworld Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi | Have a request?

"The way to a man's heart" - Zoro x Reader

[graphic descriptions of open wounds]

Somebody once said that love and hate are two sides of the same coin - a token of devotion. Like tides of two seas that create storms and whirlpools upon meeting, it is often impossible to determine where one ends and the other begins. Perhaps, these waters have never differed as they are two ends of one river. Both lovers and enemies alike make up the first row of the funeral cortege.

And just like those seas, no matter whether they are the same or two different bodies, Zoro and you seem to be ebbing and flowing across love and hate. Flipping the coin of dedication each day to see where your tense relationship will take you. Sometimes more than once a day, when mere hours separate passionate fights from merry laughter.

But speaking of turning tides and seamlessly flowing waters, wouldn't the seas know each other far too well? What constitutes oceans of hate was once the pond of love. Conversely, the waters of affection had once flown as tides of enmity. If the answer is yes, it would explain quite a lot about the rather inexplicable connection you share with the swordsman. Sometimes not a word has to be spoken but a fleeting gaze exchange for either of you to know perfectly well what the other has on their mind.

To be fair, it's hard for you to put your finger on the why - Why are you and Zoro so strange with each other? The most plausible explanation would probably be his stubborn distrust. He's a very guarded person which, by itself, is not unfathomable considering his journey and livelihood. But it is absolutely tedious when he sticks to his guns against all available evidence. Weeks went by when Zoro was the only crewmember who perceived you in different shades of suspicion, even after witnessing you put your life on the line for your mutual friends. His stubbornness was frustrating, so you gave him as good as you got and well... Here we are, wading in the murky waters of passion, both pleasant and adverse.

However, you'll be wading much different waters, those flowing in the Styx River, if you don't escape now. The Indigo Cross pirates are a little too close behind you. You can almost feel their breaths on your neck as they scream about revenge, bloodshed and defending their captain's honour. Yes, about that... It wasn't exactly Luffy's fault that the man he told to apologize to the tavern waitress was the world's most narcissistic pirate. Alas, the damage is done and so is your chance at a peaceful shore leave.

The Merry Go is but a few meters away. You just have to get to the gangway and run up the stairs so fast your mother would go bald from stress. Just two things, right?

Your foot gets caught the between rotting planks of the pier. The unforeseen obstacle in your escape startles you, giving you barely any time to shield your face from the painful impact of the ground.

"Shit!" you groan to yourself, yanking your foot.

Zoro yells out your name. In long strides, he catches up with you. He manages to rip away one of the mould-covered planks. Despite your foot being set free, the man lifts you to stand on your own.

"You go, I'll hold them back," he orders you as he nudges you in the direction of the ship. Before you can defy him, Zoro is already running towards the oncoming wave of looking-for-a-scrap pirates.

Time seems to slow down as you watch a spear, its polished head shining in the sunlight, fly through the air and pierce Zoro's chest. He stumbles backwards and falls on one knee. With a roar of agony, the swordsman grabs the long shaft of the weapon. A loud snap fills the air as he breaks the wood off. Then, like a phoenix rising from the ashes,, Zoro stands up. Although his legs tremble slightly, he still lifts his swords and fights off the Indigo pirates. Some seem to drop their weapons in surrender, seeing that not even death can grasp this demon of a man.

You want to call for him but Sanji firmly grabs your arm and pulls you on board. "Come on, he can handle himself."

Having hidden on the lower deck, you're not sure what happened on the shore and onboard the ship until you saw none other but Roronoa Zoro, stumbling down the stairs and almost falling on the floor. Luffy, Usopp and even Sanji yell and nag at him to get his wound looked at while Nami keeps calling him different variations of "stupid" but Zoro only curses at them and tells a less savoury "Leave me alone".

Maybe thirty minutes pass by until the emotions die down or are at least well hidden. Your four friends sit around the kitchen, all strangely silent. They all give you a curious look when you let out a heavy sigh and march towards Zoro's room. He's going to die one day, obviously, but it's not going to be today. And definitely not because he put your safety before his own. What kind of rom-com death would that be?

Zoro is facing you with his back when you swing the door open without even knocking first. You seem to have interrupted his rather poor attempt at bandaging the hole in his chest. He looks over his shoulder, his face bearing an expression of annoyance.

"What do you want?"

You toss a handful of medical supplies on top of the chest with his belongings. The fresh dressings, a small bottle of alcohol, a needle and a thread tell quite the story, lying next to the bloodied head of a spear with splinters coming out of where the long shaft should be. It's still hardly believable what he did back there.

"When you get an infection, you green-haired idiot," you speak with your hands crossed on your chest. It's clear as day - you're pissed off, "it will be Sanji spoon-feeding you. I'm sure you'll be having the time of your life then."

Your sarcastic remark doesn't seem to phase him. The wrinkle between Zoro's eyebrows only gets deeper.

"I'm fine. I've been worse," he says with an exasperated sigh. "Just piss off," the man groans in a low voice.

Maybe if he wasn't already injured, you'd punch him straight in the jaw. "Stop being a stubborn ass," you raise your voice, "and let me help you."

Zoro rolls his eyes dramatically. Making a show of his discontentment, he sits on the edge of his hammock. If he was just a few yours younger maybe he'd stomp his feet too, as befits a toddler he seems to have chosen to act like.

Minutes go by in silence as you clean the deep would and do your best suturing it. Meanwhile, Zoro doesn't even wince. He's perfectly calm and collected, almost as though his soul has left his body and gone for a stroll.

By the looks of it, you haven't stitched wounds many times and Sanji would probably be better at this, with his experienced hands and all, but that would require Zoro to be either already dead or at least unconscious. There's no other way he'd willingly let those slimy fingers touch him.

“They say that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach," you say under your breath as you tighten the knot on the last suture. The last thing you want is the deep wound reopening. "I guess going through his ribs works too.”

"A lot more efficient." The swordsman chuckles but his laughter soon turns into winces and groans. Although he's not going to bleed to death anymore, the rather large hole in his chest is this painful and not something to trifle with.

"A spear nearly pierced right through you and you're having a laugh?" You nod with approval. He's impressed you, you have to give him that. "Roronoa Zoro, you command respect."

A silence falls between you again as you put back the collection of medical supplies you've managed to find aboard. Little do you know, Zoro's watchful gaze doesn't leave you. He seems to be intensely thinking about something.

"Thanks," he finally spits out. "I would rather die than let Sanji spoon-feed me."

It's not the wraith of death that scared him into letting you patch him up - it was the cook in a striped shirt. Really? Roronoa Zoro is a lot of things but "ordinary" or "predictable" is not one of them.

You burst into laughter. "Unfortunately," you manage to breathe out, "I would have loved to see that."

He shakes his head in disapproval but his lips are curved into a grin. "I hate you."

"No, you don't, big guy," you answer as you playfully poke his arm. It's still covered in dried blood and sweat.

His dark eyes stare into yours with a strange glint to them. It's almost like amusement but not entirely - it's deeper, much deeper. "Yeah, I don't," he whispers.

Everything happens so fast: Zoro grabs your neck and pulls you flush against himself, crashing his lips against yours. Involuntarily you yelp, which elicits a chuckle from the man. On one hand, you're surprised with his sudden declaration of passion but on the other hand, you're relieved. Of course, you have joked that Zoro must be in love with you to be so annoying most of the time but rarely did you consider it a real possibility. He just... didn't seem like a man who loves, only desires. But now, when he's kissing you so desperately and eagerly, you feel stupid for ever thinking such thoughts. As his hand roams your body, you begin to wonder whether all of this has always been this funny - every one of your friends already knew the feelings you had for each other, except the two of you. Something so obvious it's easily overlooked.

It makes you think that he was, actually, scared of losing but not his life. He was scared of losing someone.

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jenplayssims · 9 months

Text

Sims 4 “Oregon Trail” Challenge (BACC)

Inspired by playing Oregon Trail on the Switch recently with my family as well as the Homestead Challenge for Sims 2 by child_of_air, I wanted to create a historical build a community challenge (BACC) with references to the Oregon Trail game (ie, river crossings, death by illness, new pioneers arriving by wagon train, etc). The below are guidelines for play, many adapted from the Sims 2 challenge for use in Sims 4. Please consider these guidelines flexible and tweak them as you wish to fit your gameplay. This challenge was written with all packs in mind but can be played without them.

HUGE thanks to @antiquatedplumbobs for providing me valuable feedback and helping my idea really come to life! Also thanks to @cowplant-snacks for being a sounding board and providing feedback. This challenge wouldn’t be the same without either of their input and I am so grateful!

The Basic Rules

1. There is no electricity, no running water, and no access to technology that wasn’t invented prior to the 1850s. You may wish to utilize the lot trait “off the grid” to aid with this, but this is not essential. As long as the home, decor, and most behaviors of the sims matches the time period, how restrictive you choose to be in your gameplay is up to you. “Close enough” is ok for this challenge.

2. Each member of your wagon party has a backstory to their lives, and many of them are trying to escape from the confines of the restrictive social order or begin a new life. However, the items they take with them will be restricted to what their social rank was when they left. Space on the wagon is limited, and only the most precious items would be taken along. (More on items below)

3. At the start you will play your aspiring pioneer household as they journey by wagon to their destination, facing obstacles along the way. Once your pioneers arrive at their destination, they will all move into a boarding house with a host sim. Only the host household (which includes your first set of pioneers) will be played at this point. Once sims move out and begin their own homesteads, the neighborhood will be played in rotation. Each house will be played for 1 week (length of rotation of your choosing. 1 week is my recommendation).

4. Only the host or hostess at your destination will be able to have a job at first, which will be in politics. Everyone else will have to focus on developing their skills, adding to their hope chests, and preparing for their own homesteads. Sims cannot marry or move out of the boarding house until they have produced enough goods to begin their own homesteads.

5. Please note that your end destination does not have to resemble Oregon. The Oregon Trail game was simply an inspiration for this challenge.

Time

The concept of time passing is up to you. You may want to let the seasons dictate the years, or you may want to base your year around a biological marker, such as the sim age spans. Some may want to make their own metric for years (ie, 4 days = 1 year). You may choose to not bother with the passage of time at all. If you choose to advance the passage of time, you will need to keep track of advancing technology (I recommend Decades Challenge for inspiration). This challenge could be played as a prequel to the Decades Challenge.

Getting Started

1. Create your wagon train lot for your pioneers to live on as they travel to their new home. You can build this yourself or pull a lot from the gallery (my recommendation is Oregon Trail Camp by HistoricalSim). If building your own, this functional tent looks like a covered wagon - http://simfileshare.net/folder/183978/ kindly hosted by @cowplant-snacks, amazingly made functional by @superflare, original by inabadromance.

2. Host Sims and House - Before the pioneers’ journey is complete, you will need to create a host house and a host/hostess sim. (Note: This step can be done right at the start or can wait till their journey is almost over.) Create a host sim of your choosing. This will be the only sim in the initial household able to hold a job, which should be in politics. The host will be the one to hand out homestead deeds (though not literally). The wagon load of pioneers will begin their new life here as they gather supplies and build up their skills to qualify for a homestead of their own. Consider it a boarding house of sorts and build accordingly. You’ll want space for many sims as well as skilling/crafting items available for use.

3. Townies - Your game should have as few townies as possible to begin with as your first pioneers should be part of the town’s founding. You may use mods to prevent the game from spawning townies or you may create your own and use mods to make them fill the roles the game would normally spawn new sims for (mailperson, bartender, etc). You can also allow the game to spawn as it needs to and either ignore those sims or make them over to fit the historical context. (Note: The Sims 2 Homestead Challenge mentions creating Native people to serve as existing townies. This is up to the player)

4. Create your first wagon of settlers

a. Roll a dice to see how many are on the wagon (1-7, unless you use mods to increase the household sim limit). They can be teens-adults. If you want to roll for gender, age, traits, etc you may. You can start with a married couple or single sim if you wish, but keep in mind that not all sims are guaranteed to survive the journey so more sims may be better for this challenge.

b. For each sim, roll their socioeconomic background: This determines the quality and quantity of items each sim may have brought with them to begin their new life/homestead. Note: Sims 4 furniture is stored in the shared household inventory, so may want to roll and make note of this somewhere but not actually choose the items until the sim has moved to their own homestead.

1-2: Indentured Servant or Former Slave (2 Items, poor quality)

3-4: Lower Class (5 Items, poor quality)

5: Lower Middle Class (6 Items of poor quality and 3 items of medium quality)

6: Middle Class (10 items medium quality)

c. Likewise with animals - it stands to reason that some would have brought livestock or perhaps a pet with them, but as these won’t really come into play until the sim moves to their own land, you can decide what they have now and then add them later.

5. Move them into your wagon train lot and begin their journey!

Optional: You can use my save file as a starting point for this challenge. It contains a wagon camp (Oregon Trail Camp by HistoricalSim) placed in Willow Creek. It also has the calendar already set up to include events on the journey and holidays (more on the journey and calendar below). Host house and sims are not included. http://www.simfileshare.net/download/4024989/

The Journey:

Your wagon of pioneer sims will begin their journey in spring. Their goal is to reach their end destination before winter begins. The length of this stage is up to the player - you may want to drag out the survival struggle or you may want to zip through it quickly. The average time of travel was 150 days. I’ve included a sample calendar below from my save file. The Oregon Trail begins in Missouri and ends in Oregon, and typically took months to complete with many hardships along the way. Any sim who becomes sick while on the journey will need to have a dice rolled for their survival odds (even - they live, odd - they succumb to their illness and die along the trail unless they are within a day of a Fort where they can purchase medicine). Also along the way are 4 river crossings (Kansas, Big Blue, Green, Snake) as well as passage through the Blue Mountains near the end. There are also 4 random events in the spirit of the original Oregon Trail game. For each of the 5 major events (spaced however the player chooses), roll a dice for their odds of success.

1-3 unsuccessful attempt at crossing - roll to see which sim doesn’t make it

4-6 successful crossing - continue on

For the 4 random events on the calendar, roll a dice to determine which sim will be affected by the event. Roll the dice again for survival odds - if a 3 is rolled, your sim dies.

Once the events are completed, the wagon arrives at the boarding house and moves in temporarily until their own homestead can be secured.

The sample calendar below from my save file includes all 5 events spaced out as well as a couple of stops at Forts where supplies can be purchased (medicine, food if you’re playing using the Simple Living lot challenge). I also included 4 random events and a few holiday celebrations.

Optional: If you’d like to further simulate pioneers journeying across the country, you can move your pioneer sim household to wagon camps in different worlds with each river/mountain crossing. If you’re using my save file, use the numbered wagon train lots as listed below.

Recommended worlds to use:

Kansas/Big Blue River Crossings - #1 stay on original lot in Willow Creek

Green River Crossing - #2 Henford

Snake River Crossing - #3 Oasis Springs

Blue Mountains Crossing - #4 Copperdale

Homesteads:

In order to qualify for a homestead, sims must gain 4 skill points in 3 different skills (Baking, Cooking, Cross Stitch, Fishing, Fitness, Flower Arranging, Gardening, Gourmet Cooking, Guitar, Handiness, Herbalism, Horse Riding, Juice Fizzing, Knitting, Nectar Making, Painting, Piano, Pipe Organ, Violin, Writing) as well as meet the qualifications for homesteads below:

Basic Homestead: all skills obtained, $100 starting fund, 10 household wares

2 Bedroom Homestead: all skills obtained, $200 starting fund, 12 household wares

3 Bedroom Homestead: all skills obtained, $300 starting fund, 20 household wares

Middle Class Homestead: all skills obtained, $400 starting fund, 30 household wares

If sims decide to marry, they must each obtain the skills individually but can pool household wares and money to qualify for a homestead.

Since work is not allowed for the pioneers until they move out, they will need to grow and sell produce or create and sell crafted items to earn money. Items can be sold through their inventory for ease if desired. If using Chestnut Ridge as their town, items can also be sold at the General Store.

Household wares include what they rolled from earlier based on their socioeconomic backgrounds as well as anything they create while in the host house.

Note: if you choose to play with the Simple Living lot challenge turned on, you will also want your sims to bring some produce, canned goods, and possibly seeds with them to their homestead.

Once in their own homesteads, they can expand as they have funds and need or can move to a new lot.

Optional: When two homesteads have been established, you can build a Trading Post. This is where your sims can sell their wares through the sales tables available in Sims 4. A grocery stall from Cottage Living may also be placed. They can also sell items at the General Store in Chestnut Ridge.

If you prefer a lot from the Gallery, I highly recommend Old Western Township built by antiqueplumbobs (antiquated plumbobs : Western Township - Simblreen Gift #1 A CC-Free... (tumblr.com) It is perfect as a community lot for this challenge.

When all pioneer sims from the initial wagon have moved into their own homesteads, a second wagon of pioneers can be created and start their journey. As your initial sims have families of their own, you may choose to create families to journey to your town rather than individual sims. The second (and any future) wagon train households created will be played in rotation with the homestead households established by your original pioneers.

Careers:

Once on their own established homesteads, your sims can begin careers.

At home careers: farmer, orchard owner, florist, woodworker, dairy farm, llama farm, chicken farm, horse breeder, goat herder, sheep farmer, nectar maker, juice fizzer, herbalist

Careers in game: fisherman, manual laborer, gardener, painter, politician, writer, lawyer, doctor, teacher, criminal, entertainer (Note: I would suggest creating a specific sim to be the doctor to unlock medicine, creating a teacher to be part of a wagon train once your town begins to have infants/toddlers, etc - add the careers as it makes sense for your town, as most making this journey initially would have been farmers).

Optional careers:

Create a clergyman to perform marriage ceremonies among the settlers. Can add a fee to their household funds for each marriage performed, etc.

Add in custom careers, such as Fur Trader ( Peebs : Fur Trade Career | Original Career This career... (tumblr.com) )

That’s it! See how far your town can grow and advance as new settlers arrive but most importantly, have fun!

PDF link to rules

#sims 4 oregon trail challenge #historical challenge #historical bacc #jenplayssims

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