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diorcities · 7 months

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one of the girls

pairing: famous!haechan x afab!reader. genre: smut. content: manhandling, brat taming, o. denial, o. control, unprotected sex, clit stimulation, creampie, princess treatment, argument for pride, stubborn reader, mean!hyuck.

party halls. fancy cars. effervencent champagne. dazzling nights.

in a room full of men thinking important thoughts, he steals the show. flirtatious whispers coming his way. the sighs that his cut-out profile draws, smiling because he knows the effect he has on people. lots of broken hearts wherever he goes. except one. or ones; he is the embodiment of romanticing. looking from below with his bright wild eyes as he takes off your shoes and kisses your ankles before leaving you powerless because he knows the effect he has on you.

dribbling the crimson liquid into the glass, your eyes cascading over his silhouette at the other end of the room. inhaling the exquisite scent of the liquor. the lipstick traces the edge of the glass, reminiscent of the hue delicately unveiling itself beneath the collar of his shirt as he unfurls the knot of his tie. muscles automatically flexing in the task as his lower lip, kissed a million times, is captured by his canines.

despite their delicacy, the movements carry a nuance underlying the grace of his gestures, and the aroma that envelops him is so exquisitely intoxicating that your thoughts are spilled all over the room. as if he carries with him the very essence of seduction. his masculinity is pronounced, yet seamlessly fused with a continuous subtlety. devilishly attractive, he exudes an allure so undeniable that one can't help but think he is well aware of his own magnetic presence.

you still feel the bubbly taste of wine on your tongue as you place the glass on the table and cross the hotel room as you catch him smirking because he's aware you tried to keep your breathing sounding rhythmic as his dazed eyes fall on you when your fingers tangle with his, honey hair tickling your forehead. “allow me.”

your thoughts are still messy everywhere. in his eyes like two wild suns, in his adam's apple when your hands venture up to his neck, undoing the knot because even though it's devilishly attractive, alcohol still has the same mundane effect on him.

he looks through you. as he's aiming for your heart, his hands ready to rip it apart before he decides to take care of it instead. fiddling with the cord of a bow almost undone in the restless night with his bewitched eyes following the stroke of his fingers burning the skin of your chest.

he leans in and his lips seek yours to press a small kiss. and then another. and another. until the ephemeral becomes everlasting. “i want you.”

“i know.” he hums in response, almost nonchalantly were it not for his velvety eyes still spilling on your lips and his tongue teasing the inside of his cheek. your eyes drift from his tongue when he wet his lips where your skin burns and tickles. “it looks good on,” he pronounces as you observe he knotted the loose bow again.

your lips stretch into a sharp smile, reluctant to show whether that could have affected you. “you're not special,” you say, “i'm not gonna remember you just because you've been putting your best behavior and decided to not have sex with me.”

he stays magnanimous as the anger starts to crisp you when he laughs with light amusement, “oh, i will fuck you.” your brows cloud in disbelief, which leads him to smile even wider, “i prefer it with clothes on.”

you're too stunned by his confession to feel him pull you to himself and leave a kiss on your wet mouth. much more disoriented when he murmurs against your mouth, too fond to be snarky, “is that okay with you, angel?” without waiting for an answer to kiss you deeper as he knew the absence of your answer already.

it's very hard to spin thoughts now that his mouth won't stop moving over yours. more intoxicated by the taste of his tongue than the liquor that runs through your body. “lay down,” he asks when his hands are already pushing you into bed. his footprints burn your skin. you look at him through the thick haze of your chaotic subconscious while furious flutters take place in your stomach.

“i thought you like it with clothes.” your voice comes out thicker and deeper than you want it to be. pure desire intermingles, and haechan can sense it as he unbuttons his shirt, raising the gaze that holds the answer to your intrinsic question. your clothes remain intact while his is disappearing, watching him taking his shirt off, you let the complaints to die on your tongue at the sight of his tanned skin.

his hands slide into the buckle of his pants and you hold your breath. face burning from trying to contain the flames rising up your neck. feeling the fire twitch in your stomach, and stream to your hands already perching on him before your mouth does. kisses pressed on his waist, in the valley of his stomach that leads to his sternum.

he stops every motion treasuring your lips on his skin, “weren't you taking off your pants?” his gleeful chuckle vibrates against your palm releasing liquid desire in your belly. your fingers pull down the piece of fabric as you keep kissing his warm, soft skin, so dangerously close if you just slide your mouth a few inches lower to his growing bulge. “want me to take care of it?” you inquire.

haechan catches one of your feet in his hands as you drop to the fluffy surface. a smile dances on his lips as he pushes it to open. “you will.” his hand wraps around your ankle and holds you in place on the edge of the bed, as you revel in his anatomy. eyes gleaming at the view when when his erection hits the spot where your lips were pressing a few seconds ago.

you shallow and he notices it, “don't worry, pretty. it'll fit.” wanting to hold it for yourself is a lot of greed that you're not willing to reveal, so you bite your lip as your eyes fall on the ceiling, trying to take away the appetite from feeling it in your mouth before answering, “so?”

his hand drags down the back of your neck, suspended above you as he places a long, lush kiss on your mouth. you feel him venturing under your skirt before his warm fingers meet your bristling skin, a triumphant smile rises on your lips as his mouth drifts toward your neck, releasing a small hiss as he realizes the lack of garments underneath the fabric.

he's flushed. moist eyes clouded with ache burning his pupils. “fuck you— you're playing filthy.” his raspy voice sends you to the edge of the world. “i'm not playing anything,” you feel your tongue unravel to respond with difficulty. he grunts. lie. he knows you were. all along. your games, all dirty. the constant competition to know which one bewitched the other.

just because you didn't want to admit that you were the first one to give in.

you press your lips together when he slides through your silky folds. he curses and you roll your eyes. “already this wet?” he clicks his tongue, drawing circles on your clit. the drunken taste of his tongue mingles with the wine flavor when he kisses you firmly. your breath is caught in your throat when his digits switch the intensity of the motions.

your warmth aches for him. legs spreading cause him to increase the enhancement of his strokes. silent hisses leave your lips the moment he pulls away just enough to look at you. “let me hear you.” his eyes eclipsed in two black orbs. he chuckles, “need help with that?” your lip is caught between your teeth when you sense him guiding his fingers to your entrance. fuck.

you're hazing. blurry thoughts as electricity is shot into your bloodstream. haechan eases his fingers in you, pumping with a steady pace, making sure you're feeling him. watching you from above as you twitch due to fire pooling down your legs. your being is burning and your chest is filled with dying moans. eyes rolling back when your walls clench around his tick fingers fucking the shit out of you. “let me stretch you pretty for my cock,” he coos. lush growing a hole in your belly as his relentless strokes send you to the brim, accentuating the strength and depth with which he buries his fingers in you, threatening to shatter you.

his firm grip lands on your collarbones. you're a mess uncontrollable. arching your back and squirming under his gaze. sensing your stomach tightens violently when you feel the crushing climax looming in your body, clouding your mind and filling your ears with white noise. your belly contracts and shakes, your legs jerk, and your mouth opens. a whine finally escapes from you when he stops all the actions.

you are beyond confused, dazed and disoriented. your mind takes eternal seconds to process the fact that you were about to unleash the ecstasy before he, who grins at you, ceased it all. you don't give a fuck at this point. the moans fill your mouth now turned into gloomy sounds while your eyes search for him in distrust as they begin to well up with tears. upset. vexed.

“haechan.” he kisses you and you sob. haechan's tongue press against the pulsing vein on your neck, “the only way you're coming tonight is on my dick, precious.” your fingers bury themselves in the tender skin of his shoulders, arching your back. a pant leaving your lips as the swirl of emotions takes place in your belly when he sucks gently. one of his hands grasps your waist making sure to exert force in it, “stop being a tease and be a good girl, yeah?” before you feel him guiding his tip between your folds. your body trembles at the sensation of his cock being lubricated with your arousal. your mind scatters in all the places he's present. physically and emotionally.

a high-pitched sound echoes in your throat when he thrusts you with ease, feeling every inch expand your walls. your head lolls inadvertently aware of his thick length pushing in. he grunts, wild eyes as he hovers over you to have a full view of you taking him. of his dick burying into your aching cunt.

hair being pulled as you curl under him. hand reaching his on your waist unconsciously when he starts to thrust. so torturously steady, so painfully rough. you feel him everywhere. your pulse quickens and pumps your ears. face burning and cheeks wet. your mouth feels dry and something warm and smooth takes place inside. his cock hammers your soaked pussy and your ears fill with the lewd sounds every time he sinks into you. “d-don't cut your hair—.” he hums with amusement.

a shudder whips you and you're a mess of tears and strangled sighs. hands clenched in your chest as haechan buries himself over and over again mercilessly, shaking your body due to the force he exerts every time he pushes you towards his pelvis before meeting you halfway and fucks into you, leaving you breathless and counting stars.

he breathes sharply, “not a single word of how good i'm fucking you?” you're numb, feeling more that hearing the lewd of your arousal mixing around his. “in subspace, angel?” he bends over you, bringing your legs with him. his hands stop caressing your inner thighs to go to your chest. your fingers tangle with his when he undoes the bow that keeps your blouse on, “should i stop?”

your body goes into alarm at the same time your stomach closes and twitches, “please don't.” haechan pulls away from you, decreasing the pace of his thrusts. a pant leave his mouth half-open, looking disturbed all of a sudden before you sense him twitch between your walls. eyes closing tightly as he rocks his cock back and forth, hand going towards your cunt to start circling your clit. your pussy throbs knowing he's so close.

your heart skips a beat. your whole body is covered with pure pleasure. raw. and you feel your blood boil when you think you're burning at any moment. pearlescent skin in sweat. wrinkled and ruined clothes, cuffed by his hands as he buries himself and hammers his cock into you. pelvis pounding you rhythmically, bringing you to the intoxicating sensation of climax destroying your belly. a painful sharp pleasure fills you up.

“you've been snarky all night, shall i remind you your place?” one of his hand gropes the soft skin of your breast. the mere touch stuns your senses and turns them into a whirlpool of ecstasy.

“'m so clo—se.”

your pussy starts pulsating and he can't take his eyes off your breasts wiggling to the rhythm of his thrusts.

“i can tell that.” your hands sting when he takes them in one of his, bringing them to your stomach and exerting pressure where it burns deliciously. “feeling bold telling me how to make you feel good?” he clicks his tongue, “answer.”

“please, don't stop,” you plead in despair. “i love you.”

your boyfriend chuckles with tender, “i love you, too. but that's not what i want to hear.” he increases the pressure on your swollen clitoris.

you gulp, suddenly flushed. “fuck,” you mutter, “—feel so good, 's too m-uch.”

you groan in despair as the world crumbles and blurs around you. sinking into a total catalytic state feeling every nerve ending twitch and release itself when haechan fucks you hard against the mattress, “s-such a brat.” a pleasurable pain whips and contorts your body when he coos, “just like that, keep moaning like that.” arching your back towards him as his cock pulls you to the edge of the world and drops you into the welcoming ocean of breath-taking spasms. it feels too much, so intoxicatingly sensitive when he keeps thrusting you until you feel him tremble and stop with a restrained whine.

you feel him pull out his erect dick and start stroking it as he growls before you feel his hot seed coating your pussy. his cum spills into your folds, dripping down your cunt before he guides his tip along the path it leaves to push it into you. hand on your knee to make sure you don't close your legs as he gazes at your destroyed pussy filled with him.

“at one point i need to go get clean,” you say snarkily.

he creeps towards you with a grin, “allow me.” before depositing a trail of kisses down your stomach until you can't keep holding his gaze when he buries it between your legs.

your sharp breath freezes in your throat.

#haechan smut #donghyuck smut #lee donghyuck smut #nct 127 smut #haechan hard hours #haechan hard thoughts #nct dream smut #♡haechan

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jupitersdescendant · 24 days

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hey everybody and welcome back! todays reading is a bit shorter than usual but i hope no less satisfying and helpful.

today’s topic: what are your dreams trying to tell you?

here’s how it works: close your eyes and meditate on the question for a little. if you feel ready, open your eyes and choose the pile you feel the most drawn to. it’s possible, that you’ll be attracted to more than one pile. please remember that this is a general reading so only take what resonates. this is for entertainment purposes only. lastly, tarot is only a guide, nothing is set in stone and at the end of the day you have the power over your own life.

side note: can’t believe i forgot to write down the cards but i did.. please forgive me lol

Pile 1

hi pile 1!

i’m seeing fire as a reoccurring theme in your dreams as well as the colours red and orange. fire is a powerful element and an especially destructive one at that. in your dreams you are most of the time afraid of it. though the fire in your dreams isn’t there to scare you away but to beckon. to show you how to embrace that side of yourself since i’m pretty sure that you carry a fiery energy in yourself and often feel things very deeply, maybe even overwhelmingly so but aren’t really comfortable with that energy. your dreams encourage you to accept this side of you and to go out there and be fearless. be generous, helfpul and supportive to those you care about and to yourself of course. don’t forget to be mindful of who you give your energy to. it looks like you carry some type of burden around and throw yourself into work to take your mind off of things but also to make yourself feel better and somehow more worthy at the same time.. though fear of failure could plague you as well, don’t we all love that. please don’t overwork yourself and try to be more proud of how far you’ve already come. work isn’t everything and it’s definitely not the self care you should be practicing instead. you’re doubting yourself a lot as it seems and often feel unworthy or not good enough but you’re totally missing all the great parts that you also carry within you. i’m seeing that you’re very passionate and strong and that you care a lot about the things you love. try to surround yourself with people that make you feel free and that encourage you to just be your own beautiful and proud self.

let me know if it resonates! have a great day/night 🖤

Pile 2

welcome pile 2!

for starters, your dreams often make you feel uncomfortable and restless. you may have a lot of bad dreams or even reoccurring nightmares. with the lovers being the first card that dropped out and upright at that, it set the whole vibe of the reading. it does seem like there’s some kind of love interest in your life that you often see in your dreams as well. you experience a lot of self doubt in this situation and feel powerless. you want this relationship to move forward but you hesitate. it looks like you are very very scared of what might go wrong when you move forward with this person. i can basically see all the worst case scenarios in your head over piling in your head and this also shows very clearly in your dreams, hence the nightmares. dear, standing still is never the option and definitely not the solution. i think you want to enter a committed relationship with this person. you need to act. i think the seeds for what you desire are already planted and growing but they need your care if you really want them to flourish and grow into something beautiful. the only thing holding you back is you. i think this delay takes real damage to your energy, especially your feminine one and this makes you even more insecure. self-doubt really has you in a tight grip. i understand that you’re scared (been there done that) but when you want what or better who you want you can’t just ignore that, with time you’ll only get more and more sad and frustrated with yourself. you gotta make a move towards your person of interest, even if you have do it blindly and scared. the only way is through. and sure, maybe you’ll find out that they don’t feel the same way and it won’t be easy to accept that but that doesn’t mean that you aren’t great and loveable. it means that they aren’t right for you and why would you want what isn’t meant for you anyway? but maybe, if you put yourself out there, you’ll be blessed with something really beautiful that will probably make you way happier than the way things are right now. either way, you can do this and don’t forget that you’re loved and never alone. <3

let me know if it resonates! have a great day/night 🖤

Pile 3

hi there pile 3!

so you’re dreams are basically trying to tell you to make a decision. it seems like you can choose between multiple things that will all have different outcomes of course. this scares you. the context of the decision will differ for everyone but you’ll know what i’m talking about. its time for you to pack your thing (literally for some of you) and go on a new journey but you’re blocking yourself with indecision. you focus too much on the negative and everything that could possibly go wrong with your choice. because of that you fail to see all the things that could go right and with that the abundance that’s waiting on the other side. don’t forget that you’re ready to start something new or else you wouldn’t have the opportunity. animals way be really present in your dreams and maybe also in your waking life, specifically birds, reptiles and insects. your intuition may be blocked because of self doubt but try to go within and listen to what your heart tells you. it’s funny because you’re dreams are literally telling you to wake up and to charge into the unknown. i have to think about a book i recently read about self confidence and it’s importance when it comes to decision making: a part of that confidence really depends on you trusting the world to meet you where you want to go, even if that means stepping into unknown territory. i know making decisions can be very scary especially when it might change your whole life but you have to believe in all that you can gain. you’ll feel so much more freedom when you’re finally moving forward with purpose and will. trust that success, independence and security are all waiting on the other side of fear. you can do this.

let me know if it resonates! have a great day/night! 🖤

Pile 4

hello pile 4!

it looks like you aren’t that secure in yourself, your energy and your skills and abilities, at least at the moment. you feel out of touch with yourself. you’ve bern feeling this way for quite some time. you could currently be easily triggered and irritated by the smallest things and may not be really sure why. maybe you’re not even that aware of whats going on on the inside and that’s why it all comes out in your dreams. actually, it seems like a lot of you are in a relationship or at least some type of situationship and i think your frustration and disconnect stands in direct relation to this. i think the biggest problem here is that you probably aren’t honest with yourself and also not to your partner/person which leads to both of you feeling discontent as well as stagnant. it looks like you care for each other deeply but things may be really rocky at the moment. because of this there’s this theme of being scared of change, maybe resisting it and behaving in negative patterns. you’re scared to loose this person. some of you may be physically separated from them at the moment. your dreams are urging you to open yourself up and to communicate clearly. i can’t really tell where this situation is headed since it will differ for everyone but if you’re truly honest with yourself you know whats wrong and where you want this situation to go. it takes courage to communicate things that are difficult to say though it’s only fair to you and the other person. let your feelings out, only this way will you gain clarity and justice. i’m actually seeing a really positive outcome for you filled with new beginnings and opportunities and good news.

let me know if it resonates! have a great day/night! 🖤

🔮thanks a lot for reading! 🔮

#divination #pac reading #pick a card #pick a card reading #pick a pile #pick a pile reading #tarot reading #spirituality #pac tarot #witchcraft #tarotblr #free tarot readings #dreams #pick a picture #tarot community

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loveroffictionalmen · 1 year

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Hey! Not sure if this is where I should leave a request but I’d love to see the prompt “Have you eaten today?” “Am I gonna get in trouble if I say no?” With Wanda Maximoff x Reader all good if not :)

Baby Steps

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x gn!reader

Description: Wanda, new to the Avengers after the events of Age of Ultron, finds peace in the reader. But when the reader starts showing signs of an eating disorder, Wanda does her best to help in a situation where she feels powerless.

Warnings: eating disorder, talk of disordered eating, angst with fluff sprinkled in at the end

Words: 1269

A/N: hii this is my first post and it’s a request yippee! to anyone who is struggling with disordered eating, i want you to know you’re not alone. you can always message me to talk. my messages are open. you are loved and valued, and you are worth much more than the number on a scale or a measuring tape.

Wanda was observant. She was the kind of person who noticed when someone was a little too quiet. She noticed the small things, but didn’t really speak up about it. After all, being new to the Avengers would definitely make someone not want to speak up. She felt like she had no place to.

It wasn’t until y/n came back from their mission that Wanda started to feel like she belonged. Y/n had been gone for the first few days of Wanda’s stay at the compound, so to see that there was another Avenger startled Wanda.

But y/n was kind, caring. They were gentle with everyone, unlike some of the others. Everyone seemed to like y/n. It wasn’t long before Wanda and y/n became close.

Wanda noticed the small things about y/n. She noticed that y/n always wet their hairbrush before brushing their hair. She noticed the kinds of books they liked to read. She noticed that they seemed especially happy on rainy days. But that wasn’t the only thing Wanda had seen.

Wanda saw the times that y/n would slip away right after dinner. She saw how, when asked if they wanted a snack, they would always politely refuse. It puzzled her.

But it didn’t take long to figure it out. Y/n had an eating disorder. To think that someone that happy, that kind could do such a thing to themselves. Wanda wanted to reach into y/n’s mind, figure out what the problem was and stop it. But that would be way overstepping a boundary.

As time went on Wanda got closer to y/n, she began to fall more and more in love with them. And when they asked Wanda to be their girlfriend, she was more than happy to say yes. And ever since that day, Wanda vowed to love y/n as much as she could.

“Dragul meu? (my love?),” Wanda asked one day, hoping that today would be different. She walked into their shared bedroom, hoping to give y/n a gentle wake-up call. “What do you want for breakfast?”

Y/n groaned, rolling over and squinting their eyes. “Maybe just a coffee,” They said, voice raspy. Both the rasp and the answer made Wanda’s stomach flutter.

“Milk and sugar okay, dragoste (love)?” Wanda asked, hoping to whatever god was listening that y/n would say yes.

“Black is good for me,” They said, sitting up. Wanda pursed her lips into a small smile and nodded. Giving y/n a soft kiss on the forehead, she murmured, “Are you doing alright?”

Y/n knew that Wanda knew about their eating disorder. They hadn’t had extensive conversations about it, but at that point, nearly everyone in the compound knew. Y/n just chose to ignore that. But with Wanda, they were honest. Well, as honest as they could be.

“I’ve got it under control, don’t worry dragă (darling),” Y/n whispered back, slipping into Wanda’s native tongue. Wanda furrowed her brows, but pushed her worry aside. Y/n wouldn’t lie to her, right?

“I know, I just worry,” She said.

“And you don’t need to, I’m okay.” Y/n gave Wanda’s hand a slight squeeze. Wanda nodded.

“Well, I’d better make that coffee then, shouldn’t I?”

By the time the afternoon rolled around, Wanda was restless. She wasn’t due for training like the others since she wasn’t put on the schedule for that day. She kept running y/n’s words in her head over and over again.

I’ve got it under control. If y/n was telling the truth, why did it feel like they were slipping further and further away? Why did it feel like Wanda could only watch as y/n fell deeper in the hole? Her thoughts were interrupted as Pietro sped into the room.

“Wanda! It’s y/n! They-” He panted. Wanda stood, eyes widening. “They fainted, during combat training!” Wanda felt as if her whole world stopped. Y/n, her love, had finally pushed themselves too far.

“Which gym?” She said, face like stone.

“Uhh, 3A, Rogers is with her now-” Wanda didn’t wait for Pietro to finish. She dashed through the compound and down to the level where the training rooms were. She could feel a sob catching in her throat as she struggled to find room 3A. With tears threatening her lower lashline, she tore through each of the gyms until she found it.

Steve was next to y/n who was sitting against the far wall, sipping a bottle of water. When Wanda approached, Steve backed off, not wanting to be a part of what seemed to be a hard conversation.

“Y/N!” Wanda cried, kneeling next to her partner. “What happened, are you-” Wanda choked on a sob. She could see y/n’s face twist in sadness. Y/n placed their hands on Wanda’s cheeks and shook their head.

“Please don’t cry,” They said. When Wanda had calmed for a moment, she took a deep breath.

“Please, honestly, have you eaten today?” Y/n’s face fell. They looked down for a moment.

“Am I going to get in trouble if I say no?” They whispered. Wanda’s stomach dropped. She bit her lip for a moment, and thought about what she should say next.

“No, no you won’t get in trouble darling,” She said slowly. “Come, we’ll get you to the infirmary-”

“No-”

“Y/n please.” Wanda looked at y/n, practically begging them to come with her. Y/n was silent for a moment, then nodded.

“Okay, but I don’t know if I’m ready to get better yet,” they said. This broke Wanda’s heart.

“You don’t have to get better all at once. Pași de bebeluș (baby steps), okay?” Wanda said. Y/n nodded again.

“Baby steps.”

“Y/n! I was talking to Banner, and he said there’s something called supplement! It’s a drink, so when you can’t finish your meals, you can have that instead!” Wanda said, entering y/n’s hospital room. It wasn’t long before y/n was admitted for malnutrition. But Wanda visited everyday. She stayed at the hospital day and night and only left for food and to clean herself up. And to talk to Banner of course.

“I don’t know...” y/n said, looking down at their hands.

“You don’t have to use it all the time, or at all. Just try it?” Wanda said, taking a seat next to y/n.

“Maybe-” Y/n was cut off by the sing-song voice of a nurse entering the room with a tray. A tray of food.

“Lunchtime!!” The nurse said. Wanda could see the panic enter y/n’s eyes as the nurse got closer. She took y/n’s hand in hers and squeezed, letting them know they she was right there.

“Thank you,” Wanda said, speaking for the panicked patient. Y/n looked at Wanda, eyes brimming with tears.

“I don’t know if I can-” They started. They cut themselves off before saying more.

“Baby steps,” Wanda reassured them. “How about this, you take one bite of the sandwich, and I’ll take one too. We’ll share it, okay?” Y/n took a deep breath and nodded. Wanda did her best to keep y/n distracted throughout the meal. It took a while, due to their abnormally small bites, but they finished the sandwich.

“O Doamne (oh my god)! We finished it my love! That’s amazing! You’re doing amazing, “ Wanda said when y/n had finished their last bite. “I knew you could do it!”

“It was easier like that,” Y/n admitted.

“Well, in that case dragul meu (my darling), I’ll eat with you for as long as it takes. Even if it means forever.” Wanda said, still amazed at how well y/n had done. This was the most they had eaten in a couple days.

“Promise?”

“Promisiune (promise).”

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hyacinth43 · 26 days

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bro what do you think your AM would even be doing in life? He can’t control people while in a human form. He just walk around in circles huffing and puffing?

I headcanon that Hal works while AM is a bum that lives with him 😭

HEHEHE I guess I just imagined them all living in a big house together... Auto has that BnL money so they all freeload off him. AM feels even more angry and restless with nothing to do, he would probably antagonize the other bots or start conflict to try and entertain himself. Since he feels powerless in his human form he probably becomes a recluse also, he doesn't even want to be around humans anymore if he has no control over them.

I could write a fic about this... I have a lot of thoughts on AM and how he would adjust, seeing as it's both his dream and his nightmare come true.

Also I think Hal would be great at most jobs. Even though the last time he had a job he killed a few people. Besides that he did a pretty great job. xD

#Now I need to draw Hal and AM as the Spongebob “GET A JOB” scene #ask

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kxizoku-ou · 3 months

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I have a lot of thoughts about the Vinsmoke brothers, specifically about what could happen if their modifications? mutations? malfunctioned at some point and they ended up somewhat powerless and able to feel emotions (like how Sanji is). They would not take it well and I want to see them suffer lol

I have a whole theory about how exactly the modifications work/what it would take to get those three to experience some proper Feelings, and yeah, "they would not take it well" is an understatement. >.>

. . .

Ichiji

For a while, he's just plain in denial. Ichiji isn't sure what the strange thoughts and sensations in his body are caused by, but "emotions" simply isn't a possible answer. He's better than that. (And failure isn't allowed, to begin with.) Unfortunately for him, no amount of trying to talk himself out of it does any good. The new, unfamiliar anxiety leaves him restless and tense, so he overworks himself past the point of even his enhanced body's limits in an attempt to shut out the thoughts. Now that Ichiji actually has to fear falling short of "perfect", he ends up surprisingly self-conscious and on edge.

Niji

He's utterly unequipped to process the newfound emotions, and it shows. Badly. Everything feels agonizingly intense with no baseline for comparison, so Niji is left careening between erratic extremes of volatility and distress. He tries to hide it (Sanji was deemed a failure when he acted like this, they all remember that), but his clumsy, panicked attempts at suppressing the feelings only end up making them worse. The sudden awareness of his physical pain doesn't help matters, either— overall, Niji's bound for a breakdown within a matter of days, and it's going to be messy.

Yonji

Though he starts out more confused (and vaguely unsettled) than anything, Yonji also quickly spirals into the fear that what he's experiencing makes him a "failure" too. His attempts at containing the emotions are less violent than Niji's— instead, Yonji starts almost shutting down, turning quieter and less boisterous in an attempt to avoid unwanted scrutiny, while finding every excuse to dodge interactions with anyone who might notice that something is wrong. He's acutely aware that his brothers are acting strangely as well, and getting all the more apprehensive because of it.

#One Piece #Ichiji #Vinsmoke Ichiji #Niji #Vinsmoke Niji #Yonji #Vinsmoke Yonji #Headcanon

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shadeysprings · 1 year

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Rebound - Finale

—DBF!Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Your night of wallowing in your misery takes a different turn when your dad’s best friend bumps into you at the bar.

Warnings: noncon/dubcon undertones, oral sex with fingers at play, unprotected sex, age gap (around 20-25 years), kinda SoftDark!Joel but also nah, gaslighting, predatory vibes & pussy slapping. Use the warnings wisely and tread carefully.

A/N: We have reached the end—or have we? Either way, thank you to everyone that has been following this mini-series since the beginning. I do apologize for the late update as I am going through some rough patches atm. Still, thank you from the bottom of my heart and I hope to release more Joel/Pedro content for y'all soon!

Your feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated. And of course, I hope y'all enjoy.❤️

— Previous Chapter

The sun shines through the window, its rays kissing your skin as the morning comes and greets the world. The birds chirp happily, their song being carried by the wind, soothing and peaceful, unlike your soul that continues to be plagued by the darkness and the formidable force that is Joel.

Your sleep was restless as the events of the evening kept playing in your head, giving you no serenity, no escape, only dread. Disbelief shrouds you, still finding it surreal that the man you knew for years and was trusted by your family would attack you and betray you in such a way. A wolf in sheep’s clothing.

His snores echo through your bedroom. His naked chest pressed against your back. But the worst one of all, his cock remains inside of you, your inner thighs stained and sticky from his come, evidence of his depravity, a psychotic demonstration of his power and perverse desires for you. Your cunt aches, sore from his assault that you allowed helplessly, powerless to his strength and intent.

You force yourself not to cry, to not make a sound as the severity of your situation sinks in your bones. The last thing you want to do is wake him up and face the morning with his suffocating attention. To hear his words of faux concern that he knows what you need. And his fucked up head, he thinks—no, he believes that what you need is him.

So, you close your eyes and wish for sleep to visit you. You hope that he’s gone when you wake up and that everything that had happened would have all been a nightmare, one you can forget and push to the back of your head and never think of again.

But just as your eyes get heavy and your body reaches a point of calm, he stirs from behind you and you’re wide awake once more. His arm around you tightens, pulling you flush against his chest and you struggle to keep the reluctant moan from leaving your lips when you feel his cock throb against your pussy walls, his hips rolling against your own.

“Good morning, baby,” he says in a sleepy drawl, your body shivering when he presses a kiss on your bare shoulder, his beard bristling against your skin.

You don’t respond, hoping he would think you’re asleep and that he would leave you alone. But his hand begins to wander, your skin tingling when he grazes his fingertips against it before trapping a nipple between his fingers and giving it a rough pinch.

“I know you’re awake,” he groans.

His hips begin to move, slowly pulling back and then pushing in, his length rubbing against your sore cunt. And all at once, he traps you in his arms, a gasp pulled from your throat when he turns your head to have you face him when he looks down at you, his hand caging your jaw before he leans down to press a sloppy kiss against your lips.

His tempo then picks up, swallowing your moans when you feel him plunge his cock deeper. The hand previously on your breast travels south, caressing your stomach and you let out a yelp of surprise when he slaps your pussy, once, twice, then multiple times in quick succession, stopping all of a sudden only to press his finger against your clit and rolling against it roughly.

Your walls slicken at the touch and your back arches against his chest as the stimulation drenches over your entire being. Toes curling, hips bucking instinctively and your mind going blank, consumed by the pleasure you didn’t want—and all you could think about is reaching high for your peak and seeking that release.

“I feel your body aching for me, baby,” he groans on your cheek when you break the kiss, gasping heavily and whining when he turns on the bed and lays on his back, pulling you with him and having you rest on his chest.

With his knees positioned between yours, he spreads them apart with yours and his hand latches around your throat while the other sits gingerly against your cunt. Your body bends, teeth grinding as your body sings in ecstasy when he rams his cock against you, faster, harder, fucking you senseless, making your ass bounce against his thighs.

Strings of whimpers and moans slip past your lips as you beg for relief, his hand slapping once more against your cunt, your clit stinging in a mix of pain and pleasure. Your walls then clench around him, the pit of your stomach rolling, swirling as Joel continues to impale you, his thrusts frantic and erratic and you feel his hot breath spreading against your heated skin.

You then shout in pain when his teeth clamp on your shoulder, but it quickly subsides as the sensation only provokes the desire swimming deep in your core. He sucks on the patch of skin and then bites down, his tongue rolling around the prickling area before pressing a kiss on it.

“You’re mine, baby—” he growls and you choke when his fingers tighten around your neck. “Don’t you ever forget that.”

His words jolt fear into you with how possessive and feral he sounds. But such thoughts vanish as quickly as they came and you grab onto his arms when you feel the coil within you twisting tighter and tighter.

You focus on one thing, to reach your peak and you imagine Joel not being here, painting his face with another, with Alex’s, just to simply endure the torture he bestows upon you easier and find a sense of comfort amidst the whirlwind of this monstrosity.

Breath hitching and legs shaking, you let out a shout when the thread finally breaks and a blinding orgasm takes over, making your body stay still as your juices flow out of you in a rush, coating heavily on his cock. But his hips don’t relent and both his hands grab onto your waist as he pounds into you mercilessly. Though he doesn’t last much longer, slamming his cock deep within where he shudders and growls when he finally spills his seed.

The air is musky with the scent of sex as you both lay atop the mattress, chests heaving and exhaustion settling in. A whine trickles out from you when his hand finds purchase of your pussy once more, fingers playing with your clit before running his hand north and splaying his fingers wide against your stomach.

“You’re on the pill, right?” he asks out of the blue and panic quickly washes over you at the realization that he finished inside.

But before you could respond, he plants a kiss on your shoulder and then on your hair, whining when his cock slides out of your pussy and feeling your mixed essence drip down your inner thighs and to your ass.

“Well, even if you ain’t, we can get those morning-after pills later.” he says, amusement evident in his voice, both his arms wrapping around your body as he cages you to him. “Let’s just enjoy the morning for a little longer, shall we?”

Joel, as you’ve come to realize, is insatiable.

Relief filled you when he allowed you to clean up, happy to finally be away from him even if it was for a short while. Your feet were still stinging from the burns from the night before but you preferred it more than being with your captor.

But the respite you thought you had was taken away when the curtains flew open just as soon as the hot water hit your skin and Joel stepped inside the tub, feeling his arms wrap around your waist to pull you against him.

“I saw the pills,” he whispered in your ear, tears pooling in your eyes when you felt his cock stiff against the small of your back. “Glad to know we’re in the clear,” he added and proceeded to take you once more in the tight space.

You’re still in shock as to why he’s doing this, his words from last night ringing in your ears. It makes you question just how long he’s been thinking of you, seeing you in such a way and not as his best friend’s daughter. The thought makes you sick, knowing that he must have been waiting, preying on you without you even realizing it. Taking advantage of the times you both would bond with each other and wait for the opportunity to strike.

But his deviance is not what scares you but the fluctuation of his mood. He was rough and manipulative last night, blaming you for his actions. Yet, now, he's calm and all smiles, sitting in front of you on the bed, dressed only in his boxers and you in a nightshirt—foregoing the panties at his behest. A tray of toast, eggs, and bacon sits between you—something he’s prepared himself—a sweet and thoughtful gesture should the circumstances be different.

He bites on a piece of toast and you do nothing but stare at the food, questions swirling in your head. How will you escape him? Would you even be able to? What would happen if you told your dad what he did?

“You’re not eating.” his voice stops your train of thought and you look up at him, seeing the seriousness in his eyes. “Don’t you like it? I can make you something else.”

“No—this is fine,” you say with a strained smile, picking up a piece of bacon. “Thank you.” you bite into the shred of meat, forcing yourself to eat despite your lack of appetite. But you don’t want to displease him, you’ve seen the extent of his strength and anger.

He stares, hazel orbs intense and dark and you look away if only to keep away from his suffocating presence. But the bed moves and the tray of food is pushed aside, your eyes blinking when his hand appears in your line of sight. You hesitate for a second but immediately place your hand in his when you hear the low growl he makes. He tugs you and you follow him with reluctance, taking a seat on his lap as he directs.

Back resting on his naked and damp chest, you try not to pull away when he nuzzles his nose on the crook of your neck, an arm wrapping around your waist while the other rests over your thigh and kneads on the flesh.

“You’re coming home with me tonight,” he says, more of a command than a request and you say nothing. He continues, “So that you’re not surrounded by memories of that chump ex of yours. Understand?”

You swallow thickly, afraid to utter a word but the way his fingers dig painfully into the meat of your thigh has you hissing and you acquiesce to his demands with a nod.

“Things are going to be different from now on, baby,” he whispers and you whimper when his hand slips between your thighs, finger tickling your skin before cupping your naked heat, and his thumb slowly pushes down against your sensitive bud. “No more wasted tears,” he murmurs, your hand grabbing his wrist when he starts rolling the pad of his thumb against your clit. “No more broken heart.”

You sniff and try to close your legs, to stop him. But he pinches your stomach and you bite your lip to suppress a cry, succumbing once more to his desires.

“I’ll give you everything you need,” he growls low and you stiffen against his chest when his finger teases your slit, the tears falling down your face when he pushes it past your folds and into your cunt, fucking you slowly.

“I love you, baby. Always have and always will.” Shivers run up your spine when he kisses your ear and whispers once more, his words sealing your fate. “And no one will ever take you away from me.”

I no longer keep a tag list but if you want to be kept updated on my fics, follow my side blog @springlibrary and turn on notifications.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #dark joel miller #dark!joel miller #dbf!joel miller #the last of us #au #rebound #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal imagine #dark fic #joel miller fanfiction #shadeysprings fics

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canadian-pug-cartel · 7 months

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I really wanna talk about how tssm Electro is probably in Chronic pain

He’s hungry but he can’t eat He’s tired but he can’t sleep He’s Thirsty but he can’t drink

He simply isn’t human anymore but he still feels

He can still feel the exhaustion tugging at electric eye lids but he just can’t sleep He can still feel the dryness of a throat that isn’t there anymore Sill feel the ache in bones he doesn’t have

He’s a monster on all accounts but he’s sill painfully human

And all the simple joys of his life have been stolen by a god like power that he never asked for

He can’t even watch the damn TV without it turning to static Can’t go outside without getting weird looks or people running for their lives cant go to college cant find someone cant have a life all because of a freak accident that stole that all away

Sure he was never a saint before but what had he done to deserve this? Doc Ock said this was a gift a power that he could harness and make people afraid but it sure as hell dosent feel like a gift when his teeth hurt and his nerves feel on fire it dosent feel like a gift when he can never be normal again when he can never watch his favorite team play or see his favorite band

He can’t sleep anymore the electricity making his restless and awake but he can’t kill the time with TV or a video game because he always shot the power

It wasn’t fair that he was so powerful but felt so powerless

Midnight walks become his only friend because the rest of the six tell him hes lucky tell him hes powerful

But he sure as hell dosent feel lucky he feels like he’ll never drink another cup of coffee again never sleep again never not feel pain again

If this is a gift-

What the hell is a curse?

Was he ungrateful for this power he never wanted? Doc said he was…and he never lied to him right? Maybe the pain was normal- really I’d been so long since he hasn’t felt the pain maybe it was always there?

Maybe the rest of the six felt the pain in their teeth and bones too maybe he was just over dramatic?

I mean really who would want to hear about a problem everyone has? he was just over reacting

It was nothing

Really

#pug cartel talks #tssm electro #max dillon #the spectacular spider man #sorry for flooding this tag #I just have so many thoughts #he’s tragic and I want to explore that #sorry volt and marsh #im putting him in the angst machine again

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kalevalakryze · 4 months

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Yhe'na Det Och'sa

Chapter Five: Det Baht

Summary: "You're too young to fight a war," Ahsoka had said, with little room for argument. But Shin knew they were ready, knew they were meant for more than that, knew they were worthy to fight at Ahsoka's side... If only they could find some way to prove themselves... Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3| 4 AO3 Link: Here! Notes: All amazing artwork posted in the fic done by @somewillwin

Tension had risen in the weeks since Shin had found their Kyber. The rebellion was beginning to make moves, moves that put them in the public eye, actions that could not be brushed away as separatist outlier activity. The Empire and all of its citizens were beginning to face the truth of the Rebellion that’s been brewing under their feet.

Ahsoka was so busy lately, too. She was meant to be training Shin, but now, the Padawan was lucky to see their Master once in the mornings. “I want to come with you,” Shin declared that fateful morning over breakfast. They’d done their morning meditation alone, they’d helped Huyang attend to the ship alone, and now, as Ahsoka pulled her cloak over her shoulders with half of a burned piece of toast hanging past her lips, Shin knew they would be spending much more than breakfast alone. “You’re not ready yet, Shin,” Ahsoka sighed, not even looking at her.

“Isn’t this what I’m training for?” The twelve-year-old demanded, hands flailing towards the door Ahsoka planned on walking out of. It was almost as if every time they had the displeasure of docking with a Rebel Cruiser, Ahsoka would be gone for days , something about a Ghost Crew . Shin couldn’t help the bristling feeling that came with every story of a Padawan boy and a Mandalorian girl that was shared in their brief times together…

“No,” Ahsoka sounded definitive; Usually, that would be enough to quiet the brunette. Today, however, they found a burning in their heart, a restless anxiety that wanted her to beg not to go, a creeping feeling in the Force that made their skin crawl. “You’re training to be something else. You aren’t a soldier.”

“Well… Why not?” Their breakfast went forgotten as they stood from the table, scrawny arms crossed over their chest as they tried to put themselves between the door and the woman trying to go past it. “I have the weapon, the galaxy needs the help. Who’s going to watch your back out there?”

“Shin, you are twelve, you are not fighting a war.” The fire in Ahsoka’s eyes matched the stubborn might in Shin’s own, a brewing typoon that would destroy everything if they’d let it. Ahsoka never talked about it, and Shin had never known to ask, but the words hung in a haunting manner. Ahsoka would not raise another child soldier, but… would the galaxy truly give her that choice.

“Isn’t it the will of the Force that I’m at your side?”

“I’m just trying to keep you there in one piece,” Ahsoka acquiesced, bristling under the long-forgotten familiarity as she reached to place a hand on their shoulder to usher them out of her way. “I’ll be back later, we can discuss this attitude when I get back.”

Her words were final, and with a deflated huff, Shin watched as Ahsoka swept down the ramp and into the bustling hangar bay to board the ship that would take her to the Ghost Crew.

“You do not hate her,” Huyang pointed out as a simmering Padawan joined him in the cockpit of the T-6, watching as Ahsoka’s small starship shot out of the hangar bay and entered hyperspace a short ways away. “You hate how powerless the situation has made you feel.” He added unhelpfully.

“Thanks, Huyang,” The pre-teen grumbled as they dropped into the copilot's seat and pulled the seatbelts tight. “Can I drive?”

“No thank you, I value my life.”

“You’re twelve,” Shin mocked, in what was yet again, another pathetic rendition of the argument from that morning. “I’ll not allow you to do what it is that I’ve been training you for,” The young Padawan scoffed as she passed a small torch to Huyang. “How kriffing ridiculous,”

Huyang was either endlessly patient or he’d tuned her out entirely. From an old radio in his voicebox, speakers played almost calming music, though it did nothing to quell the pre-teen’s frustrations. “Huyang, meht had to get up to something before, right? There’s no way she would have stayed behind.”

“You are a much better-behaved Padawan than she had been, that is correct,” He answered for the first time since they’d angrily barged into his quarters for something to do. “I need that spare emitter in box four cresh, please.”

“Right! I am a good Padawn. I’ve done everything right!” Shin continued, as if she hadn’t bothered to hear the droid, but still pushed off her stool to sort through the box and grab the burnt and ruined lightsaber emitter he’d asked for. “So why isn’t any of it good enough for her,”

Digital yellow eyes clocked onto the brunette as they gathered materials for his next step. These were words he’d heard often, across several lineages of Padawans going back eons, however… This lineage, when they spoke in such a way… he’d learned to become cautious.

“Perhaps you should find another subject to ponder, young Tano. Do not feed those thoughts,”

Silver eyes narrowed at him; “I can control my mind just fine, if that’s what you’re afraid of, Huyang,”

The two stared at each other, Huyang refused to be cowed by the way silver eyes crinkled towards him, the way the human’s nose crinkled as if they would get violent to prove their statement. “Whatever, I’m out of here. Let me know when Ahsoka wants me around,” They huffed, pre-pubescent rage fueling the way their feet stomped to their room.

At least, in space, the comm towers were easier to connect to. The connection was good enough that, as Shin tossed themselves into their bunk and dialed Leia’s comm chain, the Princess was accepting the transmission before they’d even righted themselves in the bunk.

“Shin!” Leia sounds relieved as her form strikes into the holo. Two-vee is parading around the Princess’s head, tutting something or other about taking calls without being proper.

“Hey,” The pre-teen croaked, tucking her small tooka doll into her arms as a welcome companion as she placed the comm disc on a small shelf near the head of the bunk, full of various other trinkets.

“Are you alright? What’s wrong?” Even through the artificial life of the holoprojector, Shin could feel the warmth in dark brown eyes as they focused solely on her. Leia always was kind like that, even with everything she had going on, with her apprenticeship in the Senate and preparing for her Day of Demand, she was always ready to set it all aside for them.

“My mom and I got into an argument,” They grumbled, burying their face into the crook of their elbow as embarrassment crept onto their cheeks.

“You and Ashla? But you two never fight?” Leia squinted at the brunette suspiciously, finally succeeding in getting Two-Vee to back away from twisting her hair into braids, allowing both girls solitude.

“It’s been happening a lot lately, and I just. . .” The pre-teen huffed out a frustrated exhale. There was so much she couldn’t say, things that she couldn’t tell Ahsoka, or Huyang, and things that she really couldn’t tell Leia, for her safety. “It feels like she doesn’t get it . If anyone would understand, you’d expect it to be her, from what Huyang said about her time as a…kid, but then she just acts like…” There was a shuffling noise from Shin’s end, the brunette resorted to animated hand movements that made no real sense but seemed to express what words could not.

“I get it,” Leia admitted, tone touching a tad softer now as she folded her hands neatly over the desk. “Perhaps… she doesn’t want to see you make the same mistakes she had?”

“Don’t be rational with me,” Shin groaned, the pillow they’d cradled into their stomach with their free arm being moved to rest over their head as silver-blue eyes peered past the gap pathetically at the older girl.

Leia laughed at this, bubbly and warm, and enough to bring a smile to Shin’s lips as well. “Alright alright, no rationality from me, promise. Have you thought about dying all of her clothes pink?”

“Oh my makers, you’re a genius. The next time we get to Alderaan, we need to get the dye,”

“Oh, it’s so on. Where are you guys at anyways? When can I see you again?”

Letting the pillow fall from their head, Shin peered to the star map settled on the nightstand, just out of frame. “We’re out in the outer rim, bringing some supplies to Jakku.” Leia’s eyes seemed to light up at the thought.

“I wish I could be out there with you, helping people..”

Shin’s eyes lowered. You and me both… “There’s important work to be done in the senate. My mother is still trying to push past the siege on Mandalore to be allowed to deliver supplies to the citizens who have been cut off by Imperial restrictions. Without people like your father and you, we may never succeed,” It was the same Bantha Fodder that Ahsoka always fed her, when they would ask about Leia joining them on the ship, or when Shin would question her about Leia’s knowledge of the Rebellion and when they would finally be able to be truthful to each other.

Leia seemed to tire of this response as well, idly picking at the fresh paint on her nails as Shin spoke. “There is, but it doesn’t feel like it has as big an impact as actually helping a person, face-to-face.”

“Every choice you make has an impact in some way…” Rubbing her eyes tiredly, Shin shifted in their bunk, reaching to unclip their saber from their belt and stuff it in its safe place, between the mattress and the durasteel wall. “What have you been up to, anyway?”

As Leia went into the tirade of her recent exploits with her father in Coruscant and her plans for her Day of Demand, Shin let herself sink into the familiar feeling of being around someone normal .

It was nearly two standard hours later, as Leia discussed her plans to climb Appenza Peak, that the chill began to permeate everything around Shin. No matter how many blankets they burrowed themselves in, the cold persisted.

“Shin, where are you? I think you’re breaking up-“ Leia’s voice crackled, pulling them from their inquisitive respite, idly reaching through the Force for the source of the cold.

“Huh?” Blinking, the brunette pulled herself into a sitting position, blankets pooling around their waist as paranoia began to flood their veins.

It felt like frost was permeating their very being as they rose from their bunk. Leia’s form was distorting as the comms wavered. With a willing tug of the force, Shin’s saber flew to their hand, easing the anxiety that ate away at their mind. “Huyang?” Shin called, foolishly hoping that the strange feeling had something to do with his work.

The ship rocked with the energy of someone docking with the shuttle, she could hear Leia bark their name one final time before a jammer cut the signal entirely at last.

As Shin slipped from their bunk room, fingers flexing around the bolt of their saber, they heard the telltale hiss of hydraulics as their airlock was being forced open.

“Lady Tano, you need to-“ Shin didn’t give him time to finish as they sped across the cabin; his chassis was hard against their shoulder as they body-checked the ancient droid, sending him tumbling back into his workspace with a loud clang.

His back caught on the sharp edge of a table, and with a wince, Shin noted the sound of wires being ripped from their sockets and the sight of the lights in his eyes powering down. With a quick flash of their saber through the control panel, the door slid shut and locked tight. They had to hope it was enough to keep him safe, at least.

The airlock popped at last, flooding the cabin with a choking darkness that permeated their soul in its venom. Shin took a breath to steady themselves against the tidal waves in the force, thoughts straying briefly to Ahsoka, hoping that some sort of warning would reach her through the jammer. Hells, maybe she was on her way right now .

As heavy footsteps thudded against the durasteel floors and their hands wrapped around their saber, raising their defenses, they sent out their last Hail Mary. Meht… please hurry.

The Ghost crew moved like a well-oiled machine on most days. If that well-oiled machine was chock full of different parts that misfired constantly. But ever since Fulcrum told them who she was- to a degree- they’d found their footing and were making good on nearly all of their strikes against the Empire.

Ever since the Inquisitors started showing up, Ahsoka had been so awfully busy, not only were they hunting Ezra and Kanan, but Ahsoka learned that they had information on other survivors, people Ahsoka had only hoped to find in her years since the purge.

The halls of the light cruiser they’d found floating in open space were crowded with the stench of decay. Stormtrooper corpses mottled the ship in all places, with lightsaber scorch marks all across the plastoid and walls.

“Eyuch,” Ezra complained as he stepped over a body, nose scrunching up slightly. “Can’t believe we found something that smells worse than Zeb ,” The teenager scoffed, actually putting himself closer to the Lasat like a moving air freshener.

“Yeah yeah, kid,” Zeb grumbled, checking his shoulder into the boy as they rounded a corner, bumping him into one of the walls.

“Will you two cut it out?” Sabine’s voice was distorted through her helmet’s vocoder, though her annoyance dripped through it as she pulled her blasters close, popping her arms back out once she was around and clear.

Hera moved quietly between Ahsoka and Kanan, pinching the bridge of her nose as the bickering continued. “Chop, get the door to Hangar nine open, please,” She called over her comms, receiving a warble in reply as they moved.

As the door opened, Ahsoka’s step faltered. Klaxons were blaring, and darkness was flooding a small ship, when she looked at the sabers in her hands, it was not the orange of her skin or the emerald green of her own sabers that met her eye, and it certainly wasn’t Greivious or Pirates piling past the airlock .

“Ahsoka-“ Kanan’s hand was heavy on her shoulder, brows furrowed in concern at her stumble. When she focused back on the real world, it was the familiar and unwelcome comfort that came with the chaos of a battlefield. Ezra stood before the two Clone War survivors, blocking them from incoming lasers, Hera and Zeb each took up one side of the door, firing blind into the smog that filled the hangar bay, while Sabine’s gloved hands pressed into her biceps, steadying her where Kanan couldn’t, with his own saber raised in their defense.

Shaking her head quickly, Ahsoka righted herself, brushing off the support readily as she ignited her sabers. “I’m alright, let’s focus-“

Another wave, a choking presence across the only Force bond she’d allowed herself.

Meht…

Her blade faltered, and a bolt of plasma broke her defense and singed the collar of her tunic, though it didn’t do much in cutting through skin, not with the thick material of the Akul hide protecting her body.

“Chopper! Get these doors closed, now!” Hera shouted; forever perceptive when it came to her Force Sensitive companions.

As the doors slammed shut and the chaos was silenced, Ahsoka found that the ground was rushing towards her all too fast, knees hitting durasteel almost simultaneously as Kanan dropped, a hand to his head as the darkness pervaded his defenses, poison sinking into the three of them with fangs they could not hope to remove.

“Ahsoka-“ Ezra’s face had paled, Zeb’s arms were wrapped tight around him, keeping him up as a cold fever rushed across his skin. “ What is this? ”

“We need to go- I need to go-“ Fulcrum rushed out, once again brushing off the Mandalorian and Twi’lek’s hands from her arms as she forced herself to rise. It was no coincidence, and it was not just the Force trying to warn her, it was Shin, reaching across boundless space to call for help… and that darkness, it was an inquisitor.

Everything she’d done to protect them would be in vain if she didn’t get there fast enough. “Where do you need to go?” Hera offered readily, heart bigger than was safe.

“I need to go alone, it won’t be safe for your crew,” The pilot was going to argue, but Ahsoka didn’t have *time,* the moment she was on the Ghost, she was moving to the phantom. “I have to ask that you don’t track this, Hera. But I will return as soon as I can.”

Uneasy with the situation, Hera found herself acquiescing with only a nod of her head and a brush of her hand against the Togruta’s bicep. “Be safe, Ahsoka,”

Ahsoka did not acknowledge the crew further as she climbed into the Phantom and flew through her flight checks, undocking and engaging the thrusters and hyperdrive the moment she was able.

I’m coming, du tungama.

Scrambling to a panel along the far wall, Shin cut the remaining power to the shuttle, leaving only life support and the dim emergency lights as a way to see. There was only one lifeform pushing past the hatch and that , Shin could handle.

Huyang had left a box of spare lightsaber hilts out, which Shin was quick to take advantage of, spilling them out onto the floor around the airlock before scrambling to find cover under a bench as the stranger passed through.

Metal clanked and rolled as heavy footsteps found her surprise, though instead of something more startled , the stranger only laughed. Low, poisonous and foreboding. Through the dim lighting, Shin caught the lights reflecting off of black gloves, just barely catching sight of the stranger plucking a hilt from the floor. Tutting to themselves, the stranger allowed it to drop back down.

The noise reverberated through Shin’s skull, prompting them to huddle closer to the inside of the bench as the stranger began moving through the largest part of the cabin, looking for… something. When the door to their bunk hissed open, Shin took their move, scrambling on their hands and knees to crawl out from under the table.

Heart hammering in their chest, silver-blue eyes tried to focus, to see past the literal and figurative darkness that clouded their vision, forcing their breathing to still despite the effort that came with each forced inhale. If they were too loud, then she’d be done for; she just had to buy Ahsoka enough time-

This was the mantra they repeated to themselves as they scurried across a dark floor, hauling themselves into the cockpit and all but throwing themselves into the pilot's seat, fingers flying over the controls to see what could be done about forcing the ship to detach and getting comms back up.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” The woman sing-songed from the main cabin, footsteps heavy on the floor as she made her way around the outskirts. Shin focused on their presence in the Force, nearly recoiling from shock at the feeling that enveloped the stranger. How can a person be so… dark? A shiver ran up their spine, bile gathering in their throat as she heard the clatter of things being thrown around; the shattering of a datapad rang particularly harsh in their ears, though they did not have time to mourn the loss as the footsteps rounded closer; “I know you’re in here, Fulcrum,” The woman hissed sharply.

The concentration it took to topple the plate on the table from their spot in the cockpit was immense, feeling through the force for the forgotten porcelain with stale toast sitting atop it. Just as the dark stranger passed the threshold, Shin found her grasp, sending the plate and food off the table behind them with a clatter.

A predator who’d just smelled blood, the woman turned away from the cockpit, steps loud as they retreated back to the table. The click hiss of a saber igniting was familiar, freezing Shin’s blood as they hauled themselves into the small hollowed space in the cockpit walls.

The table split in half all too easily under the sweeping strike, if Shin hadn’t moved, they were certain that the swing of the blade would have gone clean through their head. Crimson light bled through the doors into the dark space, filling the air with burning ozone and the reek of crisped bread.

“Coward!” Their voice was distorted like they were speaking through a mask, though Shin could hear the raw anger in their scream as the saber sliced through what they had to assume was a bench. The smell of scorched fibers let Shin know that they’d neglected to move their poncho from the back of the bench like Ahsoka had asked them to at least five times before she’d left that morning .

Meht, please get here, I won’t argue about coming with you ever again, just… hurry, please .

The walls didn’t extend very far, at least, not the hallowed portions that they could move through. The pipes were hot, and Shin could feel perspiration building at their temple as they moved to the gap in the ceiling that would give them some kind of vantage point.

Through the first gap, Shin caught sight of the stranger, tall, draped in black cloth and adorned with shining armor, equally as black, with a mask that they weren’t sure anyone could truly see out of covering their face. The woman was nearing the door to Huyang’s room, obviously catching the still glowing embers of where Shin had punctured his control panel.

There was a tug in her gut as she watched them approach. Ahsoka had told them about Huyang’s survival, of his importance to who the Jedi were, had been for so long; no one knew what it meant to be a Jedi more than him, and the Empire would soil that; She couldn’t let this… Imperial ruin that for the world.

A discarded saber hilt flung through the air at Shin’s command, bouncing harmlessly off the armor, scraping against the polished paint job once it hit. As the woman’s head turned, Shin dropped down from the vent, boots smacking the ground with a bodily thump .

The Inquisitor was quick to turn towards them, though they did not seem startled by the sudden appearance, in fact… were they shaking?

Her shoulders shook as dark laughter barked from her throat.

Oh… being laughed at. This was the worst way to die… huh?

“ You? You expect me to believe Agent Fulcrum is a child? ” She could barely speak through her laughter as Shin lifted their chin.

The child did not respond, simply squaring their feet like Huyang had taught them, cementing their place between the woman and the door. Ahsoka will be here soon.

The snap hiss of their saber activating was grounding, something familiar they could use to anchor themselves as blue light ignited the cabin, allowing them to see the damage that had been caused at last. Everything had been torn from their places and scattered across the ground, broken and destroyed without a care in the world. Even the picture frames that held digital memories flickered and faded, screens cracked beyond repair from where they’d been stomped all over.

“Mmm, perhaps I did underestimate you,” She could not see the woman’s eyes, but she could feel them, how they raked over her form and analyzed the stance. “ Jedi? Clearly trained…” Shin was taken aback a moment as the woman rambled off notes to herself. “You’re in a form two stance, I haven’t had the pleasure of gutting many who’d favored such a form, would you like to be the first?”

“Sounds like you’d rather be the first one to die here,” They ground out with as much courage as they could manage, though their voice wavered on the syllables. Shin had never taken a life, never imagined it as something they would have to do, but… if they had to do it to protect Huyang, then they would. “You can take this chance to walk away, though, it doesn’t have to go like this,”

The woman across from her blanched at the words, and for a moment, Shin had the childish belief that she would listen, see the error of her ways, and go away . Luck, however, did not appear to be on the Padawan’s side as a crimson snap hiss seemed to suck the air from the room, and her lungs. Red, blue, and purple lit up the inside of the ship, suddenly, Shin’s saber felt heavier, everything felt like too much, and there was a flash of hopelessness that filled their senses.

“The Jedi Code is a sickness,” The woman mocked. Silver eyes caught the way her fingers twitched, a hint that The Force was being turned on them to weigh them down with the malady of the Dark Side. “Do you know why your people failed so easily, young one?”

Shin did not answer, though they assumed the woman would have continued either way as their saber rotated smoothly around their wrist, as if it were some kind of plaything. Or maybe Shin was the plaything and had only tricked themselves into believing they were an equal .

“The one thing people in this galaxy love to see more than Jedi heroes is to watch them fall. This galaxy.. It’s sick . How the scum of the world turned on their heroes so fast, just to enjoy the fall. In spite of everything you do for them, they hate you, have from the start.” A pause as if she was considering her own words. “But… you’re young yet… your Master…”

Shin’s breath hitched at the mention of Ahsoka, was the Inquisitor in their head? A tilt of the woman’s head across from her confirmed the theory that their shields had fallen. “Your Master thinks you aren’t ready, yet here you are, standing up to me…” They could practically feel the smile on her lips. “It isn’t too late for you, Padawan.”

“I warned you,” It was all Shin could choke out before they found themselves lunging forward. Their blade moved along the side in a wide arc, clashing against red all too easily as rich laughter bounced off the walls.

“Oh yes, how could I have forgotten,” The woman barked, seemingly enjoying herself as she countered the swift blows Shin threw at them in quick succession. Tutting occasionally, Shin found the woman calling out tips on their form, calling out their openings instead of moving in for the kill, and allowing them the time to cover the holes in their defenses.

Calling upon the Force to lend them strength and energy, Shin found themselves dipping into Form Five, though they had nowhere near the same skill as Ahsoka in this form, they found that the Inquisitor quieted with the change, and even seemed to be exerting themselves to keep defending themselves.

The smell of burning flesh met one of their strikes, startling enough to throw Shin off center as the Inquisitor hissed and jumped back from the blade that had sliced through their thigh. The woman cursed in a language Shin did not know, though when they bounced back, it was with renewed vigor. “Perhaps you aren’t as pathetic as I thought,” She growled, hand shoving out to command an invisible wall of the Force that sent Shin back into the wall.

It took every ounce of training she’d ever had to keep hold of her saber as her back crashed into the mess on the counter from Ahsoka’s caff. Pinpricks itched at their back where glass had shattered, though it was forgotten as the pre-teen was quickly pushed on the defensive against an opponent much larger than themselves. Each hit came down with a staggering force, keeping the child pinned at the counter as they intercepted the crimson blade with their own.

Bracing their hand against the counter to push back against the growing force against their saber, muscles tiring quickly as sweat ran in rivers down their face, Shin was helpless but to watch as a heavy boot was raised and kicked out against their hand, smashing it between the edge of the counter and the crisp tread of their sole.

Their breath caught in their throat, swallowing the shout of pain that threatened to tear past, tears welled up in their eyes and their teeth grit together hard, even as the boot stayed against their hand, putting it there as more weight was pressed into it.

The Inquisitor was getting joy from their bitten-back screams, finding delight in the way their brow wavered as sweat and silent tears made the white paint on their reddening face begin to run.

Reaching past their sabers, two gloved hands reached out to grasp her jaw, earring another choked sound as their head was turned to face the white-hot light of their sabers clashing together. “You’re good stock, it would be a shame to waste your potential,”

Words were not spoken to Shin, but about her, as if they had nothing to offer besides a pretty face, even as they managed to hold their… mild, defense against the older woman.

Shin’s saber deactivated in a knee-jerk reaction; the sight of a red blade streaking towards their head felt a lot like free-falling through the air, though they were fast- fast enough to duck their head below the blade and shove back up, catching the hard material of the woman’s mask with their forehead.

The Inquisitor stumbled with the force, releasing their hold on Shin’s foot as they took several steps back to steady themselves, a hand even disappeared under their mask for a moment.

Shin noticed with glee, as their heart plummeted to the floor, and with it, their knees giving from under their frame, broken hand and still burning saber hitting the ground in a way that had them biting back a yelp, the Inquisitor’s glove was bloody when it came from under the mask.

But Shin had no more fight in them, their arms shook from exertion, and the pain in their hand shot from their fingertips all the way along ignited nerves to their chest. Every ounce of their weight supported on their left hand that found support through broken fingers threatened to break the dam, their control of the Force was slipping with each attempt they made to will it in helping her stand, and the Inquisitor was recovering fast.

“You are going to regret that!” The Inquisitor growled, voice slurred, as if she were speaking around a heavy tongue, a minor win in Shin’s book, until, at least, the same boot that cracked down on their hand began to lift again.

Shin’s hand raised a vain effort, a silent plea for mercy as she drew near. Their head turned down, catching the bottom of the boot in the back of the head, squeezing their eyes shut tight just in time; they weren’t sure if they’d have been able to stomach just how fast their face had met the ground. The searing pain that exploded had been enough to put the child out, slumping bonelessly into the ground beneath the Inquisitor’s foot.

Where was Ahsoka…?

As the phantom pulled into the last coordinates of the T-6, Ahsoka immediately noticed the signs of forced entry. Airlock hatch pieces floating uselessly in the open space around it. As she began the approach, she scanned for a signal, of some type of life. “Huyang?” She called over the comms, grimacing at the static that flooded the line she was met with.

As she advanced, she heard a quiet beep, hidden under the static, a beeping noise, the sound of a recording being rewound as the static cleared. “Imperial patrols are boarding the ship. I repeat; Imperial patrols are boarding the ship. I… I think it’s an Inquisitor, it’s dark… and so cold. Please hurry. There's not much time… I’ll try to hold them off, meht… I’m sorry…” Then, a loud flash of static and a robotic monotone. “This message will repeat.” With panic stirring in her heart, Ahsoka managed to use the phantom’s emergency gear to latch onto the side of the T-6 and jerry-rig a connector for the airlock, dropping into the dark abyss that met her the moment the door was open.

The darkness that enveloped her the moment she crossed the threshold was overwhelming, though, after going yoke to yoke with Darth Vader, she’d found it easy to push past the veil and forge onwards.

Lightsaber hilts cluttered all over the floor, spilled in what would have been a strategic way if someone hadn’t already trampled through them all. Burning metal, fabric, and the familiar tang of blood met her nose as she continued her investigation in the dark, blue eyes practically glowing as they adjusted to the barely there emergency lights.

There were scorch marks all over the ship; from a cut through the table and benches, so slicing through the door of Shin’s bunk room. As Ahsoka explored, material possessions cracked under her boots, unable to find a clear path that avoided the scenes of the battle. She could hear the recent echos in the force, and with each blink, she would watch as blue met red in a flurry of motion, as a towering black figure advanced on someone much smaller, though each time she tried to focus on the Force’s interpretation of the small figure, they would change. One moment, she would see Shin standing against the figure, then herself, from the Clone Wars, ending with a vision of herself in the present. It didn’t make sense, as only one of these days had come to pass in the worst way possible, though Ahsoka did not have time to focus on that.

There was one marking that seemed strategic, the burns had long since gone cold, so it couldn’t have been from the fighting. Igniting her saber and bringing light to the scene in front of her, the Togruta was forced to take pause. Red ichor painted the countertop around shattered mugs and an old teapot she’d gotten from Rex before they’d parted ways. “Shin…” Her voice was that of a mournful rumble, the pain too great to handle.

Falling into her old ways was easy, a second skin to the survivor who had no choice. The pain was pushed to the recesses of her mind as she focused on her next steps; Where was Huyang? Was Shin alive? How would she find them? Did she give up on her? Did Ahsoka fail her not only as Master but as mother as well?

Focusing on the task at hand, Ahsoka sunk her blade into the durasteel of Huyang’s door. The metal did not give easily, offering a hearty resistance as she sliced a hole through the shot panel. Once a hole big enough to step through was created, the woman pushed forward with her saber held high.

“Lady T-T-T” A malfunctioning voice rasped, though there was no light in the collapsed droid’s eyes. “Tano,”

“Huyang,” Ahsoka breathed, finding a small relief in the professor’s survival. “Huyang, what happened, where is Shin?” She knelt before the droid, peering at the mess of limbs and wires that had been damaged in his fall.

“Padawan Tano lo-lo-lo-locked me in here before they arrived-” His head snapped at a ninety-degree angle with a crack before slowly righting itself to face her. “I went into low power mode, they must have assumed I powered off,”

Reaching into his chassis, Ahsoka managed to reconnect enough wire to get his eyes lit back up, and even get him movement over his own arms again. “She’s alive, the Inquisitor wanted her alive,” He managed to recall, using his renewed control of his arms to shift himself off the corner of his workbench, allowing Ahsoka to sit him on the table to lean his upper half back against the cabinets.

“We need to get the ship back together and find her… fast.”

“Agreed, although…” His eyes shifted to the carnage beyond his doorway. “We have our work cut out for us,”

“We won’t be able to land anywhere near the Rebellion, they’ll have eyes on this ship, and I need to get the phantom away from here as fast as possible… If they can track us, who’s to say they can’t track Her.” The Togruta worried her lip; Focusing on Leia was easier than focusing on the Shin’s pain that echoed through the force here.

Putting herself to work on fixing Huyang was good, it was productive, and she didn’t have to think as she went about the methodical task of removing ruined parts, reattaching pieces that had only been tugged from their sockets, and moving around his workspace, tugging down drawers of spare materials, to his annoyance.

By the time she’d finished, Huyang had most of his fine motor skills back, although she wasn't able to reconnect the pieces that went to the arms on his back with what she had, they’d need to find a real droid mechanic somewhere out here first.

The rest of the ship… was a bigger problem. Oil, coolant, and fuel leaked out inside the ship, thanks to the deep gouges across floors and walls, the only reason the fumes didn’t get her was in part, thanks to the fact that life-support had stayed on, allowing the vents to increase their usage once the lower explosive limit alarms had been set off. “We won’t be able to start the ship,” Ahsoka complained as she popped open the face of an intact control panel. “Not until we get those leaks contained and find some way to refuel.”

Huyang had trailed after her out of his workshop and had paused at the carnage around their home, though Ahsoka did not hear anything from him, even as she got the lights to power back up. When she turned her head to look over her shoulder, her heart nearly froze.

Shin’s lightsaber was cradled in both of his hands, blood smeared across the Alderaniaan hilt, scratches, chips, and scuff marks marring the materials where it had been thrown around. Ahsoka stood there, unable to move, breathe, or speak, as Huyang’s thumb swiped down the saber’s hilt mournfully, blinking at the sight before him.

Tearing her eyes from sight was one of the hardest things anyone could have expected her to do, and still, she managed to do so, focusing instead on darker droplets of blood just feet away from where Huyang had been standing. “Huyang, look,” With the lights on the stains around the cabin, it was clear that the ichor spilled was from two different beings, and the blood in front of her was clearly from someone dark and twisted, everything about them had been poisoned, so it only made sense even their blood would be tainted.

Huyang studied the droplets as well, rising to his feet after a moment as he tucked Shin’s saber safely at his hip for the time being, “Ahsoka,” He began, putting himself in her path, unallowing her from pushing past to the cockpit, “She is alive,” He spoke as if trying to offer comfort, though he did not see the way her lip quivered on her next breath.

That’s what I’m scared of . She was already facing the reality that Anakin very well could have Fallen, she couldn’t lose Shin, too. But she’d known the Fifth Brother and the Eighth Sister herself, had passed them in the Jedi temple all those years ago. They’d been younglings then, and Ahsoka understood that with the riht motivator, even the purest of people could be made to do the worst things. “We’re going to get her back,” Is all she could say, turning her head away from the droid as she pushed past him, ignoring the stinging in her eyes as she began picking up around the cabin. It was all she could say to keep the air in her lungs steady, to be able to take that next step forward at all. Whoever this Inquisitor was, they would pay, somehow, someway, Ahsoka would be sure they received everything the Force had in store for them.

#Shin Tano AU #Shin Hati #Ahsoka Tano #Leia Organa #Huyang #Fanfiction #somewillwin #star wars #ahsoka #Ghost Crew #ezra bridger #Hera Syndulla #kanan jarrus #garazeb orrelios #Sabine Wren #c1 10p

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belphegorspillow · 1 year

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I was wondering if you could write about mc wanting to go back to their original timeline after lesson 16 ଘ(੭ ᐛ )♡

Hi Hi Love! Of course I can :] Thank you for the request

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GN!MC wants to go back to the Original Timeline

Warning there is death mentioned + spoilers [lesson 16] [Mostly Barbatos centered]

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

Mc couldn't admit it to the brothers - but they have been having nightmares for the past few nights. The pain around their neck as if they felt they couldn't breathe.

The restless nights from nightmares and fear of what could happen while they were sleeping.

They want to go back, to where the brothers were kinder. Where Belphie considered them more as a friend than someone who killed his own sister.

The fear of the brothers possibly hurting them now was taking a large toll on them, that they were willing to do anything to leave.

That night, Mammon was clinging onto Mc's side as Belphie slept on their lap. Beel was on their left next to Mammon as Asmo as clinging onto Mc's free side. Levi was grumbling about how unfair it was.

As the group were watching Movies, the door slammed open, scaring the group as Lucifer entered.

"All of you out. Leave MC alone." Lucifer sighed and went to grab the back of Mammon's shirt as well as the sleeping Belphie to drag them out while he demanded the rest to leave Mc alone for now. As the group were fighting about it and lucifer changing into his demon form to use more of his power to get his brothers out the room...

Something in Mc broke as they stared at the black wings of the eldest..

"Good night Mc. Rest well." Lucifer sighed and closed the door after Mc softly replied a goodnight.

Mc soon would grabbed a bag stuffing whatever could fit inside before opening the window and leaving the house. They would get to the Diavolo's castle on foot. Barbatos will help them leave and go back.

Nothing was going to stop them. They wanted to go back. Go Home. To their real home. Not this one.

As they would enter Barbatos's room inside the castle, they were faced with the Butler who stood at the door. "Mc? Come inside." He allowed Mc in and lead them over to the bed inside the room. "What brings you here?"

"I want to leave..." Barbatos didn't expect that sudden demand. "I want to go back to the other timeline...where...where I...didn't...die... The one where I... I feel safe."

Barbatos looks at Mc and let out a sigh. "Mc. As much as I would want to help. The Barbatos in that timeline, got rid of it when the other you perished."

Mc froze as they stare at Barbatos. "Can't...you bring it back..." Barbatos just shook his head. "No. Mc. I can't..."

Mc would stare at the ground, their hands gripping onto the fabric of their night attire. Their vision blurred as tears fell onto their hands. They were stuck here.

With their murderer, with demons who tried to kill them, over and over.

They just want to go home.

Barbatos just watched in silence, he didn't know if he should comfort, but resorted in that Mc needed time. "I will be back. I will get you some tea..."

Once Barbatos left, he could hear loud cries coming from his room. As much as he wanted to help. He couldn't.

Barbatos was powerless in this situation.

And he never felt so upset in his life for failing you.

#obey me #obey me barbatos #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #obey me x gn reader #obey me satan #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me mc #obey me gn reader #angst

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starboybutler · 1 year

Note

Hi! I noticed you were looking for request ideas. Your little E fics really intrigue me. Maybe you could write something about the Colonel getting upset with him for whatever reason and him trying his best not to cry and slip into littlespace, only for him to slip and need your (GN reader) comfort after he's gone? (Sorry, I hope I'm making sense here lol!)

im glad my fics intrigue you in some way!! i always have room for little!e, so here we go 🫶🏽 (sorry this took so long, i kept rewriting it because i was literally NEVER happy with it 😭)

Relax

as soon as the door opened up, you knew something was off with elvis.

he had been coming home slightly later than usual for the past few days. he would stay late in the evenings talking to the colonel about a 'christmas special' he had planned for elvis.

the special itself wasn't the issue-- elvis was ecstatic at a chance to be on stage again after doing only movies for so long. he just didn't want it to be a christmas special. the colonel was so adamant about it however-- and elvis felt so powerless against him on the matter. you hated that the colonel made him feel so discouraged about the thing he was so passionate about.

"e?" you muttered softly, putting down the book you were reading and stepping towards him as he entered the room, his head hung low. he lifted his head slightly, giving an unconvincing smile as you placed a gentle hand on his cheek. "what's wrong?"

"nothing, honey." he says lowly, sighing softly and closing his eyes. he looked tired. he never slept the best, and now that the colonel had been keeping him out later than normal, he had been getting even more restless. he wouldn't tell you what he was worrying about, but you knew that the colonel had something to do with it. he always did. elvis gave a small hum, his blue eyes fixed on you gently.

"i'm just...tired i guess."

his eyes looked glassy, like he was on the verge of tears. you bring your thumb to stroke his cheek, the tender touch making him sigh as you lean closer to him. you decided at that moment that it was time to stop dancing around the topic of whatever was causing him stress. you couldn't stand to see him upset, and you hated when he held in his emotions like this.

"okay honey," you murmur, still gently stroking his cheek with your thumb. "how did things go with the colonel?"

he stiffened under your touch, his eyes snapped away from you, wide and shiny with unshed tears as he spoke softly. "it went fine." he grit out.

his voice was barely above a whisper, and slightly hoarse as he spoke. you knew then and there that something was wrong. he looked like he was two seconds from crying as you cocked your head to the side, pouting softly.

"that doesn't sound very convincing, e." you sigh, stroking his cheek with your thumb softly as you stare at him with a soft, concerned expression. you hated seeing him like this-- so downtrodden and upset, all because of the colonel. you'd kill that man if it was legal.

"look, let's just sleep it off if you don't wanna talk, okay?" you purr softly, making the corner of his lip twitch up slightly.

"okay," he mutters, leaning into your soft touch and closing his eyes.

you go to close the door behind him, dimming the lights and humming softly to yourself. he watches you move with large eyes, taking his hand and guiding him to the bed to sit on the edge.

"you wanna change outta those clothes?" you ask, brushing a stray piece of fluff off of his shoulder gently. he stiffens, moving to stand up and dust himself off flusteredly.

"i-i can change myself," he murmurs.

you saw that familiar glint of vulnerability in his eye. you had known about his tendency to slip into a more vulnerable headspace where he needed your care for a while-- but he was still embarrassed about it for a reason you couldn't quite figure out. you told him it didn't bother you one bit, and that you would gladly drop everything and take care of him whenever he needed it.

"e..." you sigh, and he turns his head away abruptly, his face flushing.

"don't," he whines softly, cheeks a sweet pink as he moves to stand. "i-i don't wanna bother you right now."

"you're not bothering me," you say firmly, stroking along his jaw. "i love you, and my little prince with all my heart." you coo, nuzzling your nose against his jaw and making him whine low in his throat.

he's quiet for a moment, his hands moving to wring together nervously as you pull back and look into his eyes gently. he looks like a little boy, vulnerable and desperate for attention as his lips parted softly.

"promise?" he asks lowly, voice soft and low, blinking owlishly at you.

"i promise," you sigh lowly, running a soft hand through his hair. "now let's go take a bath, okay little prince?"

"okay."

#elvis x reader #austin!elvis x y/n #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #asks #austin!elvis x reader #little e #little prince

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acourtofthought · 1 year

Text

Gwynriel Stuff

Gwyn asked, on Nesta’s other side, “Do you have them often?” “Yes.” Nesta finished a sit-up, grunting through the weakness in her middle. “Me too,” Gwyn said quietly. “Some nights, I need a sleeping potion from our healer to knock me out.”

"I wish I could" he answered silently. But sleep so rarely found him these days.

They both struggle to sleep and would both find peace at night together which he already found a little bit of on the rooftop that night 🥹

Also, is it just me or does it seem like the shadows tried to prevent Az from making the mistake he did with Elain while trying to encourage him to spend more time with Gwyn?

Azriel snickered to himself, to the listening shadows around him. "Sleep, they seemed to whisper in his ear. Sleep"

But Az ignored the shadows, staying by the fireplace longer ("he knew he'd be swallowed by it if he went up to his bedroom, so he remained down here by the dying light of the fire") until he eventually left which is when he ran into Elain. Had he listened to the shadows in the first place, the situation with Elain and Rhys would have never happened, preventing Az from feeling even worse than he originally did. They knew when she returned to her room which to me means they also knew she was awake and the shadows may have encouraged Az to leave before anything more happened.

But where they initially encouraged him to sleep, they no longer seemed all that worried about it when they were "content to lounge on his shoulders to watch" Gwyn, after that restless feeling inside of Az settled.

The shadows seem to sense what Az needs while Az ignores their advice which isn't that surprising when you look back at Azriel's history and his refusal to listen to anyone who tells him what to do, even if it's the smart thing:

Azriel had sealed them in, and as his scarred hands wrapped around Eris’s throat, Rhys said, “Enough.” Azriel squeezed, Eris thrashing beneath him. No physical brawling—there had been a rule against that, but Azriel, with whatever power those shadows gave him … “Enough, Azriel,” Rhys ordered. Azriel dug his knee—and all his weight—into Eris’s gut. He was silent, utterly silent as he ripped the air from Eris’s body. “Call off your overgrown bat,” Beron ordered Rhys.

“I’m going in,” Azriel said. “No,” Rhys snapped. But Azriel was spreading his wings, the sunlight so stark on the new, slashing scars down the membrane. “Chain me to a tree, Rhys,” Azriel said softly. “Go ahead.” He began checking the buckles on his weapons. “I’ll rip it out of the ground and fly with it on my damned back.”

“I want to confirm that Briallyn has the Crown,” Azriel said. “I’ll travel to the human lands tomorrow.” “No,” Feyre and Rhys said at the same time, in the same breath. Azriel’s eyes shuttered. “I wasn’t asking for permission.” Rhys smirked. “Doesn’t matter.” Az opened his mouth to object, but Feyre said, “You’re not going, Azriel. “Give me some credit, Feyre,” Az said. “I can keep hidden well enough.” “We take no risks,” Feyre said, voice flat with command. “Pull all your spies out.” “Like hell I will.”

I have hope we'll soon be entering an era of Az making smarter choices though, we get the first hints that he can learn to respect the chain of command:

The High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court had faced off against the shadowsinger this afternoon, and emerged triumphant. Perhaps triumphant wasn’t the right word, but the argument had ended with Azriel grudgingly agreeing not to spy on Briallyn for the time being—and brooding all through dinner.

And he only went near Briallyn to retrieve Eris when Feyre and Rhys allowed it:

Az said, “We have to get him out.” Cassian drew up short. “We?” Rhys stepped up next to Azriel, Feyre beside him. A formidable wall. “We can’t go,” Feyre said, nodding to Rhys.“You and Azriel need to retrieve Eris.” “Why not you?” Feyre pinched the bridge of her nose. “Because Amren is …” “Powerless,” Amren snarled. “You can say it, girl.” Feyre winced. “Mor left for Vallahan this morning and is out of our daemati magic’s range. Az can’t go in alone. We need you, Cassian.”

Which also means Rhys ordering him to stay away from Elain when Az couldn't convince him that he had actual feelings for her won't necessarily result in Az disobeying him as some think.

#pro gwynriel #gwynriel #azriel acosf #gwyn acosf

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thefanficmonster · 1 year

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All Out of Luck

Dylan Lenivy x Reader (He/They) [The Quarry]

Warnings: SPOILERS for The Quarry, Mentions of an attack, Description of injury, Blood, Near death experience, Swearing

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Romance

Summary: Following his heroic efforts in defending their friends, Y/N finds himself in a rather excrushiating predicament. Good thing they have a hand to hold throughout the agony.

Requested by @hungrypigeon Hi dear! Thank you so much for your request. I apologize for the wait but I hope the final product makes it worth your while! Love, Vy ❤️

“Fuck, get them inside!“ Kaitlyn’s voice, followed by a deafening gunshot barely manages to pierce through the thick layers of shock and panic that has completely paralyzed her companions. Realizing this, she makes a point to give Dylan’s shoulder a firm shake, calling out his name.

By the time he’s ‘come to’, Kaitlyn has once again redirected her attention to the malevolent creature that is the cause of the shock and fear he’s frozen as a result of.

His gaze hesitantly travels down to the bruised, dirtied and bloodied Y/N, whose freshly opened wound has rendered him powerless. That’s when Kaitlyn’s words start to make sense to Dylan, both who she was referring to and where to take him.

“Come on, Y/N.“ He mutters as he kneels down next to his friend’s barely moving body. His heavy breaths and agonized groans are almost inaudible due to the lack of energy and air reaching their lungs. His vision is giving up on him, vignetting around the edges and blurring in the distance. That’s why their arm is so limp and lifeless when Dylan drapes it around his shoulders, “This is not how you go. Either I kill you or you live forever, do you understand?“

Weakness and exhaustion aside, Y/N finds it in himself to chuckle, “That thing might be beating you to it.”

“Not if I have any say in it!“

One look over his shoulder confirms Kaitlyn is handling her own quite well, which also prompts him to head straight for the lodge, carrying the entirety of Y/N’s weight on his shoulder. His blood pumps loudly in his ears, the adrenaline coursing his veins didn’t have the time to calm down after the severing of his hand before it was kicked back up into high gear just moments ago.

When Y/N jumped directly in front of the creature to shield Dylan and Kaitlyn from its attack.

Luckily, the wound inflicted on them wasn’t a bite so they aren’t infected, but the werewolf’s claws dug deep into their abdomen, leaving a gnarly sight and an even worse possible outcome in the future.

His case doesn’t seem salvageable, not with the minimal medical resources they have available.

All Dylan’s fate is placed into Kaitlyn’s hands and medical skills but he knows she isn’t a miracle worker. He knows there’s very little they can do. But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t do all he can and beyond. He won’t be able to forgive himself or the cruel fate that placed them in such a fucked up situation, never giving either of them a chance.

Truth is, there were many chances. There was an entire summer worth of chances. There was two months worth of opportunities for Dylan to put into words how he feels about his ‘rival’. How his heart sped up every time they’d get in a quarrel, or how butterflies ate away at his stomach each time they made eye contact from across the room.

He had all the time in the world, but let it all go to waste. But he still has the right to say it’s unfair. Because it is. Non of the is is fair. None of them deserve this. Hell, if he had any less self preservation in him, he would’ve taken on that werewolf with nothing but his bare hands to brandish at it. Oh, an his anger. Lots of it.

That’s all he can think about as he sits in the chair next to the makeshift bed in the nurse’s station, leg bouncing with his heart lodged into his throat as he observes the restless but also limp form that is Y/N’s body.

He can’t help but think back, flip through the book in his brain that’s a collection of all the memories they made during these past ten weeks. And it still seems far from enough. It seems stupidly wasted, all the time they had on their hands, with all the words they allowed to dangle unsaid in the air.

Just like the silent agreement that these might be the last moments they ever spend together.

“What are you thinking about?“ Y/N’s voice snaps the dazed Dylan out of his internal downward spiral. The most he can offer in response at first is a single raised eyebrow which earns him an eyeroll from them, “Don’t give me that shit. I can hear your gears turning from over here.“

“To be fair, you’re not very far...“

He cuts him off almost immediately, “I said don’t give me that shit, I might not have long enough to live to listen to you beat around the bush.”

He’d argue otherwise, but he’s never, in the entire duration of their friendship, lied to Y/N. He’s not about to start now. He knows that they’ll value false hope a lot less that the realism Dylan is so reliant on. That being said, he cuts straight to answering his question, “I’m thinking how we’re all shit out of luck.”

Y/N scoffs, “You can say that again.“ He’s quick to regret his wording when he sees the smirk playing at the corner of Dylan’s lips. They point a warning finger at him, “Don’t actually say it again, you dummy.“

The accused chuckles, “Fine, I won’t. But I really mean it. It’s a shitty end to what was one awesome summer.”

“Could’ve been one awesome final night as well, but noooo, shit just had to go south.“ He says bitterly, groaning under his breath when he accidentally contracts the muscles of their abdomen too hard.

Dylan’s eyebrows rise with curiosity, “You had some grand plans too?”

“Yeah...“ they sigh, before the realization hits them, that is, “Wait, ‘too’?“

Y/N never gets a follow up to his inquisition though because a split second later, Kaitlyn comes into the room, fighting to catch her breath. She’s quick to pull herself together, before either of the people present could ask of her wellbeing, and put the gun aside.

“Alright, let’s check on that chasm in your abdomen, shall we?“ She asks cheerily, as if she’s addressing a kid with a scraped knee. It’s a good technique which puts a certain ease in the room’s atmosphere.

The two nod as Kaitlyn cleans her hands up and adorns a pair of latex gloves. However, her quip wasn’t enough to completely wipe the fear from Y/N and the remnants of it have clearly painted themselves on his face. It’s a detail that doesn’t fly by unnoticed on Dylan’s part.

“Hey.“ He whispers, capturing Y/N’s attention, “That’s probably gonna hurt, wanna hold my hand?“

Typically, Y/N would make a joke. Hell, if the situation wasn’t so out of the ordinary, the offer itself would’ve been a joke - with more than a half-truth to it. But right now, neither of them is joking. Not Dylan with his offer and not Y/N with the nod he gives in response.

“Wait, it’s better if I don’t. You don’t wanna lose that hand too, do you?“ He remarks, getting a laugh out of the brunette. The positive reaction drenches them in relief, “I mean, you’re already all out of luck as it is....”

Dylan shakes his head, “I’m not. Not yet, at least. I’ll be all out of luck if I lose you, dumbass.”

It’s dark, with the moonlight seeping in through the blinds as the only lighting in the room, and yet Dylan could swear on his life he saw a blush creep on Y/N’s cheeks as he says, “I’d never be so cruel to leave you in a world without me in it.”

As jokingly as the sentence was spoken, it fills Dylan with a sense of hope, bringing an honest smile to his face, “I’ll hold you to it.”

“Good.“ Is the last Y/N can mutter before Kaitlyn injects him with something that knocks him out cold.

All the frightened boy has left is that sense of hope he’ll cling onto as well as Y/N’s promise. After all, he’s not one to break a promise he so confidently makes. That’s why Dylan decides to follow his example and make a concrete promise of his own

When they wake up, I’ll tell them how I feel

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sydsrichie · 2 years

Text

'til queendom come, ch. 6

[masterlist] [Ao3] [playlist]

aemond targaryen x targaryen oc

wordcount: 11,116

ch. 6, storm's end: then the storm broke, and the dragons danced.

warnings: canon-typical violence, canon-typical incest, abusive parent/child relationship, nsfw/18+ in later chapters, mentions of canon sexual violence & abuse (including against minors), spoilers for HoTD/F&B

a/n: please don't hate me for this one :) or if you do hate me, at least write me an ask telling me how you hate me so I can amuse myself with it :)

SPOILER WARNING: this chapter is where the spoilers for the books start! Unsullied, ye be warned!

The next days seemed to hold all the tension of a strung bow.

Prince Daemon had the castle garrison and even the dragonkeepers drilling in the yard, and Lord Corlys joined his wife at the war table. After some persuasion and a count of dragons and dragonriders, the Velaryons formally joined their Queen’s cause, and it all started to feel very real very fast.

Later in the morning, Jace and Luke would be taking flight, the elder to the Eyrie and Winterfell, the younger to Storm’s End.

At sunrise, however, Sena found herself on the battlements of Dragonstone, looking out across the bay. She could not sleep. Out there, over the horizon, was the family who had raised her. Helaena and her precious babes, whom Sena had only held once. Queen Alicent. The so-called Aegon II. And Aemond.

Aemond, who loved her. Aemond, who had called her a coward. And what was this, if not cowardice? Not knowing which way to turn, only knowing she wanted to run. Rhaenyra was the rightful Queen, Sena knew it in her bones. It had been the King’s wish - her dear, sweet uncle. And more than that, Rhaenyra was born to be Queen. She had all the qualities and training of a good ruler. She could be hard and soft, steel and silk. It was a balance that Sena admired, and one she was unable to strike herself.

Sena looked down and scrubbed her hands over her face in frustration - at her family, at herself. Could she get nothing right? She was forceful at all the wrong moments and then much too soft in the moments where she needed her strength. She felt herself being jerked around on a string by every member of this family and she felt powerless to stop it.

She sighed and leaned her forehead against her hands, willing the cool granite wall she leaned against to sap some of the restlessness from her exhausted body. She could not even fret properly, it seemed, her mind clouded with sleeplessness.

“It is a good place to think, is it not?”

Sena startled. She dipped into a deep curtsey. “Your Grace,” she said, keeping her eyes locked on the ground so as to avoid Queen Rhaenyra’s gaze.

“Rise,” her stepmother said, and Sena followed her command. “It seems I am not the only one in the castle who cannot find sleep.”

Sena shrugged as the Queen came to stand beside her, clothed in a simple black gown, hair unadorned except for a silver-blonde braid over one shoulder. “I just… didn’t believe it would come to this, my queen. Maybe that makes me a fool, like everyone says. I always knew there was a chance that Queen Alicent and Aegon… I just couldn’t live in a world where we would end up doing this to each other.”

Rhaenyra nodded solemnly. “I cannot say that makes you a fool, because I wanted to believe it too,” she sighed. “But believe me when I say I will do everything in my power to prevent this from turning to bloodshed. I no more want to turn dragon against dragon than I want to send my boys to war. I have already lost one child to this treachery,” she laid a hand on her still-swollen stomach, and Sena could see the pain that still pulled at her with every step. “I will not lose another.”

Sena sighed. She believed Rhaenyra would do all that was in her power, she just did not know if that was enough.

The Queen turned her gaze on her. “Why do you stay, Sena?”

“My queen?”

“You do not need to lie, not to me. You have no great love or loyalty to my husband. You cherish the young ones, yes, but they cannot rival the affection you have for my own brother and sister. And we both know I have been guilty of moving you about the board like a pawn in the past.”

The list of people who hadn’t used her as a pawn would be shorter at this point, so Sena could not hold it against her. “I swore obeisance to you, my queen.”

Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow. “That is a politician’s answer. Saying something without really saying anything,” she said. “The Dragonmont is not guarded day and night, you could take your dragon and go anywhere you like. King’s Landing, Dorne, Essos… what makes you stay?”

Sena considered the question properly for a moment. Why was she here? The Summer Isles, the Free Cities, further east to shadowy lands she had only ever read about - they all called her name. All she would have to do was mount Grey Ghost and chart her course east. She sighed. Why was she still here? “Someone needs to stop this family from bringing about its own extinction.” She said it more to herself than the Queen, but Rhaenyra bowed her head anyway. Whether it was shame or fear, Sena had no clue.

There was the sound of a door opening behind them and Maester Gerardys stepped out into the brisk morning air, his arms already laden down with rolls of parchment. “Your Grace, my lady,” he said, performing the appropriate bowing and scraping before handing over the papers. “Replies from Lords Massey and Celtigar, your Grace. A report on the training of the guard, and best estimates on the men we can count on rallying to our aid, should an attack come.”

Something dangerously like hope twinged in Sena as she eyed the papers in his arms. “Anything for me, maester?”

Gerardys looked caught off guard and surveyed the papers in his arms, as if he’d already forgotten she was there. “Er… oh yes! One here, my lady.”

He handed over a scroll with a broken seal and Sena unravelled it in haste, only for her heart to fall when she saw the header. “Oh.” It was only a bill from her seamstress for her new winter dresses. She would pass it on to her father’s steward to be paid.

The Queen was focused on the letters of the Lords she was hoping to rally to her cause. “Your Grace, I will take my leave of you so you might continue your work,” Sena said, bowing her head.

Rhaenyra nodded absently. “Thank you, my lady.”

Sena retreated, feeling no lighter than she had when she’d come up here.

She was in such a daze, her mind churning so quickly she nearly walked straight into Jace and Luke on the stairs. They were in their riding clothes, wearing heavy cloaks. “Sorry,” she mumbled, sidestepping them.

“We’re just about to leave,” Jace told her with a tight smile. He looked like he wasn’t sleeping well either.

“Of course,” she said, pinching her nose. How could she forget? “Safe travels. Don’t let Vermax and Arrax fly you into any migrating geese.”

Luke grinned at her, though he looked a little nervous. It was understandable, she guessed. It was a big journey and a heavy responsibility for one so young. “I shall be back in no time, I reckon. Mother says it is not a terribly long journey.”

“It is not,” she said, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “Just a leap across the bay, you’ve flown similar distances before. And your mother, your betrothed and I will await your return, to give you a hero’s welcome.” That made him blush as she turned on Jace. “And you, I know Lord Stark is ages with you, but I trust you won’t get up to any hooliganism with him-“

“I’m not a hooligan-“

She arched a teasing eyebrow. “Mhm. That’s what they all say. Just remember, you’re the Prince of Dragonstone, our future King. Come back safe.” With that, she pressed a kiss to his brow, then to Luke’s, who made a show of wriggling away from her with typical adolescent disgust. She laughed as they went on their way.

Jace paused and turned back to her. “If I see Lord Royce at the Eyrie,” he said with a twinkle in his eye, “I’ll tell him our sister wants her castle back.”

Sena grinned, shaking her head at him and watching until they were out of sight.

She spent the rest of the early hours of the morning in the training yard, desperate to rid her mind of some frenetic energy and get her blood pumping. But it seemed even her most time-honoured methods of calming herself down were evading her. All she could see on the training dummy was Aegon’s wispy hair, Ser Criston’s white cloak, Aemond’s eyepatch. All men she might have to meet on the battlefield before long.

She gave up when she overbalanced in a strike and her boot skidded in the mud, sending her to her arse. Not even a real opponent and she had still ended up dead. She groaned and threw her sword down. Seven Hells. At least her father was too wrapped up in his warmongering to have witnessed it.

She returned to her rooms to change out of her sullied breeches, picking up the dress she’d discarded on the floor earlier with a sigh. The letter Maester Gerardys had given her that morning fluttered out of the pocket, another menial task for her to busy herself with. She cast it down on her writing desk along with her other letters and was about to go back to changing when something caught her eye.

The bill had landed next to Aemond’s last letter to her, the one he’d sent before her journey to King’s Landing. And… the handwriting was similar.

Too similar. She picked them both up and squinted at them.

Aemond’s handwriting was as meticulous and controlled as he would have people believe him to be, and he crossed his ‘Z’s and his sevens. And the bill itself…

5 yards of Qartheen silk, sapphire blue.

She did not own such a gown, and it would be ridiculous to order one for winter at any rate.

For a second, she just stared at the invoice and the letter, side by side, trying to figure out what it could mean.

She scanned the writing for anything strange. Flipped the parchment over. Blank on the backside. Was she going mad? So lost in stress and longing she was seeing him everywhere?

Something itched, deep in her memory.

“I actually read something the other night about an invisible ink. We could write to each other with it and only the other will know how to make it appear!”

“Invisible ink? How?”

With a gasp, she held the parchment out over one of the pillar candles that lit the recesses of her room, watching the blank side with a sickening anxiousness.

The heat from the candle spread under the parchment, making the corners curl, and brown lettering began to appear. Her heart leapt. “Aemond,” she whispered.

My love,

I have no clue if this will work and no assurance that you will even remember a conversation between children some four-and-ten years ago, but I had to try.

I am so sorry. So sorry for everything I said that last night in the Red Keep, for putting you in this position between our two families. And I am so sorry for what I must tell you now.

My king has commanded me to Storm’s End, where I will win House Baratheon to our cause by pledging my own hand in marriage to one of Lord Borros’s daughters.

I have always loved you, Sena, and I fear I will until my dying day. My only hope is that in letting you go, I will make your choice easier for you. Run if you can. Fight if you must. Just know that wherever you are and whatever you do, my heart is yours.

“Oh,” she breathed. Oh.

She knew. She knew they would not be married now. She knew they were over, finished, a distant memory. They could not fight on opposite sides of this war and hold on for each other. Especially not Aemond, whose hand in marriage was as fine a boon as the greens had to offer. She never expected it to be so soon, though. It was a gut punch. It had not been a moon’s turn since he kissed her sweetly and told her he loved her, and now he was to fly to Storm’s End and claim a bride-

Storm’s End.

A blind panic climbed Sena’s throat and it was all she could do not to scream. The letter slipped from her hand and caught fire in the flame but she did not care. It could burn to ash on the flagstones, she had to go and go now.

Still in her training gear, she grabbed her cloak and flew out of the room, taking off down the hall at breakneck speed. There was no time. She could not even think on the Prince’s words, she could not begin to let herself feel what they meant, she only knew she had to get to Storm’s End now.

If their last visit to King’s Landing had made anything clear, it was that Aemond had spent the years since his eye was gouged out honing his rage like a weapon.

And that meant Luke was in danger.

Sena raced down the steps and into the great hall. She rounded the corner to go out to the yard - and clashed headlong into Rhaena.

“Sena!” The girl shrieked, holding her arms out to steady her sister. “What’s gotten into you?”

Sena tried to pull away but Rhaena held on. “I don’t have time to explain, Rhaena! Get father, get your grandmother, anyone you can, tell them to follow me to Storm’s End!”

Rhaena gaped at her. “What’s wrong?”

“Aemond will be there when Luke arrives!”

Rhaena blanched. “Gods,” she swore, and it struck Sena as an odd thing to hear coming from her youngest sister’s lips. Then they took off in separate directions at a run.

Sena sprinted out into the yard and thanked all the Gods that the gates were open to allow a shipment of food in. The guards were too stunned to stop her as she stripped past them. The Dragonmont was close now, and she followed the path to Grey Ghost’s cavern that she would have known in her sleep.

The half-blind grey dragon was already on high alert when she got to him, that peculiar thing in their bond that let him feel her own emotions at work. There was no time to saddle him - Luke already had an hour’s lead on her - so it would have to be like their first time flying together, then. They were both a little bigger than they had been then, but she trusted him. She clambered onto his back, wrapped her arms around his neck, and they were off. Grey Ghost prowled forward, following the dark cavern he knew by heart out of the Dragonmont. When Sena felt fresh air on her face, she commanded him “Sōvēs!” Fly!

Grey Ghost surged into the air with a mighty beat of his wings. As they climbed into the air above Dragonstone, she strained to see if she could spot anyone white haired following her to the Dragonmont. Hurry, she thought. Hurry. I don’t know if I can do this alone.

The morning sun cast the sky in a beautiful light, but as she guided Grey Ghost south, grey clouds loomed on the horizon. She gritted her teeth. She could not lose the sun. She had never been to Storm’s End in her life, could only point to it on a map. It was roughly equidistant to Dragonstone as King’s Landing, just in a more southernly direction, on the coast of the Narrow Sea. If Aemond had the chance to hurt Luke because she had not paid enough attention in her geography lessons-

There was no use even thinking about that, she thought firmly. Grey Ghost was a lot bigger than Arrax, his wingspan could make up for lost time.

Her arms were cramping already and she adjusted her position, settling back onto Grey Ghost as she would if she had a saddle. She clutched at the ridges of his spine and settled in for the ride. She kept looking back to see if any other dragons had joined her, but she could not make out any, and soon she would not be able to see far for the cloud cover. It looked like she may well be on her own.

South and ever so slightly west, Sena did her best to keep her bearing without the sun to guide her as the miles disappeared beneath Grey Ghost’s wings and Blackwater Bay gave way to more southernly waters. With every second, minute, hour ticking by, Sena’s heart thrummed in her chest, her stomach churning with nerves. Let her not be too late. Whatever Gods were listening, she begged them to hear her.

Then, true to their name, the skies above the Stormlands grew tempestuous. There was a far off rumble of thunder. Hope and dread mixed in equal parts inside her. Maybe Luke had not even made it to Storm’s End? Maybe Arrax had grown fearful and turned around, navigating back to safety, away from the storm.

Or maybe he had been struck down by a stray bolt of lightning.

The first droplets of rain stung Sena’s cheeks. She looked down past Grey Ghost’s wings and racked her brains. A large isle sprawled out to her left. Could it be Tarth? That meant that the bay below her was Shipbreaker Bay, so Storm’s End was due south-west. The visibility was poor - the spitting rain had turned into a downpour - but she thought she could make out the ancient keep dating back to the Age of Heroes, standing in defiance against the wind and waves.

The clouds encroached and the rain was pouring down. Grey Ghost howled in distress. He was flying blind in this weather and the wind was throwing him around. She was both of their eyes now, she thought dully. The Gods had a sick sense of humour.

Just when she was about to give up and land Grey Ghost further up the coast - she would have a better chance reaching Storm’s End alive on foot in this weather - a sudden blast of flame caught her eye. Dragon flame. “Bē! Paktot!” She commanded, and Grey Ghost loyally obeyed despite his distress, curving his path up and to the right. I’m so sorry, she longed to tell him, I’m so sorry for scaring you like this. But she didn’t. She would tell him when she got them both out of this alive.

She could make out Arrax now, a small shape, rising high into the clouds. Thank the Gods, she thought, and commanded Grey Ghost after him. If Arrax was alright, there was a chance. A chance that Luke was alive and clinging to his back.

Light burst across Sena’s field of vision as they broke the cloud cover, and Grey Ghost screeched at the sudden brightness. She blinked rapidly, and ahead of her she saw a small figure on Arrax’s back, twisting at the sound of Grey Ghost’s screech.

“Sena?” Came a faint cry on the wind, from a familiar boyish voice.

“Luke!” Sena screamed in reply, relief crashing over her like a tidal wave. He was okay! He was alive. Gods be good, he was alive.

“No! Run!” He was shouting back to her, barely audible, and the relief she felt melted away as she took in his and his dragon’s panic.

If Luke was okay… what had Arrax been breathing fire at?

That was when the largest dragon she had ever seen broke through the clouds.

Time slowed. Arrax was in distress, flapping his wings violently to stay aloft on the thin air. She could hear a familiar voice mounted on the newcomer howling commands, commands she knew like the back of her hand, but the ancient beast gave no sign that they had been heard.

Luke was not looking, too distracted by her presence.

In some small way, she was glad of that. Glad she could save him the fear before the end.

It felt like a thousand years, but it was all over in a heartbeat.

“No!” A scream ripped free of her throat as she watched Vhagar’s jaws close around the youngling dragon. Arrax’s wing drifted on the breeze, no longer attached to a body.

There was nothing left of Luke.

Grey Ghost roared and let free a blast of flame in his distress, banking rapidly out of Vhagar’s path, back down into the clouds. Sena’s arms screamed at the sudden turn and she threw herself down onto her dragon’s neck, rain battering their bodies as they fell down, down, anywhere but into Vhagar’s jaws. Grey Ghost was practically sightless again in the dark and the lashing rain, and Sena was numb all over. Could not think or act or even breathe. She heard Vhagar’s roar and knew the beast was descending too, closing in on them. They needed to change paths now, before she met the same fate as her poor little brother.

She could see the water rising up to meet her, and she commanded Grey Ghost to swerve flat. They were low over the bay now, the cliffs were rising around them on all sides and only one of them could see where they were going.

That was when a furnace blast blew past her. Her cloak caught alight and before she could unclasp it, it was singeing into the back of her legs and Grey Ghost’s scales. She screamed in agony and Grey Ghost panicked, banking again, flying this way and that, desperate to get out of Vhagar’s sights.

They got so turned around that she could not even see Vhagar or the bay or anything anymore, lost in the storm with the senseless turns they had taken. Then, right at the last second, lightning flashed and Sena caught sight of the jagged cliffs that rose above Shipbreaker Bay. Dead ahead. So close, there was no time, no time to command Grey Ghost to turn, no time to do anything but-

Let go.

She let go.

She closed her eyes, but even the wind howling past her ears could not drown out the sickening crunch as the blind dragon collided headlong with the cliff.

Sena’s body hit the water with force and she collided with the rocks at the base of the cliff, hidden just under the sea foam. White hot agony ripped through her side, knocking the air from her lungs. She surfaced, gasping for air and not being able to draw any as the icy cold water buffeted her from side to side, scraping her limbs over the razor sharp rocks surrounding her on all sides. She was lost and helpless, barely able to tell which way was up and then the water was surging over her head as her dragon fell into the waves.

Her dragon. Her Grey Ghost.

She kicked to the surface, choking out a lungful of salt water. Her throat burned. She tried to move but the pain in her left arm where she had hit the rocks made her vision swim. She pushed her right arm through the cold. She had to get to him, she thought weakly. He could still be alive. He could still be-

Water crashed over her head and she reached out blindly, gripping at bone and membrane. She dragged herself forward. Her throat was raw, her lungs on fire. She pulled herself up onto his wing with her good arm.

Grey Ghost did not try to resist the rolling of the waves. He just… lay there on the surface. Wings splayed. Head twisted at a wrong angle. Dead.

The broken girl let out a scream.

Overhead, a dragon roared.

-----

“Sena!"

“Sena? Sena!”

She did not know how long she had been in the water. Her limbs were numb and she could feel the hard scales of a dragon beneath her cheek. The swaying of the waves had somehow stopped. Had they washed ashore? The sound of her name and distant, hurried footfall. The whicker of a dragon, salt on her lips. She tried to lift her head.

“Don’t move. Stay still,” the voice, a man’s voice commanded. She was more than willing to listen. Every bone and every muscle felt like it had been wrenched out of place. She’d never move again if she didn’t have to.

It was quieter, now. No howling wind or lashing rain. The waves had reduced from a torrent to a crash on the sand. “It’s alright,” the man’s voice said. He was getting closer. “I’ve got you.”

There were hands on her upper arms, attempting to roll her over, but the second any pressure went onto her left arm, she let out an agonised scream. “No! No!” She begged. Her voice sounded broken in her ears.

“Fuck,” the voice swore. “Oh, my girl."

The man stepped back, leaving her blissfully alone. Then another voice joined the fray, a woman’s this time. “You need to move her. We can’t be here and we still need to find Lucerys.”

The man grumbled and stepped up to her once more. “I’m sorry, Sena, but we need to go.”

She screamed as her broken arm shifted. The pain was like nothing she’d ever felt before. Her stomach heaved, her vision spotted, then all she could see was white. She could have been out for seconds or hours, there was no way of telling. But then she felt the sway of the man’s gait, felt his feet struggling through sand, and she knew she was no longer sprawled out on the corpse of her oldest friend. Her left arm was placed over her chest and she was being cradled to a man’s leather jerkin. She slowly opened one eye, squinting against the glare of daylight, willing her head to stop rolling, and her heart lurched in her chest. Her eyes caught on silver blonde hair and she struck out with her good arm against her captor’s chest. “No! No! Get off of me! Get off of me!” She struggled in his grip and the man stumbled in the sand, nearly dropping her.

“Sena!” He shouted as she rolled dangerously in his arms and he fought to stop himself pitching over. “Sena, it’s me!” She looked up. Two eyes looked back at her instead of one, and they were deep purple like her own. “Sena,” Prince Daemon murmured. He pulled her into his chest and steadied himself. “It’s me. It’s Dad.”

She was crying. She was so glad to see him. She let her head loll in the crook of his arm, seeking the warmth of his body, the familiar scent of his jerkin. “You’re riding Caraxes with me,” he told her, regaining his footing and struggling on through the sand. “I’m taking you home. Rhaenys will stay to search for Lucerys.”

Luke.

“Oh no,” she moaned. Fresh tears sprang from her eyes.

“Sena? What is it?”

It hurt when she breathed, like the inside of her ribcage bore metal spikes that pierced her lungs. “Luke,” she mumbled, pressing her face into her father’s chest, trying to hide. If she could just hide… but she could hear Luke’s shouts ringing in her ears, see what was left of Arrax tumbling through the sky when she shut her eyes. If she had not been there, if she had not distracted him at the crucial moment, would he have lived? “Luke. I couldn’t save him, Father. I couldn’t…”

Daemon stumbled in the sand, jostling her painfully. “What?” He asked, confused.

“Vhagar,” she said. “It was Vhagar.”

“I…” Prince Daemon was lost for words, for the first time she could remember. “We… all that’s washed up is you and Grey Ghost, love. Not him, not Arrax. Are you sure? Are you sure they didn’t get away?”

There were hot tears on her cheeks and she nodded weakly. “There won’t be a body,” she croaked, and she could hear her voice breaking. “There’s nothing left.”

The look on Daemon’s face was shocked. Bleak. He stood there for a moment, the high wind on the beach whipping his hair around him, cradling his eldest daughter to his chest. His expression went grim. “Cousin,” he barked. Sena winced at the loud sound.

Further up the beach, the voice of Princess Rhaenys sounded again. “What is it?”

“We’re not going to find Lucerys,” he said. “There’s nothing left to find.”

-----

Sena had only brief periods of consciousness to mark the passing of time.

There were a lot of solemn faces. And the crying - the crying was endless. She would open her eyes and see Joffrey sniffling at her bedside, or her father staring at her limp form from the doorway. Rhaena slipping a brush through her curls. Baela seemed to rarely leave, more often than not curled up asleep on a seat in the corner.

It was only when the grasp of the milk of the poppy slipped and she was able to move that she realised her arm was bound and splinted from elbow to wrist. She groaned, the pain dimmed somewhat in her drugged state but still there. Baela sat up in a hurry. “Rhaena!” She called.

Sena raised her other arm in a placating manner. “Shhhh,” she rasped. Her head felt fit to burst. The arm she raised to placate Baela was blue, green, yellow and mottled. Seven hells. “Let me die in peace, would you?”

Baela glared at her. “Not funny, Sena.”

Rhaena must have been standing guard at the door or something, as she flew into the room in an instant. “What’s wrong? Is she alright?” The younger twin asked.

Baela jerked her head at Sena. “Don’t ask me, ask her.”

“Sena!” A look of pure relief was on Rhaena’s face as she dashed to her sister’s side. She fell to her knees and took Sena’s good hand in hers.

“Sister, please,” Sena croaked, “keep your voice down.”

“Maybe we should get the Maester? She could get more relief for the pain,” Rhaena said to her twin.

“She is right here,” Sena grumbled.

Baela scoffed. “That’s the last thing we should do. The Maesters have had her knocked out cold for a week. Let her at least figure out what day it is. Or what continent she’s on.”

“A week?” Sena said, moving to sit up. Her bedroom swam dangerously before her eyes and Baela jumped forward to grab her by the shoulders.

“Rhaena! Her pillows!”

Rhaena reached behind her and fixed her pillows, then the twins helped her lean her weight back against the headboard in a more upright position. “A week?” She said again, weakly.

Rhaena wrung her hands. “Maester Gerardys said it was the best thing for you. You could barely move a muscle without crying, Sena.”

“Hmm,” Sena hummed. She hadn’t much memory of what happened after Grey Ghost… and Luke, she thought weakly. “Rhaena. I’m sorry.”

Rhaena brushed her hair back from her forehead. “Whatever for, sister?”

“I didn’t… he’s dead,” she let out a breath and fresh tears brimmed in her eyes.

Rhaena squeezed her hand, her own eyes swimming. “Oh, Sena,” she said.

“It’s not your fault,” Baela spoke up from the corner, her voice sounding cold.

Sena shook her head. “I got that letter before he even left,” she mumbled, “if I hadn’t been wallowing in my own self-pity, I would have worked it out sooner-“

Baela scowled at her. “It was the Queen who sent him. Jace chose to go North, not South. Grandmother and I are both dragonriders and did not volunteer to go for Luke or with him. Would you blame us?”

“No-“

“Then why do you blame yourself?” She asked with an edge of steel in her voice. “Why not blame the one person who you could actually blame for this?”

“Baela,” Rhaena cautioned, letting go of Sena to turn and glare at her twin. “Now isn’t the time.”

Baela scoffed. “No, Rhaena, I’ve had enough of it. It not now, when? He killed Luke, Sena. He nearly killed you. If father and grandmother hadn’t arrived, he might have damn well finished the job,” Baela said.

Sena’s head swam. Her stomach dropped like a stone. “Wait, what happened? After I fell? Is Aemond-“ the word caught in her throat.

“Alive,” Baela gritted out. The air rushed out of Sena with relief. “Turned tail and ran as soon as he saw Caraxes and Meleys. The craven.”

“Baela, stop. We don’t need to do this right now,” Rhaena said, sending a glare at her twin. “She needs rest, not a lecture.”

Baela shook her head at her sisters but sat down again. “Leave her to rest, then. Go,” she told Rhaena, her tone still icy cold. “I’ll watch her.”

“You’ve been here for days,” Rhaena retorted. “When did you last sleep in a bed? Or change your clothes?”

Baela shot her own glare back at her twin as she settled herself back into her armchair in the corner of Sena’s room. “My clothes are fine and I cannot fucking sleep anyway so there’s no use trying,” she snapped. “Go on then, if you want her to rest. Leave us.”

Rhaena scowled but got to her feet, saying no more. She looked back at Sena and gave her her best comforting smile. She refilled the glass of water on Sena’s nightstand then slipped out of the room with one last glare at her twin.

When the door clicked shut, Sena turned her unfocused gaze on her sister. Of the three of them, Baela was most like Daemon. She had one leg tucked up onto the chair with her and the other swung and flicked like the tail of a foul-tempered cat. “You should be kinder to her,” Sena chided in her roughened voice. “She’s a good child. Sweet.”

“So was Luke,” Baela said and pulled her leg back up onto her chair so she could hug her knees to her chest. “Look what it got him.”

Sena leaned back against her pillows and let out a pained breath.

She had nothing to say to that.

-----

Sena refused the milk of the poppy as often as she could. The only thing she detested more than the pain was the unsteadiness, the cloudiness. It made her head roll like she was back out at sea, clinging to Grey Ghost’s corpse. It was nauseating.

The birds and sea creatures would be picking at his body right now, she thought. The steady rot would let them pull aside his scales and they would feast on her oldest friend. She could not find it in her to begrudge them that. In some strange way, it’s maybe what he would have wanted, being given back to the animals he had hunted all his days. After all, when she died, a dragon would light her funeral pyre in the tradition of her house. It only seemed right, after spending a lifetime mastering the will of a dragon that her body be taken from the world by one.

Mastering the will of a dragon… what had truly gone on in the skies above Storm’s End? She found she was too cloudy and the thought of Luke’s death was too painful to discern it. She had heard shouting, commands bellowed in the tongue of her forebears. She knew Aemond’s voice about as well as she knew her own, at this point. But what had truly happened? And what reason could Luke have given Aemond to do such a thing and bring a war down upon his head? For that was what this meant, she knew with grim certainty. And not just his head, but Helaena’s, his mother’s, Aegon and Daeron, the twins, Maelor - everyone he professed to love. Had she truly overestimated him all this time? The past had left deep scars on Aemond, physically and mentally. It had made him volatile, sometimes downright cruel, she had seen that for herself. But could he truly do something so vile with no discernible cause, at such a cost to himself? Could he kill a child?

Baela had taken to haunting the corner of her room less as she gained lucidity, but the girl would have wrung Sena’s neck if she could hear her thoughts right now. After everything that had happened, was she truly still trying to find a way to excuse him, to love him? Shouldn’t it be enough for her that he had cast her aside and agreed to wed another as soon as his brother asked him to? That would have been enough to most sane and sensible people, to see they were not wanted. But his letter… his letter.

I have always loved you and I fear I will until my dying day.

She was beginning to fear it too, that there was nothing he could do that would wipe away the memory of the round-cheeked and wickedly clever little boy he had been. How, at cost to his family, he had been by her side and saw something worthy in her when almost no-one else had. The kind man who doted on his sister, brought toys and played at battles with his niece and nephew. He was the apple of his mother’s eye and still somehow managed to be his elder brother’s only friend in the world. The smiles he kept just for her - not smirks full of secrecy and malice but genuine smiles, and he would laugh that boyish laugh of his and kiss her in rooms where anyone might catch them.

Some days when she lay in bed, the battering her body had taken seemed to pale in comparison to the turbulence in her mind. A gaping black hole of grief and all the things she could not reconcile with it, things she dare not take too close to it for the fear that they might get swallowed up too.

There came a point one morning where even the protestations of her body were not enough to keep her in that room any longer. The black thoughts lurked under her bed, in her wardrobe, in the corners the light didn’t reach, in her dreams and she needed away from them.

One more thought of Luke or Grey Ghost or Aemond and she was going to scream the castle down.

Sena sat up in bed with a wince, her body aching in protest but not outright rebelling. She swung her legs to one side, to feel the cool flagstones under her feet once more. The dining room was not so far. She could break her fast with her sisters and Joffrey, ask after Aegon and Viserys and any news of Jace. Her father was plotting his conquest of the Riverlands - Baela had told her so when she asked after not seeing him for about a week straight - and she had yet to see the Queen since awakening.

It made sense, she guessed, the Queen was a busy woman. Besides, what mother would want to look upon the face of the girl who failed to save her son?

The room swayed uncomfortably as Sena got to her feet and the burns on her legs stretched under their bindings. Gerardys had told her she’d been lucky it was only her cloak that caught fire and burnt her. If she had caught the full force of Vhagar’s flame herself, there would likely be little left of her. Lucky, she thought with a humourless laugh as she braced herself on her dresser with her good arm and reached out to grab her robe.

Rhaena and Baela must have been changing her nightgowns for her as the one she had on right now was a little sour but not dirtied with weeks worth of soil. How long had she even been in her bed, she wondered? Could nobody bring her a damned calendar?

The hall seemed a lot longer than she remembered as she tied her robe about her waist. She could hear voices and the clinking of glasses and silverware. As she crossed the threshold of the dining room though, the voices died.

Baela, Rhaena, Joffrey and the Queen all stared at her. The little boy had not yet mastered the art of tactfulness, it seemed, as his mouth hung open while he took in the sight of her. She must look dreadful. Splinted arm and hair sticking up in every direction. It was the sight of the Queen, though, that stopped her dead. She curtseyed and mumbled a “your Grace,” before she could stare at the dark circles under Rhaenyra’s eyes for too long.

“Sena,” the Queen said, a little shocked. “Should you be out of bed?”

Sena grimaced and lurched towards the table. “Don’t need more bedrest. My arse is numb.” Rhaena hurriedly got up and pulled out a chair for her, taking her hand to help her down. Sena did so gratefully, despite her protestations about her arse being too numb to sit.

That won her a weak smile from the Queen. “I suppose it’s a good sign you have an appetite.”

Sena turned down the corner of her mouth. The maesters had been forcing turnip soup and gruel down her throat for weeks but even after such a long spell of uninspired cooking, the spread before her was enough to turn her stomach. Feeling the Queen’s eyes on her, though, she picked up her fork and valiantly speared a chunk of ham hock. She had tamed a wild dragon and duelled with Lord Fleabottom himself - she could eat a little pork. “I was more growing bored of having conversations with myself. I can see how it would drive a person to madness,” she frowned. The ham was so salty it made her eyes water. “It appears I don’t have anything interesting to say.”

Baela smirked. “I could have told you that years ago.”

“Hey,” Sena chided round her food, pointing her fork at her sister in what she hoped was a menacing manner. “Don’t give me cheek in front of Joff. I won’t have him learning that bad attitude of yours.” Everyone looked down the table at the young boy and it seemed Sena was fighting a losing battle, though, as he was carving a halfway decent picture of Tyraxes into the arm of his chair.

“Joff, stop that,” the Queen chided, although it seemed half-hearted and Joffrey did not look up.

Rhaena laughed and leaned in, offering suggestions on how to make the carving more lifelike. “His tail is longer than that!” Baela pointed out, following suit. “No, look, I’ll do it-“

Sena swallowed hard to force the pork down her throat. Now that she had appeased the Queen by eating, she sat back in her chair. “How have you been… my Queen?” She asked, barely daring to look at her stepmother.

Rhaenyra let out a sigh that sounded ancient and weary. “I don’t know,” she said quietly, almost to herself. “I don’t know. I just… wake up and do the next thing, then the next, then the next, until it’s time to go to bed again.” She looked into the embers in the fireplace. “Even then, I cannot sleep.”

Sena didn’t know what to say. What had she ever been through in her life that could even begin to compare to losing a child?

“The boys have been needing me a lot, that helps. Joffrey has been acting out - it was only his Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys who stopped him from climbing aboard his hatchling dragon and going to burn the capital down,” Rhaenyra said grimly. “Aegon and Viserys are too young to understand, but they need me all the same.”

“What about Jace?”

The Queen’s eyes glassed over with tears. “I begged him to come home, but he refused. He told me his heart was broken but this only made his mission more important than ever.”

Sena’s chest heaved under the weight of her own breath and dug her fingernails into her palms in an attempt to ground herself. “He’ll be a fine King one day, your Grace,” she said, willing her voice to remain steady.

The Queen nodded but they both knew it was no consolation for what she had lost.

There was footfall in the hallway and then Sena’s father was coming into the dining room, gathering a plate of food to take straight to his maps and letters, it seemed. He paused when he laid eyes on her. “You’ve rejoined the realm of the living, have you?” He asked in lieu of greeting as he pocketed a bread roll.

“Just about,” she said and braced herself on the edge of the table as though to get up. “You ought to take me to your war room. I want to see what you’re planning, what’s next.”

Daemon gave her a look. “What’s next? For you? Bed rest,” he said. “You could have died.”

Sena gritted her teeth. So everyone keeps saying. “I think I’ve had enough bed rest.”

He rolled his eyes at her and reached over Baela to grab a leg of cold chicken. The two of them looked remarkably similar with that disgruntled look on their face. Like a moody infant being roused from sleep. “And yet you haven’t miraculously healed your broken arm or hatched another dragon. No, Sena. Maester Gerardys says it will be two moons at least before he’ll take off that splint.”

“Two moons?” Sena balked. “You can’t expect me to sit about on Dragonstone for two moons. There’s a war going on!”

Queen Rhaenyra intervened, likely to save herself the headache of them bickering. “You have fought bravely, Sena. You gave more than you should ever have to. You can rest.”

Sena gave a disbelieving laugh. “I wasn’t brave, your Grace!” She snapped, her voice trembling. “I was scared. And I achieved nothing. Arrax, Grey Ghost… Luke is dead. All for nothing.”

Silence fell around the table and guilt washed over her as her sisters and brother stopped their japing to turn and watch the adults argue. She shouldn’t have gotten out of bed.

All traces of humour had left her father’s face, and he set his plate down on the table, his jaw wound tight. “Do not fear, daughter. We shall even the score soon enough.” She didn’t like the look on his face. It had scared her since she’d been old enough to remember it. “And soon enough, every traitorous whelp from Alicent Hightower’s cunt will regret the day they were born. They will die screaming. And I’ll save the kinslayer for last.”

He didn’t mean to. The thought was a bleak echo in her mind, unbidden, unwanted. But how could she know? How could she know what was in his heart that day? Sometimes she felt as though she barely knew him at all. And what did it matter if he meant to? Luke was dead, regardless of his intentions. Baela was glaring at her from across the table, reading the struggle on her face and willing her to keep her mouth shut-

“That’s enough,” Rhaenyra snapped, pushing her chair back with a screech. “Joffrey, come. You’re late for your lessons.”

The boy had up until then been transfixed on his stepfather, watching him with large brown eyes and a hard look on his face, an anger Sena had never seen on him before. His mother pulled him up from his chair despite his protestations and ushered him out the door. She then rounded on her husband, who was setting her with a grim look.

Sena’s hands trembled in her lap.

“Rhaenyra-“

“No,” she said forcefully. “It is none of my business what you do with your girls and how you choose to shape them, Daemon, but by the Gods, I will get my sons through this with some shred of humanity left in them if it fucking kills me.”

She stormed out, and Daemon was left with his daughters, all of whom were determinedly avoiding his gaze. He dipped his head and huffed out a laugh. “We’re at war, girls,” he growled, leaning over the table towards them. “Get used to the idea. How do any of you expect to get anything done if you won’t get your hands dirty?” He lingered over them, willing one of them to be brave enough to look up and meet his eye. When none of them did, he shook his head and stalked from the room.

Sena slowly brought her gaze upwards and caught Baela’s eye. The elder twin looked shaken, but raised an eyebrow. “He’s not wrong, is he?” She breathed.

Rhaena was chewing her lip. “Come, Sena. Let’s get you back to bed.”

Sena, for once, didn’t protest.

-----

The days on Dragonstone seemed to crawl by, as Sena willed her body to heal so she might escape the dark recesses of her mind for a while. Once she was able to get out of and stay out of bed for any length of time, she made herself useful by joining the Queen in her solar and answering some of her correspondence for her, to take some of the pressure off of her. The volume of ravens flying in to Dragonstone had at last proved too much for Maester Gerardys to handle and Sena’s body might be in tatters but she had an able mind, decent penmanship and most importantly, it was not her dominant arm that was in a splint. It was a small mercy, she thought bleakly, as she stared at her sword belt hanging from its hook by her bedroom door one morning. A slightly different fall and she might have never been fit for battle again.

She pushed the thought from her mind, the way she pushed all thoughts of that day away, and finished readying herself. On the way to the Queen’s solar, she paused outside Luke’s bedroom door. She did this every morning. The door was closed and no one had moved any of his possessions yet. Sena rested her head against the oak and pictured the books that he so detested in a dusty pile on his desk, his clothes in disarray on the floor. Muddy training gear and a half-finished secret love letter to Rhaena with crossings-out and ink blots. Or not-so-secret, as Rhaena had always ran to Sena to discuss them with her as soon as she got them. They made Baela balk and make gagging sounds at her, so Rhaena had always come to Sena. And in her own head, Sena would think of Aemond’s letters, feel the ghost of his touch, his lips on hers.

She sighed and pushed herself away from the door. She could not mourn at Luke’s door and think of Aemond. She would not sully her brother’s memory with thoughts of the man who had brought him his painfully early end.

With an announcing knock, Sena let herself into the Queen’s solar. It had become her habit over the weeks to let herself in as she was expected. She regretted it instantly this morning though, as she saw the Queen and Prince Daemon bowed together in deep conversation. She blushed a little, having intruded on a private moment, and curtseyed to them. “Your Grace, my Prince, good morning. Apologies, my Queen, I did not realise you had company.”

“Rise, Sena. It’s quite alright, we were discussing troop movements, nothing more,” the Queen said, smoothing down her skirts. Prince Daemon stood at an angle to the Queen so he could survey his daughter, something glinting in his eye that Sena was not sure she was entirely comfortable with, a letter in his hand. She ignored him and crossed the solar to the small writing desk the servants had set up for her, already stacked with correspondence from the Lords of the Realm swearing fealty to their rightful Queen. Jace had finally returned from the distant North, and he could not have brought better news. The Eyrie and Winterfell had both sworn to defend the claim of Queen Rhaenyra and were raising their banners at this very moment. The Usurper may command the support of the Stormlands and the Westerlands, but the Reach had been slower to declare. House Tyrell with its infant lord and council of regents had proved reluctant to be seen to be following the lead of their banner-house, the Hightowers. It was the noble houses of the Reach that the Queen and Sena were currently focusing on, to see which ones chafed at the overreach of the Hightowers and remembered their oaths of fealty to the young Princess of Dragonstone.

The Riverlands had also been slow to declare, however, and it was that region of the war table that Sena’s father was currently focused on. She was actually surprised to see him still on Dragonstone this morning. “Father,” she said as she set herself down at her desk and reached for her letter opener, pulling an envelope with the seal of House Tarly towards her. In her younger years, she might have bemoaned swapping her sword and the training yard for the little blade and a writing desk, but she could see now that if they were to win this war and put the rightful Queen on the Iron Throne, the fighting would as much be done with the quill as the sword. “I’m surprised to see you still here. Were you not departing to join your host in the Riverlands at daybreak?”

Her father gave her that smirk of his that set her teeth on edge. “As soon as my business with the Queen is finished, daughter. Caraxes is saddled and my men await me where they have made landfall at the mouth of the Trident. We will march on Harrenhal at once.”

Sena’s eyes went to the Queen and caught the downturn of her mouth at the mention of the cursed hall. Now the seat of Lord Larys Strong, the Usurper’s Master of Whisperers, it was the place Ser Harwin, her lover and the true sire of her sons by Ser Laenor had perished in a fire. It had been in circumstances every bit as uncertain as Ser Laenor’s death… and Sena's mother’s. It was something she tried to keep in mind these days, as her new role in the unfolding war demanded of her. It was important to tread lightly and watch her back, as she had no way of knowing which hands were bloodied and with whose blood.

“Speaking of, what was your business with me, husband?” The Queen asked, trying to shirk the dark mood that had descended on her once again at the mention of Harrenhal, another black chapter in her history. Sena knew the Maester had started preparing the Queen sleeping draughts and had noted it had alleviated some of the dark bruising under her eyes, but had done little to ease the tenseness in her shoulders and the dark moods that caught up with her when she least desired them.

Sena might not know what it was to lose a child a sennight after carrying a babe to a funeral pyre - and thank the Gods she did not know that pain - but she knew the feeling of being swamped by the darkness as you began to tire of treading.

“I can leave, come back later, if you need the room?” Sena suggested, fearful it was a matter of sensitivity that need not go past the Queen’s ears yet, but her father shook his head. That wry tilt of his lips was making her stomach churn. What on earth could he have to say that had him looking like that, like an ugly tomcat with a bowl of cream?

“No. Stay. You would hear it soon enough anyways,” he said, and held out the scroll in his hand to the Queen. “From King’s Landing, your Grace. Some of our seeds have borne fruit, at last.”

Sena’s pulse jumped. What news could there be of King’s Landing? Who in King’s Landing was even writing letters to her father right now? Since they’d returned from their ill-fated visit, it had been like the Wall itself had been erected across the gullet of Blackwater Bay. No ships, no letters, no anything drifted on the waves or soared in the sky to them from the capital.

The Queen gave her consort a puzzled look and snatched the letter from his hand. She opened the folded parchment and began to scan it. Her eyes widened, her mouth fell open, and she gripped her midsection as she let the letter fall to the desk. Sena’s stomach lurched. “Daemon,” the Queen breathed, addressing her husband with wide eyes. “What have you done?”

The Prince looked back at her with a sneer on his lips. “I’ve gotten my hands dirty, your Grace,” he said simply.

“What?” Sena questioned sharply, standing up from her desk. She could feel the nausea rising inside of her. “What is it?”

The Queen steadied herself on her desk with one hand, looking faint, still gripping her middle with the other, as if she needed to feel herself breathing to be convinced she was doing it. She was grey in the face, and Daemon was still. Deadly still.

And Sena could finally pinpoint that look on his face when she had walked in. That was how he appeared when he was pleased with himself.

She could not take it any longer, she lunged forwards and swiped the letter from before the Queen, acid climbing from her belly up her throat. The writing was scratchy, unrefined and poorly taught, but she could make it out clear enough.

The deed is done. The usurper’s heir is no more. An eye for an eye.

“An eye for an eye…” Sena read out loud, the words swimming before her eyes as she tried desperately to make sense of them.

“A son for a son,” came her father’s low voice, and Rhaenyra let out an agonised sound as her worst fears were confirmed.

Jaehaerys.

Sena looked up from the parchment, which shook like a leaf in her hand. She met her father’s eyes. Violet. Like hers. “Tell me I don’t understand,” she said, her voice barely audible. “Tell me I- tell me you didn’t-“

“Come now, daughter. Even you should be able to puzzle out the riddle,” he said with a scant smirk in his cruel eyes. Were her eyes that cruel? Did that shade of purple seem so impenetrable, so treacherous on her?

“You bastard,” she breathed. Her knees were shaking, struggling under her weight. She stepped back, gripped the edge of her writing desk, “No. No, not even you- not even you could do that.”

“I can assure you, daughter, I can and I did,” he said, taking a step towards her. She shrunk back from him, leaning her weight on the desk so she did not collapse there and then. “My catspaw took their chance when the so-called Queen was taking her children to visit with the Dowager-“

“Helaena was there?” Sena’s entire body shook. No. No.

Her father nodded, unfeeling, unflinching. “Yes. I’m told she was given the choice between the boy and the babe, though it wasn’t really a choice. Shame the little one will have to grow up knowing his mother did not love him enough to save him.”

“You monster!” Sena barked, her hands gripping the edge of her desk until she was white in her knuckles. The rage rising in her was like a tempest, a hurricane. Like some godly wrath straight out of the Seven Hells. When she blinked, she could see the sweet little boy behind her eyelids, offering out his little hand-carved horse and smiling at her bashfully. She could see Helaena watching him with adoration, Queen Alicent beaming with pride.

She could see blood.

She felt like she was going to be sick.

“What have you done?” She breathed, drawing closer to her father on shaky feet. “How could you? He was an infant.” She could not draw breath. “What happened to Luke was an accident! A dragon gone rogue. You just murdered a little boy in cold blood.”

The Queen and her consort both looked up at her sharply at that. “Luke-” Rhaenyra choked out.

“An accident?” Daemon laughed coldly. He leered over her, his expression a picture of mad amusement. “Gods, Sena, what poison has my wretch of a nephew been pouring in your ear?” he asked. “You truly think he is some tortured soul? Some poor victim of circumstance? That was no accident.”

“He is vengeful and lacks restraint, yes, but despite his faults, he is a good man who would never mean to hurt a child,” she hissed. “The same cannot be said for you.”

He brushed her hair from her face with his calloused fingers. The skin he touched felt as though there were living things crawling beneath it. “You’re truly pathetic, aren’t you?” He said with a mean grin. “Is that all it takes to turn you into a blind fool, some weak profession of love so that you’ll let him stick his cock in you?”

She was shaking. She was burning.

He shook his head, smirking and giggling. “I truly don’t know where you get it from. At least your mother had enough backbone to hate me ‘til the bitter end. She had the brains to know I was telling her I loved her just so I could fuck her.”

She spat in his face, catching him square in the eye and he flinched away, wiping at his face with a grunt. “Little bitch,” he growled.

Sena turned on Rhaenyra and she was livid, every inch of her white hot and singing. “Did you know about this? Did you know?” The Queen had tears tracking down her cheeks. She could not seem to move a muscle, let alone answer. “Tell me!” Sena demanded, slamming her hands down on the desk before the Queen.

Rhaenyra flinched and turned a look of pure rage on Sena. Sena wished she had it in her to feel the shame her younger self would have felt at invoking such a reaction. But her younger self, her innocent and gentle self was gone, gone, and her father seemed hellbent on burning out every remnant. “Your sister, your poor, sweet sister who has never shown you and your sons anything but love.” She ducked her head to hold the Queen’s line of vision as Rhaenyra looked away, trying to garner some response from her. “Helaena will not survive this,” Sena’s voice shook as she realised the truth of it.

Her father’s answering laugh was from the depths of hell. “And House Targaryen will be rid of one more halfwit,” he said.

That was it.

That was all she could take.

It wasn’t in the heat of the moment, it wasn’t without thought. She knew exactly what she was doing, exactly where the letter opener lay on her desk as she spun around and reached for it. She flew at her father, her sword arm raised high, and brought the small blade down with every ounce of strength she possessed and pure clarity of thought.

Daemon’s blood spattered onto Sena’s bodice and Rhaenyra let out a gut-wrenching scream. Sena knew that the blade was too small, too blunt to accomplish her means, she knew it. But the look of shock and fear on her father’s face was worth every second of the hell it would rain down on her. He raised one hand and clutched at the blade in his neck, holding it steady in the wound, and brought the back of his other hand across Sena’s face. Hard.

Stars blew across her field of vision, her father’s heavy signet ring causing blood to burst from her lip. The rug on the ground rushed up to greet her. The air was forced from her lungs and she let out a scream as her splinted arm went aflame with pain once more.

The Queen was running from the room, screaming for a maester, a guard, anyone. Sena lay there on the rug for a second, tasting the blood in her mouth, feeling the ragged gasp in her throat and chest as she clawed back her breath. Her father knelt down on the rug beside her, still holding the letter opener steady in his neck, and dragged her up by the neckline of her dress with his spare hand. He was so close to her she could smell the sourness of wine on his breath. “For the blood we share,” he breathed, his voice ragged from the effort, “we’re going to pretend that was a clumsy accident. Like the traitor you whore yourself out for.” He shoved her back down to the ground, and fresh pain burst through her arm.

Her father staggered to his feet. Sena pressed her forehead into the rug and laughed coldly, turning her head to take in the man who had sired her, pale and shaking, his own blood sprayed across her. “What is blood to you?” She asked. She herself was surprised at the humour in her voice, the mad grin on her face. “You’re already a kinslayer, father. Accursed. What’s one more?” She pushed herself up to her knees and held her arms out in surrender. “Quickly. While no one can stop you,” she urged him, eyeing the blade in his neck.

Was he mad enough to do it? Pull the blade free from his neck and greatly damage his own chance at living, just to put an end to her? The daughter he had never wanted nor loved, sired on the wife he despised. He could do it. He was stronger than her, bigger, could overpower her easily and do it, even with the letter opener. He could end it all. He just needed to pull the knife free, let his own blood flow.

He leaned over her, so close they were nose to nose, brow to brow. “I will end you,” he promised her in a ragged voice. “Not yet. That would be too easy. Not until your precious halfwit has thrown herself from the highest window in Maegor’s Holdfast. Not until I finish what Lucerys started, and your lover is a feast for carrion crows,” he breathed, stroking her cheek with a bloodied thumb. “But then… I made you. And I will end you. I promise you that, Sena. Here and now.”

taglist (dm/ask/reply to be added): @stargaryenx @trap-house-homiecide

#aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #hotd #tqc #tumblr i s2g if you keep messing up the formatting.....

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danses-with-dogmeat · 2 years

Text

Day 16 -- Arthur Maxson

The (nsfw) details for Kinktober, Day 16 are just below the cut!

Minors, please don't interact.

Sadomasochism with Maxson x M!Sole

I swear this is actually sweet 😅 But for context, I really don't know how I feel about Maxson 🤔 This didn't really help me figure it out either, lol But this was steamy and fun to write, so no matter how you feel about him, I hope you enjoy! :)

Here is the link to my Kinktober 2022 Event list so you can stay up-to-date, or re-visit these works as you please.

Included: Sadomasochism, enthusiastic consent, bdsm dynamics, punishments, stress relief, spanking, pain play, hand jobs, anal sex, claiming/marking, 'sir' kink, overstimulation, slight authority/power dynamics, aftercare, pillow talk.

4.1k words.

Maxson’s knuckles were white where he clung to the metal frame of the table in his quarters, one angry vein bulged from his neck like it was trying to escape the skin there. Sole could hear his heavy breathing even from the other side of the room, from where he was seated on his partner’s cot, twiddling his thumbs.

This stress is making him look older than me.

Sole bit his lip thoughtfully, the hard pressure in his chest growing to an uncomfortable pain as he ached for the situation Arthur was in. Some days he still couldn’t believe how old he was. All the responsibility, every eye and ear in the Brotherhood warily keeping watch, listening for the slightest whisper of failure, looking for the smallest mistake, trying to find some miniscule action that would make him unworthy of his name and station. Sole didn’t know how he managed to cope.

He knew some days were worse than others, though. Today, for example, was bad. A horde of ferals, a meager scouting party of mostly scribes, and a bit of bad luck meant that Maxson had a hell of a lot of letters to write to family members and friends of the victims of those creatures’ horrid antics. Even when the fault of it was well out of his own hands, the Elder still knew who the family and friends would see signing the letter that sealed their knowledge of the fate of their loved one.

But the events of the day had been no more than the final straw that broke the brahmin’s back. This had all been building for so long. The Commonwealth, the raiders and mutants, the Institute, the other branches of the Brotherhood, even, all these factors swirling into a thick stew that screamed exhaustion, stress, and begrudging responsibility. Maxson would never back down from it, Sole knew, as he saw the way the Elder’s brow furrowed stubbornly, but still… He wished he could do something to help. Anything.

Sole flinched as pain flared in his finger. He’d pulled too hard at a hangnail amidst his restless fidgeting. He brought the digit to his mouth to rid it of the speck of scarlet that had sprouted up, and as the metallic taste touched his tongue, Sole’s mind flashed a thought behind his eyes.

Unsure if it was something Arthur would even be interested in, let alone want to actually try, Sole decided to speak up.

Won’t know until you ask, right? Besides… Something like this, it really could be good for both of us.

“You know…” He started, and Maxson’s icy eyes locked to him, “You could take it out on me. If, you know, if you wanted to.”

The Elder’s eyes narrowed.

“Take what out on you?” Maxson’s hands finally relented their grip on the steel table as he stood up fully, and Sole couldn’t quite see from here, but it really seemed as though the pads of his fingers had left indents in the metal.

“Your stress.” He clarified, almost sheepishly.

The confusion on Maxson’s face only grew stronger at that, as the Elder walked over to sit on the bed beside his partner.

“I just mean,” Sole continued, “If you need to blow off some steam… I just know how tense you always are, and it seems like nothing I can do ever helps. I just feel so powerless, and I want… I want to help you feel like you again.”

Maxson smiled sadly at that, his eyes uncharacteristically apologetic at the sound of his partner’s words.

“I-I wish I knew a way as well, but…” Arthur trailed off, shoulders shrugging and head shaking slowly as his eyes scanned the bleak bed sheets for an answer. “But perhaps there is something we haven’t tried yet... So, do you have an idea to propose?”

“I do. I think.” He said swiftly, “It’s just an idea though, and if you’re not comfortable, we don’t have to move forward with it.”

Arthur nodded, and Sole took a breath before speaking.

“What if you tried, um, hurting me?”

“What?” Arthur’s icy blue eyes widened in shock, “What the hell will–”

Sole’s hands shot out to keep Maxson seated beside him as the Elder recoiled from his words.

“Let me finish. I was going to explain.”

“I don’t need an explanation, Sole. I’m not going to do that.”

“Arthur.” Sole took the Elder’s hand in his own, thumbs stroking over his knuckles as his eyes pleaded for him to listen.

“Trust me. If it was something I didn’t want, I wouldn’t have even suggested it.” His partner’s eyes narrowed, unsure. “And it doesn’t have to be hateful or aggressive, or anything you don’t want it to be, but I want to be honest with you. That’s not... something I’m afraid of, I actually…” Sole bit into his lip, cheeks heating at the confession he was about to make.

I’ve never told anyone this… Well, besides Nate/Nora. But no one alive knows this about me.

He took a quick, steadying breath.

“Well, before the war, me and my husband/wife, well… We sort of found out that I like it.”

He could see the gears in Maxson’s head turning from the information, his brows remaining firmly furrowed with each passing word.

“Like… what?”

“Pain.” Sole just spat the word out, quickly, before he could think to retract it. “Like… Nate/Nora would sometimes hit me or be overly rough when we were together, since we both liked that sort of interaction.”

Maxson’s nostrils flared, and he opened his mouth, ready with an undoubtedly furious response.

“After we talked about it!” Sole added quickly “Of course, we talked about it first, before we ever did anything physical like that. It just… it worked for us. To blow off steam, to escape from reality for a while, to just focus on the physical. You really do feel better after. Or, we did, at least.”

Maxson sat back against the wall, eyes downcast and hand still locked in Sole’s as he thought through everything he’d heard, everything they’d done, everything he’d shamefully felt like he wanted to try but was too hesitant to speak up about…

“This is really something you’d want to try… with me?”

“Absolutely.” His partner answered without hesitation, hands squeezing his for emphasis. “And I’m no expert, but I really do think it would make you feel better. Allow you to let some steam out of the pot, you know? Before it all just boils over or eats you alive.”

Maxson nodded at that, almost gravely, and sighed.

“Very well.”

“Really?” Sole shot up out of the bed.

“Yes. If you think it would help… If it’s something you want, then, I want to try it.” He stood up after Sole, already following his partner’s lead as he entered into this unfamiliar bit of territory. “But if you feel, even for a moment, unsafe, or unhappy, I need you to tell me right away.”

“I will, don’t worry. And the same thing goes for you, okay?” Sole stepped closer to his partner as Maxson nodded to him, his hands going to the shoulders of the Elder’s famed steel battle coat, and he slowly tugged it down over his muscular shoulders and arms.

“I think ‘zeppelin’ should do.”

“Zeppelin?” Maxson cocked a brow.

“For a safeword. You know, like the Prydwen?” Sole tossed the heavy coat over a chair and moved his hands to the zipper on his partner’s flight suit. “The Prydwen feels safe, doesn’t it?”

“Suppose so.” Arthur’s hands moved to Sole’s, pausing their undressing of him as the zipper reached his waist. He pulled his own arms from his sleeves, and moved his focus to Sole’s suit. With oddly hesitant hands, Maxson peeled the fabric away slowly, unbuckling the collar and tugging at the zip with a care he rarely showed before having one of their trysts. Perhaps his gentleness now was a way of already making up for the actions he was about to take against his partner.

I only hope he eventually feels comfortable enough to let loose. If he’s stuck worrying about me the whole time, he’ll never be able to lose himself the way he’s meant to.

When Sole was standing before him in only his briefs, Maxson nodded to the bed.

“On you go.”

He nodded, an almost giddy smile on his face as he climbed onto the mattress. Staying down on all fours, Sole thrust his ass into the air to give the Elder the first hint at which direction he should be taking them in.

“You can start with your hand.” He told him, and Maxson swallowed hard, steeling his resolve as he silently vowed to trust his partner in this.

He’s assured me it’s what he wants… And I’d be lying to him and myself if I didn’t make it clear that it’s something I’ve wanted as well. That I want.

Maxson gritted his teeth and stepped up to the bed, his presence already imposing as his shadow fell over Sole’s submitting form.

“I’ll give the orders from here, Knight.”

Sole nodded to him, biting back a grin as he lowered his head to the mattress and spread his legs wide for easier access.

Maxson felt his member begin to harden in his suit.

His rough hands met Sole’s hips, tugging him backwards to the very edge of the bed, where he began to remove the ex-vault dweller’s briefs, leaving him bare before him. Maxson patted one hand firmly on Sole’s ass experimentally, watching the way he tensed in response and anticipation. His hand came down harder the next time, palm landing flat against Sole’s soft skin and pulling a whimper from him.

Maxson felt his cock jerk in response to the sound.

Sole really may be onto something, here.

His palm came down again, harder even than the last, and Maxson felt Sole’s skin begin to warm beneath the hard contact, a redness becoming more prominent with each smack.

He switched to Sole’s other cheek, and his partner jerked in surprise, but kept his body as still as possible. The Brotherhood knight’s gasps turned to whimpers as Maxson increased the pressure of his blows, adrenaline rising in his body and blurring his inhibitions with each liberating action.

Should it really feel this good to let loose this way?

His mind made him begin to question his actions, the redness of his partner’s ass making it plain that bruising would be present the next day.

Can he really enjoy what I’m doing to him, or is it just a way to get me to blow off steam without making it obvious that he’s just trying to help?

Maxson wasn’t the best at accepting help, especially when it came to his personal well-being. He had so many other things to worry about, to lend his energy to, he always put it off until Cade was practically dragging him into the clinic for a checkup, and Sole knew all of that.

The Elder released a grunt as his hand came down harder than ever as his mind spun with more frustrating thoughts, more questions, more noise that he never seemed to be able to escape. He pulled back, the steadying hand he’d had at Sole’s hip pulling away as he took a step back from the bed. Sole hadn’t whimpered, he hadn’t gasped, but he’d groaned that time, and at the loss of contact, his hips shifted back, offering himself to the Elder despite his roughness.

Maxson opened his mouth to speak, to ask his partner if he was alright, if he’d taken it too far, to apologize, if need be, but Sole spoke up first.

“Again, Elder. Please.”

His voice was hoarse, desperate with want, and as Maxson’s widened eyes fell to Sole’s form, he noticed something he couldn’t see from his angle before. Sole’s hips thrust backwards wantonly, his fingers tangling in the bed sheets as his legs spread wider, and Maxson caught sight of his cock, rock hard and dark with pleasure, his tip already glistening with need. The Elder’s cheeks reddened even as he blinked in surprise.

Surely, Sole couldn’t lie that well. He really does enjoy this.

The tightness of Maxson’s suit and briefs surrounding his own aching member started to become unbearably uncomfortable, and he felt his fists clenching together.

He wants more does he?

Arthur looked around the room briefly, scanning for some way to up the antics and really get Sole going, now that he could see the clear outcome of his actions written in his partner’s desperate body.

In the next moment, Arthur was back at the foot of the bed, a clipboard in hand as Sole whined again beneath him.

God, it’s good to see him like this.

It’s just as Arthur always imagined it in his fantasies, only better, now that it was right in front of him. Now he could hear Sole, feel the warmth of his skin, smell his pleasure wafting off of him. It was so much more than fantasy.

Maxson tightened his grip of the clipboard with both hands, took aim, and brought it down on Sole’s plush ass. The Knight yelped and jerked his hips forward at the feel of the unrelenting wood against his skin, and Maxson held his breath. Then he heard Sole sigh, in what sounded like relief, as he let his hips shift back towards him.

Maxson nodded his head, his mind growing foggy at the sight of his partner this way, energy surging through his veins at the thrill of this whole situation. Now, he fully understood Sole’s giddiness at the start of all this.

Arthur hit him again, harder, and Sole bit down into one of the blankets on the mattress, a groan escaping from deep in his throat. Again, and again, Maxson brought down the clipboard, the thin slab of wood creaking with the force of the last few blows until he was afraid he was going to break the damn thing. Sole was shouting in pleasure, hands white-knucked in the blankets, legs shaking, his cock painfully hard and dripping onto the sheets between his spread legs. Meanwhile, Maxson was panting, pupils blown wide, and adrenaline making every muscle tingle with electricity. He felt so pent up, felt wild and alive, and even the sight of Sole’s sore ass, red and purple with angry marks didn’t deter him. It fueled him.

“Just look at you, Knight.” Maxson said as he stepped back, throwing the abused clipboard aside with a clatter before he came right back, one hand gently moving to graze over Sole’s marred flesh. He was hot to the touch, the skin quivering under the delicate brush of his fingers as he stroked over his handiwork.

“What a shameful display.” The Elder heard himself say. Almost unwittingly the words spilled from him, straight from one of his fantasies and so unlike what Sole had come to expect from him.

“You deserved this, didn’t you, Knight?”

Sole nodded, whimpering. Playing along.

Maxson’s heart leapt in his chest.

“Yes, sir.” The Knight choked out.

Maxson’s cock gave a painful jerk in the suffocating confines of his suit, screaming to be freed. His hands went to the hem of his flight suit where it hugged his hips, pulling it down to his ankles, along with his briefs.

He grimaced as the cool Prydwen air rushed over his hard cock, already wet with pre-cum and aching to be one with the man kneeling before him.

Soon.

“So, what do we say to our Elder for teaching you this valuable lesson?” Maxson brought his hand back to Sole’s hip, holding him in place as he began to pump over his cock.

“Thank you.” His hips thrust back towards the Elder. “Thank you, sir.”

“You still haven’t learned though, have you, Sole?”

He shook his head firmly.

“N-no sir, I haven’t.”

“So? How do you suggest we remedy this?” Maxson asked, his hand reaching underneath Sole’s body to grasp at his hardened member, where it strained up against his stomach.

Sole gasped at the touch, muscles spasming at the feel of Maxson’s rough hand over his aching cock. Arthur smiled at the sound, at the feel of the way Sole’s member pulsed in his hand, eager to spill his release all over the bedsheets.

“I believe I asked you a question, Knight.”

“Fuck.” Sole whispered under his breath as Maxson began to stroke his hand down the length of his cock, fingers squeezing tight as they reached the sensitive tip, making Sole shudder at the overwhelming feeling.

“S-so, ah, “ Sole’s hips bucked. “I need– I think you sh-should fuck me, sir.”

Desire burned low in Maxson’s belly, and he gritted his teeth at the way he felt his cock jerk to attention at Sole’s words.

“Oh, but doesn’t that sound like a reward, Knight?” Maxson’s hand paused its movement over Sole’s cock, and the man whimpered pathetically at the loss of friction.

“Y-you could make me cum first, sir. T-then you could take me. Hard and fast, to teach me my lesson.”

Arthur smiled, but his eyes narrowed at the suggestion.

“Make you cum first?” He asked for clarification, hand stroking over Sole’s length only once before pausing again.

“Yes. It makes it more unc-comfortable, if I’ve already cum.”

“Hmm.” Maxson made a show of thinking it over while Sole tried desperately to keep from bucking needily into his hand.

“Very well.” The Elder said at last, “If it’s as you say, then it should be sufficient.”

Maxson increased the pressure from his fingers, squeezing down hard over Sole’s aching member, feeling the drag of his skin with each stroke. He was relentless, pumping a fast and steady rhythm that left Sole gasping in response. Despite his efforts, Sole felt his hips bucking frantically, but whether it was to pull away from the overwhelming contact, or to increase it, he didn’t know.

To be fair, he didn’t know much of anything right now. Only the feeling of his Elder’s rough fingers, the burning deep in his stomach, the tightening feeling he felt building up and threatening to spill over. A few more firm pumps of Arthur’s hand, and Sole was finished.

His body writhed below the Elder, knees buckling and hands grasping desperately as he bit down on the mattress and screamed his pleasure into its plush fabric. Maxson didn’t relent, not even then, his hand swiping urgently over Sole’s pulsing cock as it shot out spurt after spurt of cum onto the mattress below.

When Sole’s groans turned to whimpers and his shaking limbs dissolved to jelly, Maxson’s hand finally pulled away. He reached down to the mattress, lewdly collecting what he could of Sole’s release in his hand, and stroked over his own member, coating himself in his partner’s juices.

“There. You’ve had yours. Now, get back into position.”

With shaking arms and legs, Sole clambered back onto his elbows and knees, spreading his legs further than before to allow for better access. Maxson’s hands went to Sole’s bruised and battered ass cheeks, spreading them apart before spitting into his hand and rubbing the wetness over his entrance.

Arthur’s cock was wet enough, with the help of his own arousal and Sole’s, and he knew he was meant to be rough, but still… He couldn’t bring himself to go in completely dry. His wet fingers massaged over Sole’s asshole, prodding and dipping inside every few strokes to stretch him just a bit. His partner was used to taking Maxson’s girth, but not without preparation.

When he was satisfied with the give of Sole’s entrance on his fingers, Maxson grasped at his member, stepping closer to the bed, and lined up the tip of his cock with Sole’s entrance. His partner sucked in a breath, and when he released it, his body visibly relaxed, and Arthur nudged his tip inside. As usual, Sole grit his teeth at the stretch, but in the next moment, Maxson felt the, almost painfully, tight grip on his cock relent enough for him to press forward.

Sole groaned as his partner bottomed out, his voice tired, but wrought with pleasure, nonetheless; and Maxson took that as the signal to continue with his movements. The friction against his aching cock was maddening, the roughness of Sole’s only partially slicked channel making him feel like he could cum right there and then.

The Elder grit his teeth together, pushing thoughts of finishing too soon from his mind as he forced himself to move.

‘Then you can take me. Hard and fast.’

Sole’s pleading words rang through his mind like a mantra, and Maxson did just that. His grip on Sole’s hips tightened to an almost painful degree, and he pushed and pulled his partner into his rough thrusts, hips slamming into Sole’s battered backside each time he bottomed out.

Each slam into him, and Sole was groaning into the mattress, his broken, pained sounds bordering on sobs as tears spilled down his cheeks. It was overwhelming. Maxson delving far into his depths, rubbing deliciously against his pressure points deep inside, the pound of his hips on his reddened ass, reminding him of the bruises that would still be there days after, the sound of his grunts above him as he came closer and closer to his climax.

“Gonna finish soon.” Maxson panted, “Gonna finish inside you.”

Sole whimpered, bucking his hips back wantonly at his Elder’s words.

“Gonna finish deep inside, that way, when it's dripping down behind you, you’ll remember this lesson. You’ll remember how it felt to be taught this lesson by your Elder.”

“Y-yes, sir.” Sole managed, his throat hoarse from his sobs.

Maxson’s hands tightened their grip on him, hips pounding hard against his backside, delivering quick, deep thrusts that left Sole floundering to keep up with the growing, overwhelming sensation of pain and pleasure mixing so potently inside him.

The Elder thrust, once, twice more, burying himself deep in Sole’s ass, just as he promised, and released with an unrestrained shout. His hips bucked into Sole, his member shooting jets of hot cum and painting his insides with his release.

Finally, Maxson felt the tension leave his body fully, leaving a pleasant tingling sensation in its wake. He pulled his hips back, tugging his softening cock from Sole’s ass, and appreciated the sight of him. Red, and battered, and stretched, and used. He gave a soft pat to Sole’s ass, and the Knight collapsed onto the mattress with a final groan.

As the euphoria of their heated union slowly drained away, Maxson’s eyebrows knitted together in concern. He turned behind him, grabbing a rag from his dresser and a can of water from the table. Sitting down on the bed beside his partner, he wet the rag with the water, taking a few gulps of it after the fact and setting it on the floor. Gingerly, Arthur brushed the rag over Sole’s ass, cleaning him and soothing the hot, angry marks he’d left. He reached down to wipe what was left of Sole’s release from the mattress, turning his partner’s hips to brush over his stomach and cock as well. When he’d wiped himself clean, he threw the towel into the clothes bin and grabbed up the can of water.

“Here.” Maxson offered the water to his partner as he sat beside him on the bed, scooting close as Sole carefully rose to a sitting position, grimacing at the pressure on his sore ass. Maxson frowned.

“Thanks.” Sole grabbed the water, oblivious to Maxson’s concern, and drank the rest of its contents down before setting it aside.

“Are you alright?” Arthur asked softly, and to his relief, Sole smiled at him tiredly.

“I’m great.” He said, and Arthur raised a hand to wipe away a tear from his partner’s face.

“Honestly.” Sole insisted, “That was… something else. I haven’t felt like that… that good, in ages. So, thank you.”

Maxson visibly relaxed at his words, and Sole scooted closer to him, laying down with his head resting on Arthur’s torso. The Elder’s hand stoked over Sole’s hair gently, a soft smile tugging at his lips at the sight of his partner’s expression of pure contentment.

“I’m glad. I… thought I might’ve taken it too far.”

Sole shook his head.

“No, I enjoyed every second of it.” His hand came up to rest on the Elder’s stomach, his body settling further into him as they both felt the fatigue beginning to set in. “And I was glad you got so into it too, I wasn’t sure if you were gonna like it or not.”

Maxson hummed at that.

“Truthfully?” He said, “I’d thought about doing something like that with you before, but I wasn’t quite sure how to… approach the subject.”

Sole’s breath fanned over his skin as he chuckled softly.

“You were right, though.” Arthur continued, his eyes heavy as he watched Sole’s fall to a close.

“About what?” Sole murmured.

“I feel… better. Looser, less stressed. Thanks to you.”

He opened his eyes to see Sole’s little smile.

“Mm, told you so.”

Maxson chuckled as his eyes fell closed again, and he felt sleep calling to him. For the first time in weeks, he felt like he could answer. He felt like he could rest.

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