#wip wheels within wheels

[zhalfirin-binds]

WIP - wheels whithin wheels (see the finished bind here)

decorating the case (hot tooling vs. cold tooling) It took me a while to give up on trying to find anything online that was anything like what I pictured for case decoration. So eventually I gave it a shot on my own.

I drew and re-drew the designs, copied them to size, did rough cut outs to arrange on the case and traced them through sketching paper. Which in return was fixed to the inside of the case so it would not shift while I was tracing and became my guide for tooling.

It took me several passes with different tools to get a nice imprint, but it was still not very distinct.

So finally I moistened the leather slightly and broke out a foil pen thing to go over the pattern with heat.

Last step was colouring the case, I did one copy first just in case it looks terrible, then there would still be a 'good' copy to send out to my typesetter.

For colouring I used a fine brush and gouache water colour and mixed it with methylcellulose to make the colours stick without smudging. Does it work? Well, for now it does. I haven't carried it around, but it withstood reading, I guess that's good enough. Was it necessary to add some glue to the paint? Who knows? I used watercolours once and they were kind of easy to brush off once they'd dried. So it felt like a good idea to prevent that by adding some methylcellulose glue.

This little piece of cardboard had a role too btw. I used it to even out the backside of the case and avoid having a step between the leather and the board. So when I drew on the case there was no area that could give and ruin the lines. I also taped the sketch paper guide to it.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Opiated

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you work in the lab processing the materials recovered from Lex Luthor's plot but a small and unfortunate incidence changes you forever.

Characters: Clark Kent/Superman

I'm using a new Superman gif but you can choose your flavour of Superman.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

When people ask, rare as it is, and you tell them where you work, they say it's interesting or exciting. Sometimes you assure them otherwise when you tell them the truth. Other times, you let them believe so. It's not like they really care. It's small talk. As much as you can hope for.

Yes, you work at the forensic lab but you don't work in it. You're party of the clean up crew. You're tertiary. Invisible. When the important people, the scientists and the men with long titles from federal agencies, are done, you dispose of the waste.

There's a protocol. Everything is precise. Even for you. Uneducated as you are. You have to wear your gloves and mask, the hair cover, and the plastic suit. It crinkles as you push around the cart of specified waste bins. Chemical, organic, and miscellaneous. The scientists mark it in containers or coloured bags.

That day, there's more work than usual. Everyone knows why. Everyone's been gossiping in the break room or outside where they go for smoke breaks or just to get away. You even overheard some of the researchers chatting about it.

It's all over the news.

Everyone read Lois Lane's article about the villain, Lex Luthor and his sinister plot. Of Superman and his heroics. More important people.

The story is a great one, straight out of a book or show, but the real world fallout isn't over. The researchers are overloaded with the evidence seized from Luthor and his cohorts. Along with whispers about the great victory of good against evil is the drone of those under the brunt of new labour.

It's late. You work the night shifts. They're mostly quiet aside from some stragglers. Eerie as many of the labs are empty. Your mind turns the scenes into an apocalyptic landscape. You're the only one left behind, doomed to solitude.

You read the chart on the door; It lists the icons alerting you to the hazardous materials within.

You swipe your key card to enter the lab. The system beeps as it notes the custodial visit.

You go to the disposal trays. You start with the yellow bags. Typical waste. That's the miscellaneous bin. Then the vials, tagged. That's chemical. The green bags are organic.

As you drag a heavier bag off the tray, something bounces off the counter. You feel it catch on the leg of your suit. You dump the bags and bend to search for the fallen waste.

It's some sort of metal tube. There's a window in the side. It's empty. You put it in the undefined waste bin.

You clear off the last of the waste and sign off on the safe disposal chart attached to the side of the tray. You wheel your cart onward and continue your patrol. Once more you go back to your fantasy but it's not so far from the truth. Life is rather lonely.

As your shift comes to a close, you remove your safety equipment in the detox area. As you peel off the plastic suit, humid inside from your body heat, you notice a tear in the leg. You stare at it. Hm.

You don't recall it happening. Something must have knocked against you. You examine it. It doesn't seem like anything's seeped through. No staining. Nothing.

You stuff the safety suit into the hamper and shut the lid. You wash your hands to your elbows with the heavy grade soap. You grow through your usual routine, quickly forgetting about the tear.

You go to the locker rooms and change into your civvies. You leave the lab issued scrubs in another hamper. Another redundant precaution.

As you leave, your scratch your leg. The spot only seems to get itchier as you do. You growl and ignore it. You never liked jeans.

You'd rag yourself across the city and to your tiny apartment. Barely more than a single room. You're only happy not to have a roommate.

You fall into bed. You're leg is still itchy. And you're exhausted. You close your eyes and sink into the pitch.

🦸🏻‍♂️

You sleep so deeply it makes your head hurt. You're woken only by the incessant ringing of your phone. It's deafeningly loud. It reverberates in your ears as if it's chiming from inside your brain.

You feel around blindly and snatch your phone from the edge of the mattress. You barely remember taking it out after work. You roll over and shield your eyes from the sunlight. Your eyes water as you struggle to focus on the screen. It's work.

"Hello?" You answer groggily. Your voice is warped.

"Wanted to check and make sure you're coming in tonight." Shirley says.

You squint. "Huh? Yeah. Of course."

"Of course." She clucks. "Well after last night..."

"Last night," you cough. Your throat and mouth are so dry.

"You're lucky David showed up. Otherwise it would've been an issue. Next time. Call."

She hangs up, leaving you confused. Shirley does that. Cuts straight to the point without much explanation. When she's really had, that's when the words roar out.

You blink as your homescreen pops up. What? It's... No. Yesterday was the 12th. So how is it the 14th? This is impossible.

You sit up so quickly, it makes your head spin. You can't stop yourself from plummeting over the edge of the bed. You're dead out before you hit the floor.

🦸🏻‍♂️

Your alarm breaks through the sludge. You still don't understand how it didn't wake you the night before. Or how you slept more than twenty-four hours.

Your head feels better but your body is achy. It takes everything you have just to get dressed. You try to eat but your stomach mulches. You leave with an empty stomach and a racing mind.

You hurry down the street, tripping over every crack, reeling away from every pedestrian. The streetlights make you cower. They're too bright.

You stagger around the street corner and share your face from the glowing marquee of the Daily Planet. Metropolis' most read publication never sleeps. As you rush by the front steps, you're bowled over by a large figure clambering down them.

You grunts as you hit the ground. The impact is made worse by your already fraught muscles. You shakily push yourself to your knees

"Sorry, jeez," the man says as he grabs your arms. His grip is like fire. You hiss as he helps your up. "I wasn't.... I'm sorry, I was..."

He winces and squeezes your arms. His large glasses reflect the streetlights and his curly hair is askew across his forehead. You can barely make out his features. His fingers curl until it hurts.

"Ow." You eke out.

He leans down and smells you, taking a deep breath as if basking in the scent of a flower. You quiver and wriggle in his grasp. Suddenly, he lets you go.

He looks at his large hands and shakes his head. "I was going somewhere..." He mutters and brushes past you. You feel him shudder.

You watch him disappear down the other side of the street. You turn back and check the time. If you're late, Shirley's going to lose it. You flit away, feet clapping down heavily as you try to keep from falling.

The feeling like you've forgotten something is more intense than ever. Yet, when you get to the laboratory, you know exactly what to do. You work off of routine, following muscle memory alone.

Your shift passes quickly. It's a blur as you go from lab to lab with your cart. Colours smear and thoughts dissipate. When you leave, you're ready to keel over.

Once more, you pass out in your apartment without much recollection of your arrival. You are drained to the bone. You drift into ether where the world is swirling and vibrant.

You wake as the sensation of a coil wrapping around your neck strangles you. You sit up and feel your throat. There's nothing there. Your hands shake as you look around your apartment. It's noisy outside.

It's after noon. You get up and go to the bathroom. You check in the mirror. There's nothing on your neck. You shudder and look at your eyes. You blink and lean in.

You examine your skin, your irises, you cheeks, your lips. You look different. Somehow. Your features are all the same but there's something else. Like a glow?

You look up at the light above the mirror. It's the same yellow tint as always. It must be in your head.

You're tired but restless. You won't be sleeping. Not while all those voices buzz outside your apartment.

You look outside at the hubbub. Red and blue streams wave in the air from the square blocks over from your building. You didn't notice the same strewn from the street poles. When did that happen?

You check your phone. 'Metropolis to honour Superman with special parade.' ah. Of course. The man that once had the world wary is saviour again. It's easy to forget who you're supposed to love or hate.

You're deadly thirsty. You go to fridge. Nothing. You don't want to water.

You reluctantly get dressed and resign yourself to your venture. It's not that far to the store. You can be in and out.

You go out into the street. You're unprepared for the crush all around you. Your sleeve brushes against the bricks and storefronts as you head for the convenience store.

The cacophony picks up as the crowd cheers. You turn to watch the procession come into the street. You're stuck in place, penned in by the audience. The hero of the day, Superman, flies above the train of cars. He waves to the crowd.

You try to sidle along but knock into someone else. They don't notice but they also don't move. Your frustration mounts with a sense of claustrophobia. You're sweating.

Your eyes flick back up to the floating figure in the sky. His head twitches and turns to the side. His gaze roved the crowd as if he's searching for something. Is he looking at you?

It's like time stands still as he does the same. He's staring at you. You're certain of it.

A flag waves in front of your face and you fall back against the wall. You turn and elbow your way through the bodies. You're so thirsty.

You stumble into the shop. It's busy too. You grab a vitamin water, then go back to the fridge and grab a second.

You wait your turn, littering, and pay. As you go out, the parade is at the next corner. There's a ripple over the crowd as they send up a gasp.

You spin as the blue and red figure zips through the sky. He seems to be coming right for you before he suddenly stops and flips forward in the air. It's awkward but the crowd cheers as if it were a truck.

You don't wait around. You hurry home and twist off the cap of the first bottle. You guzzle it down until it's empty then do the same to the second.

You stagger back to bed and fall face first into the blankets. You groan. You can hear the crowd, almost as if you're still in it. You're both tired and not. You just feel strange. Very strange.

You close your eyes and see another pair. Bold and blue. You shiver. There's something wrong with you.

🦸🏻‍♂️

You wake to the sound of billowing. You look over instinctively to the window, but blinds don't billow. You gasp as the long cape ripples in the night sky. Strangely, your first strike of horror isn't for the man, or whatever he is, standing on your window pane. No, you're late for work.

You sit up and push yourself to the far end of the bed as your heart races. You stare at the silhouette. "You're not real," you croak.

He drops off the pain and lands lightly on the floor. Your eyes oan from foot to head. He's large. Gargantuan. His shadow alone is impenetrable.

He doesn't speak. He nears the end and his eye sockets glow and eerie red. You cower and slip a foot off the other side. He bends and grabs you. His large hand snags the back of your neck as he drags you across the blankets.

You quiver and whine, "please..."

He bends his head and burrows his nose in your hair. He quakes as he takes a deep breath and whimpers. He pinches your neck tighter and growls.

"Please..." You whisper, confused.

His hand shifts around and with both, he grips your head. He hushes you as the tension courses through him. His strength presses through his thick fingertip.

He lifts you by your head as you cry out. You don't understand. He's supposed to be a hero. He's Superman. Why is he here? Why is he hurting you?

He hurls you down on the thin mattress. You cry out as you bite your tongue with the force. You cup your mouth as he reaches for you again.

You writhe helplessly as he grabs at your clothes. He tears through the cotton and denim with no effort at all. Everything is so dim and dreary, it feels like a dream. Yet his touch, his glowing eyes, are all too real.

He strips you down to nothing. You push your elbows down onto the bed as you drag yourself away from him. He grabs your ankle and pulls you back. You whine.

"I'm..." His voice is deep and distorted. "Not... Like this..." He squeezes until your bones bend. "I... I... Can't..."

He yanks you across the bed like a rag doll. He lets your leg fall over the edge and he grabs your waist. He stands you up, dwarfing you with his sheer size.

He keeps a hand on your waist as the other grabs your jaw. He tilts your head and nuzzles behind your ear. He sniffs; down your cheek, under your jaw, along your throat. He lifts you to inhale more of you. Your chest and stomach. You grasp his shoulders as his strength has you dizzily off kilter.

He raises you higher and pulls your legs over his shoulders. You hug his head as you fear plummeting from the height. You hunch under the ceiling as he has you nearly against it.

His warm breath tinges your pelvis and you squirm. The fog of your mind clears all at once as it sets in. This is not a dream.

He pushes his nose between your folds and sniffs loudly. He groans and leans his head back, dragging his nose against your pussy, trailing it with his tongue, flattening it to taste all of you. You spasm and cling to his thick hair.

What's happening?

He snarls and laps again. Your legs tingle and your spine arches. All control seeps out of your body as his tongue flicks over your clit. You squeal as he closes his lips around the tender bud and pressure pinpoints in your core.

He sucks until your choking on your moans. You curl over his head, hips rocking without a thought, muscles tied up in knots. His large hands spread across your ass as he devours you. Just a thing for him to use.

You cum as his tongue lashes over your clit. You feel it smear across his face and how he rubs his nose and chin through it, coating himself in you.

He pants against your cunt. You tremble as tendrils crawl through you, plucking at your muscles. He leans his head against your stomach and sighs.

He doesn't move for a while. He keeps you like that, limp and latched onto him.

He unhooks your left them then your left. You keep your arms locked around him as he lowers you. He guides your legs around his torso. He keeps you aloft with one hand under your ass as his other dips between your bodies. He tugs at his pants.

You frees himself and you twitch as his smooth tip brushes against your naked ass. He shudders again as he rubs himself against you deliberately. You feel the slimy pre-cum stain your skin. Your head lolls against his shoulder. He buries his nose in your hair again.

"You smell like... Like... Mine," he snarls as he pushes himself along your cunt, prodding at your entrance.

His fingers knead your ass and he pushes you onto him. You squall as just his tip as it stretch you tightly. You roll your head against him and bite his shoulder.

He hums and lifts you off him only to push back in. Just his tip. He does it again and again. Still you can't handle it.

You quake and cling to him as you whine. You plead as you rub your hand up to tug at his hair. "Too much..."

He doesn't stop. He moves you down his length. You cry out again. The strain brings tears to your eyes. You groan as he once more drags you off him and puts you back on.

His breath dampens your scalp as he continues to inhale you. He smudges his lips against your hair, almost as if he's trying to taste you. He growls and jerks his hips, sinking further in.

You pull your head up as your spine locks up and you beat on his chest.

"I can't... I can't..." You beg.

He slides his hand around your hip as he presses his forehead to yours. He forces you down completely. Your toes go numb and your back tightens to the point of agony. Your insides are on fire.

He stays deep in you as his voice rolls from his chest. He staggers and turns to lean in the open window. You lean into him once more, weak to his intrusion.

He curls his hand around the side of your neck and scoops his other under your ass. He sighs as he reclines through the window. It's as if he's laying on an invisible bed.

He extends his entire body parallel to the floor and drifts outside, floating over the city scape. He rises with you stop him, higher and higher in the night sky. His breaths are deep, his broad chest constrained beneath the sewn emblem.

He pushes on your rear, rocking you on him. You spasm and brace yourself with your hands on his stomach. You gnash your teeth as he puts you in motion. He guides you up his length, long and slow, only to ram you back down. His voice unfurls into the night as clouds wisp around you. Your head feels light and empty as he fills the rest of you with his heat.

He brings his hands around your hips and holds you in place. He bucks into you from beneath, cracking your bones with each thrust. You drone wildly as you throw your head back, consumed by the torturous storm of agony and delight.

You slump as the air burns in your chest. You can't get enough of it. He sits up and leans you against him as he keeps his hips tilting. You slouch against him, gasping and gulping.

He pets your head as he pumps into you. Deeper and deeper. Your eyes roll back as you succumbs to the weakness. He pushes his nose into your hair again.

"You made me this way..." He growls. "I'm not this..."

[xhoneygirlxx]

Juicy

Eddie Munson x big boob fem!reader

summary: the heat causes you to let the girls hang free and it causes Eddie to be a flustered mess

warnings: she/her pronouns used, reader has breasts and wears feminine clothing. skin color/ethnicity is not mentioned! Eddie being a flustered cutie. idiots in love :) mentions of high school jocks being gross. 18+ MINORS DNI. smut: heavy making out, grinding, titty sucking, premature ejaculation. mentions of titty fucking and cumming on tits. shitty writing and not proofread.

a/n: hello my honey buns!! i wanted to get something out while i work on some of my current wips. i got inspired to write this bc i have a tig bitties and every time i wear a bra i feel like i'm dying and i'm too insecure to not wear one lmao. also, i just wanted to say that all different shapes and sizes of bitties are beautiful!!! also please be kind! smut is not my strong suit.

The late August heat made living in Hawkins unbearable. That might be an over exaggeration since you've never traveled anywhere outside of your town, but it still felt like the underside of satan's ballsack.

You regret agreeing to hangout with Eddie the minute you saw the afternoon weather forecast and regret it even more when you got into the metalhead's van. With no working a/c in the vehicle, there was no choice but to have the window's down to get some sort of circulation.

It wouldn't be so bad if there was a breeze but the air was dry, burning your lungs with every single intake of oxygen. You could feel the sweat rolling down your spine, making the thin cotton tank top you had on stick to your skin.

The cotton shorts you had on didn't quell any heat that you were feeling, only making your thighs stick together uncomfortably. Eddie being the angel he was, had already stopped at the gas station, picking up whatever snack he thought you might want, including a cherry icee that was already melted.

The sweat the beaded at your hairline, falling down your face like raindrops, matched the sweat on your cardboard cup. Syrupy sweetness coated your tongue as you drank it, coolness going down your throat to extinguish the flames within your body.

You needed to get out his car as soon as possible and into some air conditioning. Eddie on the other hand looked as cool as a cucumber. His cut band tshirt blowing through the warm air, black jeans tight on his lower body, and his brown curls in a low bun.

You almost wanted to hate him for being so calm, never showing any discomfort when it got hot like this. God, you hated the way he looked so relaxed, puffing on his cigarette and driving with one wrist on the steering wheel. The sun shining off of his ringed fingers, the band squeezing at his tiny waist, the black ink on his alabaster skin dancing with every move he took- he was so beautiful and it was making your temperature rise even higher.

When he pulled up to his trailer, you were up and out of the van before he could even pull the keys out of ignition. To your dismay, he was taking his sweet time getting out of the car, making you wait in the blaze of the sun. If you didn't know any better, you'd think the cheeky asshole was doing it on purpose. As he rounds the car, a plastic bag dangling from his wrist, a playful smirk paints his lips.

He's definitely doing it on purpose. Asshole.

"Where's the fire, Cherry?" he jests playfully at you, making you scowl even more.

"It's going to be in your hair if you don't hurry the hell up." You yell back at him. A small laugh leaves his pretty lips, shaking his head as he pulls out his key to unlock the door.

"I'll open the door faster if you say please." You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. Playing up the part even more, Eddie takes his time putting the key into the door.

"Oh please Eddie, would you be so kind and unlock the door?" You smile sarcastically up at him. He mimics you, straight white teeth flashing brightly in your eyes.

"Now was that so hard?" Scoffing at him, you push right past his body and enter the trailer.

The small a/c unit the sits in the window works overtime, buzzing and rattling loudly, to cool down the small trailer. It feels like heaven when you walk in, the immediate temperature drop makes goosebumps rise on your skin.

Plopping down on the well loved couch, you sprawl your limbs out trying to cool every inch of your skin. Placing the bag of treats on the table, Eddie makes his way into the kitchen to retrieve a beer from the fridge.

"Is Wayne off today?" The absence of the older man only coming to your attention.

"Yeah, he went to Darla's house." Eddie mutters his response as he works the cap of the beer bottle off.

Darla was Wayne's new girlfriend he had been seeing the past couple months. You had fallen victim to many of Eddie's rants about his uncle coming home late and never calling letting his nephew know he was safe.

Humming a response, you turn your attention to the television that's currently playing reruns of The Golden Girls.

Now that you've been in the cool air for not even five minutes, the creeping heat comes back into your body. The culprit being your chest, heat radiating in the cups of your bra. It was uncomfortable already with the weight on your back and shoulders, not to mention the sweat that collected in the fabric.

Jumping up abruptly from your slouched position, you work your hands around your back preparing to take off the article of clothing. . Before you it off, you remember that you're not in your own home and that it might make Eddie uncomfortable.

As he walks in from the kitchen, sipping on his chilled beer, he catches your stare. Raising a brow and removing the bottle from his mouth, he turns to you.

"You okay over there?" He questions you, eyeing your posture and how you look like you've been caught in the act of something you shouldn't be doing.

"I need to take my bra off but I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

Oh boy is he caught of guard, choking on his spit loudly. His cheeks are tinted a deep red, eyes wide and bulging from his face. Of course he didn't care, you guys were friends and he always wanted you comfortable. The only problem was that you would be braless, sitting next to him.

It's not like you haven't before, any time you wore big baggy shirts he knew you didn't have a bra on, but the extra material of your shirt blocked the visuals of your loose breasts.

When you cock an eyebrow at him, he shakes his head, brown curls bouncing with the movement.

"Y-yeah sure. Ya know what we Munson's say, this land is your land, or whatever." He chuckles nervously eyeing you from where he stands across from you.

Letting out a roaring laugh, you reach your hands under the hem of your shirt, undoing the hook.

"I'm pretty sure Woody Guthrie said that, Eds." Forcing out a small laugh, he watches as you pull the straps down your arms and then pulling the material out from under your white tank top.

Yeah he's going to die right here in the middle of his living room. When you finally pull it from your sticky skin and discard it somewhere on the floor, your nipples pebble up from the cold air. You lean your head back and release a sigh of satisfaction.

You don't see how Eddie's drinking you in right now, how he's staring at the way your nipples are visible through the wet cotton of your shirt, or how he can see the fullness of your chest.

It was no secret that you had a bigger bust than most of the girls in town, earning the nickname of Cherry from all the jocks at school, which you took pride in and eventually took ownership of.

Unlike the jocks, Eddie never made any comments about your bust. Not that he didn't think of them when he was beating off in his room every night, but he never commented on them to you which you appreciated. To him you were just you, double d's or not.

While you were in pure bliss, Eddie was living a nightmare come true. The girl he's had a crush on since middle school is braless in his home, right in front of him. He didn't know how he was going to sit next to you now with the way blood was rushing to his cock, the stiff material of his jeans didn't help his discomfort.

"So, what are we watching today?" Cracking your eyes open to look at your best friend, you could still see him standing in the same spot, staring right at your chest.

Oh. OH. He was staring at your chest. You could have so much fun with this, give him a little taste of his own medicine for his little stunt earlier, making you wait longer in the heat.

"Eds?" Your tone was sinfully sweet. Placing your arms on either side of you, you used your forearms to push your boobs together as best as you can.

"Huh? O-oh yeah. Um, we ugh, we could watch Nightmare on Elm Street." He was tripping on his tongue every other word.

Quickly moving from his spot, he knelt down in front of the television to pop in the horror movie. The boy who was so unbothered by record breaking heat, was now a sweaty, heavy breathing mess because of you.

After starting the movie, he slowly retreats to the couch but as far away from you as humanly possible. Maybe it wasn't that he was hot and bothered by you, maybe he was just uncomfortable with your state of dress.

For the first twenty minutes of the film that's all you could think, trying to figure out what you could do to make the situation better. Without thinking, you take a lollipop out of the bag of goodies he bought, popping it right into your mouth.

You took your time, swirling your tongue around the red candy, hallowing your cheeks every so often. You weren't really paying attention to what you were doing, staring straight ahead at the glowing screen. Eddie was paying attention though, growing unimaginably harder than before.

The movement of Eddie taking the pillow from behind his back and placing it right on his crotch, brings your attention the boy next to you. He wasn't as smooth as he thought, the placement of the pillow gave it away right away. His sweat soaked bangs, bouncing leg, and red cheeks definitely gave it away.

Removing the lollipop from your mouth, you place it down on the discarded wrapper laying on the table. Turning to him, your knees criss cross, you say his name softly.

His head turns with speed when you call him, chocolate brown eyes replaced with the darkness of his pupils.

"Are you okay? You don't seem, well you seem bothered. If it's me not wearing a bra, Eddie I can put it back on." You sputter out, worry rising in your stomach at the thought of making him feel awkward with your braless tits.

Releasing a loud sigh, he runs a hand down his face. "Cherry, I'm not bothered by you not wearing a bra. Well, okay, I am but I'm not uncomfortable."

He's staring right at you, almost like he's waiting for you to catch on but you don't. Eyebrows furrowed, you try to understand what he had just said to you. Before you can ask, he reiterates himself.

"Baby, I'm not bothered because you don't have a bra on. I'm very much the opposite and because I'm a gentleman, I'm trying to make myself calm down the best I can. It's just hard to do that when you're deep throating a sucker right next to me." The last part comes out as a joke, dimpled smile to prove it.

So you were right, he was hot and bothered by you. Just like he made you wait for him, you made him wait even longer to rid himself of his discomfort happening in his pants.

"Well Eds, you know if you wanted to see them all you had to say was please." You tease and he groans loudly, throwing his head back.

"Please, Cherry." He begs and you give in, lying back on the old couch. Beckoning him over to you, you spread your legs to give him room. Like a panther, he pounces on you, smacking his lips to yours.

Its heavy and animalistic the way your tongues attack each other. The lingering taste of beer mixes with the cherry from your candy. When you push your hips up to get some friction on your aching heat, he whimpers in your mouth.

He takes your motions as permission to grind into you, the pressure making both of you moan in unison. Pulling away from your mouth so you two can breathe, he moves to his next target.

The warmth of lips meet the chilled skin of your neck, he kisses all around the precious skin to find that sweet spot. When a wanton moan falls from your red stained lips, he thinks he's hit the jackpot. Sucking and kissing the spot under your ear, you're sure there will be a blotch of purple there.

You hiss out when he runs his teeth along the spot, jerking your hips up in excitement. Moving his face so that he's looking at you, you can see the spit that coat his red swollen lips, the lust the pool in his eyes. He's so pretty like this, so fucking pretty and he's all yours in this moment.

"Can I see your pretty tits, Cherry?" He asks so sweetly, like he didn't just sinfully makeout with you. Nodding in approval, he shakes his head at you.

"I need words, princess." He waits for you, who is currently looking up at him like he's hung the stars and moon. You look so fucked out and so disheveled. He's always known he was going to marry you but when he looks at you he has no doubt that he's going to marry you.

"Please, Eds."

That's all he needs to hear before he's pulling the front of your shirt down, revealing your chest to him. He stays there for a minute, looking unbashful at your tits, like they were the eight wonder of the world.

His unwavering gaze starts to make you insecure, worrying that maybe they weren't as nice as he thought they would be. They were heavy and slightly sagged due to the weight, you had stretch marks that decorated the skin like a zebra.

Pulling your arms up to cover yourself, he grips your wrists and pulls them down. Moving his gaze back up to you, his eyes are much softer.

"Don't hide, please don't hide. Not when I've waited so long to see these." A tingling sensation fills your face, making you smile giddily up at him. When you nod at him, he goes in face first into your chest.

"Fuck, I've dreamt of this for so long." You want to respond but you can't when his mouth is placing pecks to the delicate skin of your breast.

Resuming his motions from before, his hips roll right into yours like a wave crashing on the shore. He's everywhere, filling all your senses. Eddie.Eddie.Eddie. That's all that's in your mind, especially when he places your pebbled nipple in his mouth.

"Fuck, Eddie." You hiss out, reaching your hand to the nape of his neck, placing a gentle pressure to keep him there. His switches between swirling his tongue around the numb and sucking on it.

His other hand snakes up to your abandoned breast, groping the fat of it before his fingers pinch the nipple. It's sinful the way it feels, his hard cock hitting right where you need him, the warm of his mouth, and the moans that you release.

Eddie groans, causing your skin to vibrate. Removing himself from your abused breast, he moves to the other one, finally giving it the same attention as the other.

"Fuck, you're so hot." He groans out, eyes closed in ecstasy, high off the scent and taste of you. His movements start getting faster causing him to moan even louder.

Moving away from your chest, he looks down at you, the way your tits bounce with every roll of your hips. He looks at the mark he made on your neck, and how your skin shines with his saliva and your sweat. Your pupils are blown wide, lips puffy and shiny. Then he moves his eyes back to your tits, imagining what it would feel like to run his dick on your sternum, how pretty they would look coated in his pearly white cum, and how hot it would be to titty fuck you.

Every possible scenario plays out in his head when he looks at you and it's too much. With one finally grunt, pulled deep from his stomach, he hangs stops all his motions, collapsing onto of you.

Dazed and slightly confused, you let him catch his breathe. When he brings his face out from the crook of your neck, he has a boyish smile pulled on his cheeks.

"Ed, did you just-"

"Cum in my pants like a teenager? Absofuckinglutely, but if give me about five minutes I'll give you everything you want." You reach your hand up to his face, pushing some of the loose hair that fell from his ponytail, behind his hair.

"If you say please, pretty boy."

He didn't need five minutes, instantly getting hard from the sultry tone of your voice.

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[therogueflame]

The Heir

hi,

this is for this anon, so here is a little-ish drabble bc i didnt know how to make this into something super substantial. i also didnt know what gif to choose my bad. love you bye

📖 masterlist

🖊 ao3

🗒 wip list

🔥 discord server

Summary: In the quiet hours of the night, you and Cregan face the future growing between you, caught between the weight of duty and the fragile hope of giving your child a life beyond the crown.

WC: 1.4k

Warnings: 18+, pregnancy, light arguing, arranged marriage implications, angst, fluff

KingConsort!Cregan Stark x Targ!Queen!Reader

The fire had burned low, leaving only the soft glow of embers. It cast the chamber in a muted, flickering gold, shadows stretching long across stone and wood, as if even they had grown too weary to stand upright. The air smelled faintly of ash and warmed velvet, and the quiet settled thick and heavy in a way you rarely found anymore. Beyond the balcony doors, the city murmured—distant wheels grating against cobblestones, the occasional far-off shout—but none of it reached you here, not truly, not in the queen’s chambers sealed tight against the world you carried on your shoulders.

Your body ached in slow, relentless ways you hadn’t expected. It was not the sharp, blinding pain the midwives warned of, but something deeper, older, a weariness that settled into your bones and whispered of a different kind of battle. The crown you had worn all day sat abandoned on the table beside you, catching what little light was left and reflecting it in trembling shards. Even without it resting heavy on your brow, the weight of rule clung to you, pressing into your skull, your ribs, your very breath.

You had not summoned the handmaidens. They knew better now than to ask. You needed the stillness more than company, needed a moment where you could hear your own breathing, steady and uneven against the hush of the night. Your fingers drifted to the swell of your belly, round and full beneath the thin silk of your nightdress, and the babe within shifted—just a slow, deliberate roll, as if stretching in their sleep. You closed your eyes, biting gently at your lower lip, and let the feeling wash over you. You had grown accustomed to their movements, yet each flutter still startled something deep within, something fierce and unnameable that curled itself into your heart.

This child was already everything. A bloodline. A future. A cost.

You had told Cregan. Told him in the same voice you used to command lords and councilmen, like it wasn’t shattering something inside you just to say it aloud, that the babe would bear your name, your title, your throne. He had listened in silence, offering no argument, but no comfort either.

When the door opened, it did so without a sound. It never did with him. Cregan moved like a shadow in these halls, silent and sure-footed, as if even the stones of Maegor’s Holdfast dared not betray him. You felt him long before you turned your head—the shift in the air, the grounding weight of his presence. He crossed the chamber slowly, boots scuffing the carpet’s edge, gloves landing with a quiet thud upon a nearby table. No formal greeting, no clearing of his throat like so many men at court. Only the sound of his breathing in the hush.

You counted six breaths. Then seven. Eight. When he remained silent, you spoke first.

“I meant what I said,” you murmured, voice quieter than you had intended, worn thin at the edges. “The child will inherit. They’ll take my name. My crown.”

Another breath, heavy between you, before he answered.

“I know,” he said. “I knew it from the moment you placed your hand on your belly.”

You turned then, met his gaze across the dim room. He stood by the hearth, tall and unmoving, firelight sharpening the lines of his face, casting his eyes in a glow that could not soften the tension building behind them.

“Then why are you angry?” you asked.

“I’m not angry,” he said, brow furrowing slightly.

“You haven’t spoken to me all evening.”

“I have been listening.”

“To what?”

“To the silence,” he said. “To everything that didn’t need saying. You are queen. The child is yours. The crown passes through you. That has always been the way of it. I knew it when I placed the ring on your hand. Knowing it does not make it easier.”

You straightened, hand pressed firm against the curve of your stomach. “They are owed the realm.”

His nod was slow, heavy. “Perhaps they are. But what of the price they must pay for it?”

The words landed hard between you, and for a moment neither of you spoke.

Cregan remained rooted where he stood, arms crossed loosely, the dying light catching on the fur trim of his cloak. He didn’t raise his voice—he never needed to—but the weight of him filled the space between you as surely as any army.

“I never fought your claim,” he said again. “Not when the lords doubted you. Not when the Small Council questioned your right to rule. I stood beside you when it would have been easier to stand aside.”

“And I have never forgotten that,” you said quietly.

“Then trust me now.”

You drew a shallow breath, feeling the way the babe shifted against your ribs. “This isn’t about trust. It’s about survival. About legacy.”

“It’s about control,” he said, voice firm but not cruel. “And fear.”

You flinched as though he had struck you, but you held your ground. “I am doing what must be done.”

“And what of what should be done?”

He stepped forward, deliberate, as if unwilling to let you retreat. “This child is not a weapon. They are not a tool for the realm to wield.”

You lifted your chin. “I am protecting them.”

“And in protecting them, you would chain them to a life chosen for them before they can speak,” he said. “You have carried the crown so long you cannot imagine setting it aside, even for their sake.”

The words struck deep. You folded your arms around your stomach, as if shielding the child from the world already.

“You want them raised in the North,” you said stiffly.

“Yes.”

“Far from court. Far from me.”

“No,” he said, his voice softening. “Raised in both. To know the snow beneath their boots and the wind in the pines, but also the sea air of Blackwater Bay. To see stars unobscured by torchlight and to learn their lineage with pride, not fear. To know they are both Stark and Targaryen.”

“They’ll never belong anywhere,” you whispered. “Not truly. Half of each world but never whole.”

“They will belong to themselves,” he said. “If we let them.”

You shook your head, throat tightening. “The lords will see it as weakness. They’ll say we’ve turned the heir against the realm.”

“Let them,” he said. “We have endured worse.”

Your voice broke despite you. “They will tear them apart.”

“Then we will hold them together.”

You turned your face away, blinking against the burn behind your eyes. “You don’t understand. You weren’t born to this. You don’t know how quickly the knives are drawn.”

“No,” he said, stepping closer, “but I know what it means to be loved freely. And I will not let fear shape our child into something small and brittle.”

Your shoulders sagged under the weight of it all. But when you turned back to him, he was moving toward you, and when the floor creaked softly beneath his knee, you felt your breath catch.

Cregan knelt before you, not as a lord to a queen, but as a man to the woman he loved. His hand rose, steady and warm, and pressed against your stomach. The child stirred, slow and sure beneath his touch, and you laid your hand over his without hesitation. His thumb brushed against the silk stretched over your belly, a quiet promise made flesh.

“I don’t want to take them from you,” he said, voice low and rough with feeling. “I only want them to be free. To know the snow and the sea, the dragon and the wolf, without shame. To choose their life instead of having it carved into them.”

You closed your eyes, let your hand slip into his hair, felt the familiar weight of him as he bowed his head against you.

“They will know both,” you whispered. “They will have it all.”

He let out a long breath, pressing a kiss to the curve of your belly, then rested his forehead lightly against your sternum, breathing you in like a prayer he would not speak aloud.

“We will teach them,” he murmured. “Together.”

You bent to meet him, your forehead resting against his, breath mingling in the warm, dim space between you. The fire crackled, the child shifted, and the world, so vast and sharp beyond these walls, narrowed down to something tender, something certain.

You stayed like that for a long while, wrapped in the fragile, luminous quiet of a promise neither of you would break.

[domesticandlovingmonsters]

Guard Captain Aram (M) x F!Reader (wip)

Because I feel bad with how long this is taking to come out, and I am currently stuck on how to proceed, I'm posting this as is.

I intend to complete it annd post it as a whole, but since I'm stuck, you got this. Consider this as a type of two-parter until I can work out how to write someone having a date and how conversations work. I swear I'm a good writer, guys!!! I know how sentences and dialogue works.

Words: 9.9k

Theme/Plot:  (Fantasy/Medieval)  You're a merchant, new to the city looking to start a business from the ground up. Having purchased a cheap, run-down building as your starting point, you work hard to make something of the little things you have. But after a string of robberies, you find yourself as the centre of the Guard Captain's attention.

The rain came down in pouring sheets. Deafening you inside your own dwelling as a year's worth of rain pummeled the tiled roof.

Thunder clapped overhead so close to the city roofs that the window panels shook in their frames.

It was a gloomy day. One that made the hours in the shop drag by at a snail's pace. Not a soul was out today. For good reason, or else they’d risk being washed away by the water flowing down the street drains. Thankfully, there was alot of old stock you needed to organize and catalog to keep you busy.

The storm was a blessing in disguise. Despite the chilly weather.

With the lack of customers to keep an eye on and take commissions for, it allowed you to tune up the shop within your actual work hours. And not drip over into the late afternoon like you dreaded.

And with the ample amount of downtime came the close inspection of how your little, ancient store held up in such a harsh rainstorm.

The last of your money had gone into buying this place. It was a cheap sale and the reasons for it were obvious. A small shop with a small dwelling connected to the back of it for residential purposes.

The paint on the front was peeling and much of the wooden beams needed some love and care. The windows had needed to be removed and replaced; they had been so grimey and cracked that it made the store look sickly from the outside. And dark and gloomy within.

Not to mention the rot within the wood in some places. Which had soaked up that lingering few coins you had after the sale. But it was better than leaving the place smelling like decaying wood and having openings for rats.

The roof seemed fine, the tiles were covered in moss and some were cracked, but you didn’t see any damage other than age.

It has been months since you bought it and this had been the first real change in sunny weather, so you were walking around the place constantly looking for leaks.

So far, nothing splashed against the wooden floor. Your little shack was holding up nicely under the rain, even if the walls groaned rather worryingly whenever the wind rushed through the city streets.

The shop was nothing spectacular, you knew that. But it was yours. And it was a much nicer place than the roadside stall you used to man while you traveled.

You glanced out the window as a flash of white light illuminated the dreary street outside. And winced at the image of you and your old horse and wagon in such weather.

Many times you had been caught out in storms like this. Losing stock to the water or your wagon’s wheels getting sucked into the muddy roads.

Looking back into your warm, dry shop; a new type of appreciation came to you with your decision to settle down. And you took a deep breath of dusty, humid air and smiled.

Your shop.

It still felt weird to say. But it was still just as exciting.

Over the thunder and tumbling rain, your shop-door’s bell chimed. Alerting you to two customers that all but barrelled into the dry space.

They were soaking. But smiled cheerfully as you greeted them. One had an umbrella that looked like the wind had torn it asunder and both their hoods were raised low over their faces. Leaving only their wide smiles for you to see.

“We are so sorry for dragging water in here.” One said, a woman. Rubbing her arms to retain some heat beneath the thick cloak. “But we’re in need of some alchemy ingredients, if you have any. You’re the closest store to ours and we’re low on some things to make cold remedies.”

The other customer, with the torn umbrella, looked around your small store with a grin. “You’ve really spruced this place up. It’s so much nicer here than what I last remember. The last owner did not care for this building at all.”

You smiled as their hoods were lowered. You recognized them as the potions store owners down the street. You spoke briefly once. They were nice people. But very busy. And their names eluded you, unfortunately.

“Welcome! And don’t worry about the water, it’s unavoidable at the moment. I think I tracked in half the realm’s mud this morning. Please, come in. What did you need exactly? I have a few stocks that might be what you need.”

The woman huffed with visible relief and hurried forward to your counter. Where you withdrew some small boxes of bottled ingredients and jars of various substances.

You didn’t sell anything but the basic materials. Your shop was more a general store than a particular theme. You still weren’t sure what you wanted to be in the city.

You’ve only ever known what you could carry. On the road, certain ingredients didn’t travel well. And jewelry or fine goods made you a target for bandits.

Here, within the safety of the city, you could be any type of trader you wanted. You just still weren’t sure what niche you wanted to be.

But your general goods were exactly what these two were looking for. And your eyes widened in surprise when they asked to buy your entire stock of your basic ingredients.

“I know it’ll put you out, but we’ll pay you an extra sum on top of the sale. Our next shipment of this isn’t for another week, and we have so many commissions coming in for cold remedies.” The man said. Already pulling out a large coin purse from his belt. “And you’ll be doing us a huge favor. If you need anything-”

“It’s a deal.” You said, waving away the man’s pleading stare. “We’ve got to look after each other after all. I was going to offer a discount since you’re buying such a large amount.”

The bell over your door chimed and you shifted behind your counter so you could see around the couple. A young woman shuffled into the store. Her eyes looked around the shelves with interest and a thin cloak was wrapped around her shoulders.

“I’ll be with you in a moment!” You called out to the woman. Seeming to startle her. But she smiled, it felt a little forced, and moved deeper into your store. Her eyes darted around and then back to you.

You were about to say something else when the potion’s woman handed you a sum of coins. “I insist. I know how frustrating it can be to be out of stock. Particularly ingredients like this. Please, take the extra sum. You’re doing us a huge favor with-”

The woman’s partner glanced over his shoulder as the woman at the back moved quickly towards the door. Her shoulders were hunched as she braced for the cold water to hit her as she opened the door.

“Hey! You, wait!” He shouted but the woman was already sprinting out the door. Almost slipping on the wet pavement outside. The potion’s man swore and handed his partner the purse. “That girl is the one who stole from us last week. Get the guards!”

Before you could react, the man was barreling out of your store and charging out into the rain. His partner seemed just as surprised as you but quickly pocketed the purse and looked at you.

“Do you have a way to summon the guards directly here?” You shook your head. Your heart was pounding in your chest. “I have one in my store. I’ll go call them. See if you can find out if that woman stole anything from you. I’ll be right back.”

The woman left her crate of goods behind as she hurried out of your shop. You were quick to follow, but went to where you last saw the woman browsing.

Your eyes flew from object to object. Taking note of any spots that seemed to have shifted or had missing stock.

Everything seemed fine. Until you noticed your small display of wands had been touched. These weren’t like the wands that witches and warlocks used. But temporary magical items that did various things depending on their make.

You had ordered these as a step into selling magical merchandise. To see how well they sold here. Kids adored the ones that created bubbles of light. And a few people purchased the design that acted as a quill that would write for you without you touching it.

You had recently restocked the display with other types. And there were two that were missing.

One was a water-make. Which either made water or removed it. Not enough to drain a lake or a pool, but a few buckets could be filled or emptied if needed.

And the second was a fire starter. Which spat sparks that would harmlessly bounce off of skin or clothes, but would light a small fire on even the most water-bogged logs or extinguish it.

You sighed. Already understanding why these particular items were stolen.

You’ve dealt with enough desperate people to know when it was necessity and not greed that pushed a person to steal.

You bit your lip. These wands weren’t expensive and were cheap stock to order.

Maybe if I’m quick I can stop the potions woman from calling the guards. You thought. But then you reminded yourself that the woman who stole from you, had also stolen from them. And over the first few months of owning and stocking this store, you’ve had more than your fair share of robberies and stolen items. If word got out that you let a person steal from you, this could spiral into something worse.

The best you could do for them was not press charges if the person is found.

You sighed again. Heavier than the last and moved through your store to get your cloak.

But on your way to the back, past a small lock-box display of jewelry, you noticed the glass lid had been pried open. The magical seal had been expertly dispelled and one of your silver rings, one that created a bubble of small protection, was missing.

You swore under your breath. Disappointment flooding through you.

Now you had to continue with the guards and hope they found the person.

That ring was an expensive item. The enchantment was a common one, but the ring amplified the bubble to be the size of a house. Something that was incredibly hard to do and would have taken alot of material to make such an enchantment safe and usable.

Hence why it was in a lock-box, under magical protection, and worth a decent sum of coins. Another one of your stretches into unknown territory with sales and items.

It was nothing so expensive that it would put a target on your store. But it was one of your pricier items, one that a customer had been eyeing off last time they passed through.

“They just had to steal that.” You grumbled. Slapping the lid back down on the lock-box. The seal buzzed as the box was closed again, letting you know the magic was once again activated. You gave it an experimental tug on the lid and when it didn’t open, without your key, you were happy enough to leave it.

You retrieved your cloak from the back of the shop and exited your store. Making sure the door was locked and hurried down the street to the potions store.

You were near drenched when you slipped into the two story building. But the moment your foot stepped over the threshold, you were flooded with warmth and your clothes tickled with magic that left you dry and comfortable.

You definitely needed that enchantment on your front door.

From behind the many shelves, the potions woman appeared, looking flustered as she hurried towards you. “The guards are on their way. Did that wretched thing take anything?”

“Some low magic wands and an enchanted ring.” You grimaced. “I don’t care for the wands, so much. But that ring is expensive. As long as I get that back, I’ll let it slide.”

The woman scoffed and gestured for you to follow her, leading you to the back of the store where a pot of tea and some small biscuits were waiting. “That woman stole two potions of healing and an iron-bark elixir from us. I know times are tough. And the potions were only small portions, not worth alot. But the iron-bark elixir is a very slow and ingredient heavy process. We can only make so many a month and they're in high demand with the guards and travelers. If she only stole the potions, we wouldn’t have pushed so hard to find her. But the elixir alone can fix us up for an entire month.”

Your eyes widened. “Those elixirs are that expensive?”

“Ours are, yes.” The woman said, a little proudly, as she poured you a cup of tea. “Ours doesn’t just give you thick skin and more strength, we’ve perfected a way that the aftereffect of the elixir doesn’t put you in a bed for a day. It’ll affect you for a few hours at best after you use the elixir but unlike our competitors iron-bark, you can get up and get ready for the day after a good night’s sleep.”

You whistled in appreciation for such craftsmanship. “That’s incredible. I can understand why she would try to take it then. Sell it off for some quick coin.”

The woman nodded. Sipping her tea after putting some honey in it and stirring. “I grew up very poor. I used to steal bread and clothes to get by. But stealing potions like ours? You put yourself at such risk for it. Even your ring! The wands can be overlooked. But something like that is just…silly.”

You stirred some honey into your own cup and allowed the conversation to fall away as you sipped. Thankfully, the potions man appeared in the doorway. Looking winded and red faced. “I couldn’t find her. The damn woman gave me the slip.”

“Better you don’t approach her, love.” The woman said, with a soft smile. “Let the guards deal with her. They’re on their way.”

The man nodded. Taking a deep breath that his body obviously needed. He looked at you and offered a smile. “I’m sorry I couldn’t catch her. Did she steal anything?”

You explained the stolen stock and the man tsked. Muttering about the lack of respect for shopkeepers; “Especially one such as yourself. You’re just starting out! I recall my first few years as a storekeeper, my Gods, the ledger was never full enough. And every piece of missing stock was precious.”

You nodded, chuckling along with the man as he shook his head. “Well, at least our sale will help me out until I can get a replacement or the ring is found. I’ll bring the stock over once we’ve spoken with the guards. I didn’t think to bring it over just now.”

The two waved you off. Saying they trust you enough to not skip their deal because of a distraction like this.

The three of you chatted idly while you waited for the guards to arrive.

And when they did, you immediately recognized three amongst them.

One was a tall elf woman by the name of Yesrie. Dark hair with sharp eyes but a warm smile.

The second was a human man named Smith. You never got his first name because everyone called him by his second. He had been in his first year in the Guard when you arrived; eager to help and prove himself, he had taken your reports on missing items like a personal attack. And hunted them down like he was the one who owned them.

Then the third, the Guard Captain’s right hand, Briar. A green lizardman built like a stone barn. They were a stoic type of individual. Had a sharp tongue when it came to humbling their guards but professional when it came to their work.

They all greeted you a little more warmly than they did with the pair beside you.

Your first few months here allowed you to become quite friendly with the Guard. Not by any intent of your own, but your new store in town got more attention than you bargained for. And not in a good way. Stolen merchandise meant the Guard got involved. And it happened so often within a few weeks that the Guard Captain had stepped in.

And with that sort of attention watching your store, the thieves dissipated quickly.

“(Y/N), why am I not surprised your shop was involved?” Briar asked, crossing their arms over their armor plated chest. Their iron gauntlets clinked against the metal. “I had hoped that the call meant a different store.”

You shrugged, sighing dramatically. “It wouldn’t be a Thursday without something of mine going missing.”

Smith and Yesrie laughed. Briar’s reptilian face rarely showed much emotion other than a hard stare. But you glimpsed their scaly lips twitch in amusement.

“Indeed. You know the drill, then. What happened? Every little detail, as you know, helps us out.”

You explained the events that transpired within your store. Explaining why the potion-store owners were involved, which gave them a chance to explain how they recognized the person who stole from you.

Briar nodded along, taking in everything you said. Yesrie commented they were the guard that took the potion store’s report and that this thief was targeting many stores in the district, not just a few.

Smith was writing down notes in a small notebook that was the size of his palm. Asking the usual questions like the woman’s hair color or description. Which you had to let the potion shop owners answer, because you didn’t really take notice of the woman.

Then when you got to the descriptions of the stolen items, Briar’s tail twitched in irritation. Nothing directed at you, you found out. “Well, that complicates things. Stolen magical items of significant power require a formal report issued by the owner. Meaning, (y/n), you’re gonna have to go to the Guard House and fill one out.”

You groaned in annoyance. You had to fill out a report once before. It took forever. And you really didn’t feel like going across the district to the Guard House in this weather.

But if you want that ring back, or at least be compensated for its loss, you’ll need to go.

“I’m guessing I’ll need the paperwork I received for purchasing the item to sell?” You asked and Briar nodded.

“Proof of purchase or the license which came with the item. Anything that has the item’s description and magic detailed alongside your ownership. And it’s something you need to do at the House, too. We can’t issue you one, since you need a scribe to sign off on it and witness you filling it out.”

“All that for a magical item?” The potions woman scoffed. “Damn, I’m happy we never got into that side of the business.”

You wish you could agree with her. But you were definitely going to make an adjustment to your stock and protection so you didn’t have to go through this again.

“Alright. Thank you for your time. Sorry you had to march through this weather for my store again.” You said. And Yesrie shrugged, glancing out the window as another flash of lightning lit up the dim street outside.

“The weather makes you appreciate the sunny days more. We’ll see you at the House, (y/n).” Yesrie replied. And the guards took their leave.

You soon followed suit. Promising the potion owners you would bring their merchandise around soon. But they waved you off. Telling you to deal with the reports and the guards first before worrying about them.

You were beginning to really appreciate them. And made sure to lower the price on anything the two needed in any later deals.

Back inside your shop you made quick work of finding the needed documents that involved any transaction or information of the ring.

Which you then wrapped up in a leather satchel that was worn and aged from many years on the road. An old trusty item you’ve carried with you everywhere before placing it in the drawer of your new work desk.

It would protect the documents from the rain and keep them nice and flat while you trekked the stormy streets.

You wrapped yourself up in as much water-proof clothing as you could. Your cloak was your best chance at keeping yourself dry but watching the sky still bucket down torrents of water, you doubted you’d stay warm for long.

As long as the documents were safe, you could endure the rain.

And walking through the streets was just about as miserable as you expected. You stuck to any type of cover you could as you walked. Storefront canopies or trees that were planted along the paths. The thunder felt like it was roaring directly in your ear as you braced against the chilling wind.

You wrapped your cloak tightly around you and pulled your hood down so low over your face you could only see the pavement in front of you.

Every glance up at where you were going was a risk of cold water trickling down your neck and into your warm clothes.

You zigged and zagged through the district until you came upon the large stone steps of the Guard House. The House itself was huge! Meant to house many of the district's officers and their cadets. This one also doubled as a school for fresh-faced persons looking to become a guard.

As you climbed the steps to the door, you could hear someone yelling at said cadets beyond the stone wall that secluded the training yards from the streets.

You grimaced at the thought of training in such weather.

As you stepped through the doors, the same magic from the potion shop passed over your clothes. However, this enchantment felt like it was spluttering. Parts of you were left dry while other sections were left merely damp.

You were warmer than before you stepped inside but your fingers still felt icy as you approached the receptionist at the desk.

You greeted them warmly and explained what you needed to fill out. And the receptionist motioned for you to walk down a hallway and then turn right, which would lead you to the scribes that would help you out.

You thanked her and headed in your pointed direction.

The House was bustling with activity. You passed many guards through the halls, swathed in armor and weapons. A few scribes hurried by and you even made room for a woman with a mean looking hound to pass you in the hall.

She thanked you as she kept the beast on a short leash. The hound didn’t pay you any mind so you knew it was more for your sense of space than the dog’s.

But you found the scribe room easily enough and the man behind the desk went through the process of the report.

It was a long document too. With a handful of pages that you needed to fill out and agree too. The scribe looked equally annoyed with the prospect, apparently he needed to go over it and sign off as you went. It would take time out of both of your afternoon’s. But he took you to the side to a desk so you could sit comfortably and fill it out.

Excusing himself and asking you to call him over when you got to a particular section before moving on through the document.

You hoped the scribe didn’t think your agitation was directed at him as you sighed and sat down. But you got to work, reading over the lengthy questions and paragraphs with a quill in your hand.

A few minutes later, Briar entered the room and went to the scribe desk, speaking softly. When the scribe nodded and disappeared through a door, their eyes passed over you once before snapping back as they spotted you. They came over to greet you. Their tail dripped a little with rainwater. “Ah, it’s good to see someone with initiative. You got here quickly.” Briar said, leaning against another desk to your left.

“Better to get it out of the way now than later.” You shrugged. “You wouldn’t have happened to stumble across my thief with my ring by chance? So I don’t have to do this?” You asked, hopefully. But Briar shook their head.

That twitch pulled at their scaly lips again as a hissing chuckle whistled through their sharp teeth.

“If only we were that lucky. I have to do my own paperwork about it, as well. I envy you. I’d rather do your documents than my own.” Like the scribe was summoned, he appeared and placed a thick folder of paper on the front desk. Briar thanked him gruffly and went over to scoop it up. Grumbling as he showed you the thickness of the folder. “See. No complaining from you about lengthy reports. I will probably beat you on every account.”

You laughed and nodded. “I do feel a little better about my report now. Thanks.”

“Here to help. Enjoy.” Briar said with a curt nod before leaving the room.

You refocused your attention on the documents in front of you. Calling over the scribe when he didn’t look too busy once you got up to the section he requested.

And while he looked over what you wrote and ensured everything was in order, you let your gaze wander. The scribe hall looked like a bustling library. Desks and chairs were scattered about the room. And behind the front desk were many, many towering shelves of books and scrolls.

Scribes appeared and disappeared behind each corridor of paper. Some carried in armfuls of paper or were discussing something with a guard.

It was all very busy here. But the chatter was rather quiet. You wondered if there was some sort of magic that kept the sound of the hustle and bustle at a low range.

“Scribe Harry, I was told that- Oh, (y/n), what are you doing here?” Your attention snapped to the door of the hall as your name was voiced.

Guard Captain Aram strolled over to where you were sitting. Making your heart skip a beat when he leaned over the back of your chair to inspect the report.

Aram was an orc with a heavy green complexion that contrasted the pale patches of skin on his body caused by vitiligo. His blonde hair was tied back in uniform to the neat standards of the Guard.

His tusks curved out from his lower lip, decorated by silver caps on the blunt tips. His thick arms were wrapped in thick leather that slid under a heavy metal chest piece with the Guard’s symbol carved into the steel. The patches on his shoulders displayed his rank, if the better armor and air of authority didn’t already display it.

“I was robbed again.” You sighed. Pushing down the sudden rush of nervousness as you turned your attention to the captain. “A magical item this time. Briar came and sorted it out and told me to come here.”

Aram’s brows knitted together and you could have sworn you saw a spark of amusement light in those beautiful emerald eyes. Before the stoic expression of a guard captain fell back into place. “Ah, yes, the grand paperwork involved with magic. I thought you said you wanted to keep simple stock for a time.”

You nodded. Having to pause your answer to thank the scribe as he pushed the report back to you to continue writing. “Yes. But a friend of mine had some stock they couldn’t move in the settlement nearby. So, I took it off their hands.”

“And then someone decided to take it from yours.” Aram said. He glanced over at the scribe as he moved some dropped off paperwork into the shelves behind him. “Hmm, this will go quicker if I take over for the scribes. The poor bastards have had their hands full recently.” Then Aram called out to the scribe nearby, Harry, who looked relieved when Aram explained he’d be taking over witnessing you finish the report.

“Do you mind if we do this in my office? The magic in here makes my ears ache.” Aram asked. And when you nodded, Aram escorted you through the building to his office. Which you had been in once before when Aram had taken over the investigation of why your store was being targeted so frequently.

He closed the door behind you and you took the offered seat in front of his desk. Which he then slid your seat closer to the desk and made space on the surface for you to start the next section of the report.

He moved your chair so effortlessly with you in it that it made your stomach flip a little giddily. But you hid your smile as you busied yourself with reading over the next section.

“I was recently thinking about you. And, uh, the reports you had to make on your store.” Aram said rather quickly, fiddling with some papers on his desk. “It’s been a while since your last break in. I thought my trick did the job, to be honest.”

“For a while it did.” You agreed. Pausing to write down the description of the ring. “The extra patrols you had around the place seemed to scare them off. And gave me enough time to better the security of my shop. I still spot Smith on occasion in the area. But he always seems busy. I hope you’re not working him too hard.”

Aram chuckled. Picking up a quill of his own and scribbling over some papers on his desk. “The boy is fine. He’s eager for the work. But, uh…” You tore your eyes off the paperwork long enough to see why Aram didn’t finish his sentence.

His eyes were narrowed and his lips were pursed in a poor attempt at looking angry, looking over your head to the windows behind you.

You turned your head. And you caught a glimpse of something quickly darting out of view of the office. The room was enclosed but anyone in the hallways had a clear view of you sitting at Aram’s desk. The Guard Captain grumbled and stood, clearing his throat as he flicked a small switch and curtains fell down over the windows leading to the corridor outside.

“Nosy bastards.” You heard Aram mutter. But you pretended not to hear him as he returned to his seat and continued working on whatever was in front of him. “I was going to say he wanted to be set in that district. Apparently, his aunt lives around there.”

“Aww, that’s sweet of him. I’ll be sure to annoy him any chance I get when I see him.” You said, refocusing on the paper in front of you. You reached the next spot the scribe had told you to call for him and offered the papers to Aram.

Who went over the report swiftly and then handed it back to you after he signed off on the part he needed too.

“A ring of protection, huh? That didn’t move at your friend's establishment?” Aram asked, surprised. And you shook your head, writing as you responded.

“Their town was going through a drought. Which is probably being washed downriver right now with this rain. But no one had the money to purchase a ring like that. I offered to buy it off them and then give them a percentage if I manage to sell it. We used to travel together before they bought their store. They helped me get my place. Since I had no idea how to purchase property.”

Aram made a thoughtful noise, watching you as you worked. “Why didn’t you buy a place outside the city? Probably would have been cheaper. And also get you a better place than that splinter shack.”

“Hey, that’s my splinter shack you’re insulting.” You playfully snapped. Which made the Guard Captain laugh. “But I wanted to try the city. I’ve never stayed in one for long. And I thought a change of lifestyle would be refreshing.”

“And is it refreshing?” Aram asked.

You paused to look up at him, smiling. “Well, the people are much more interesting.” You let the sentence hang in the air for a touch longer before continuing. “And there’s always something happening here. And the food! Oh my Lords, I’ve never had such a wide variety of food always available. Every morning I get a fresh coffee with a freshly baked bun. A much better change than living off of dried meats and stale bread with cheese.”

Aram grinned at that. His eyes seemed to sparkle in the candlelight. “So, you think you’ll stay here for good then. This string of robberies hasn’t scared you off?”

You scoffed lightly and shook your head. “I’ve fought off armed bandits and kobolds from my goods before. A few hooded figures isn’t going to scare me off. I’ve gotten too comfortable sleeping in an actual bed now to give it up.”

Your words seemed to widen Aram’s smile. “Well, good to hear. The city always needs more good people like you in it. It would be a shame to see you go.”

Something in the way Aram spoke made your pulse quicken. Or maybe how his fingers brushed over your hand as you handed him the documents again for him to look over.

Either way, you were suddenly very aware of how little room there was between the two of you. Even if the desk was large enough to sit such a big man behind it, it felt like Aram was close enough to touch.

And as you took back the paperwork, you thought it was silly of you to think that he was putting his hand directly so that your fingers brushed over his.

It didn’t stop you from feeling how warm his hand was. Nor notice how much larger his hand was compared to yours.

You felt your cheeks flush with heat and you tried very hard to concentrate on the papers in front of you.

It still took an hour to go over everything, but you managed to finish the documents required. Aram took it upon himself to file it away as soon as possible. And asked you a few more questions about the robbery before opening the door of his office for you.

“I’ll be in touch in a few days.” Aram said, leaning against the doorframe. “If we find anything, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Thank you for your time, Captain Aram.” You said and then added jokingly. “And I’ll be sure to let you know if something else goes missing from my store.”

Aram laughed. “Let’s hope that doesn’t happen.” Then he glanced to one of the nearby windows as a crash of thunder sounded overhead “Have you got a way of getting back to your store? It’s still pouring outside.”

You grimaced and a shiver ran over you at the thought of the walk back. It was later in the afternoon now. The sun wouldn’t be set yet, but with the dark clouds overhead and closing to sunset, it was already pretty dark outside.

“No. It’s not that far of a walk, though. I’ll be fine.” You lied. And knew Aram would know this was your attempt at being polite and not complaining.

Aram’s warm smile dimmed and he shook his head. “I’m not having you walk home in this. I’ll get someone to drive you back.”

Your eyes widened and you tried to make an excuse that would justify not needing a driver. But Aram caught sight of Smith walking past and called him over.

“Yes, Captain?” Smith said as he approached. Looking between you and Aram worriedly.

“Get a carriage and drive (y/n) back to her store. And no side stops on your way back, got it.” Aram said, his voice harsh with authority as Smith’s confusion turned into something close to amused glee. He nodded and then looked at you.

“Your chariot is this way, ma’am.” He said with a little more bravado than needed. And you looked at Aram with a joking glare.

“You’re really going to subject me to this?” You asked. And Aram’s stern facade broke with a smile.

“I’d rather not hear that you got washed away by a river on your way home. Get her home safe, Smith.” Aram said before closing the door and leaving you to a beaming Smith as you followed him through the House.

“So, what did you and the Captain talk about in there?” Smith asked. Wiggling his shoulders in a teasing manner as he led you out into an enclosed barn connected to the Guard House. Where a carriage was currently being connected to two brown horses.

“He was overseeing the report I needed to fill out about the ring.” You explained. Ignoring the tiny flush of embarrassment that crawled up your neck. “The scribes were busy and he had time.”

Smith blew a harsh breath out of his lips. “Puh-lease, the Captain never has time.” And then so quietly you almost missed it. “But that seems to change for you.”

You chose to ignore him and wait by the House doors while Smith spoke with the person hooking the animals up. He then waved you over and opened the carriage door for you.

“My Lady.” He bowed his head and you tsked playfully at him.

“Stop that. It’s embarrassing enough as it is. Being escorted back home by a guard.” You mumbled as you climbed inside. Which got you a laugh from Smith.

“Come on, enjoy it! How many times have you been safely escorted home like the rich folk? Beat on the roof if you need me to stop for anything, alright?”

Smith closed the door once you were comfortably seated and you heard him clamber onto the front of the carriage.

The carriage itself wasn’t anything extravagant. The seats were plush enough to stop you from sitting on hard wood and there was enough space to fit four people.

It still felt a bit excessive for only you to be in here. But at least you weren’t going to be walking in the rain.

Your body lurched a little as Smith urged the horses into moving. And soon enough the carriage was filled with the deafening roar of rain pelting the roof above you.

You felt bad for Smith sitting up front. You had glimpsed a small canopy over the driver's seat. But that would be very little protection against the storm as it whipped around him outside.

You sighed. Relaxing against the seat as you glanced through the fogged window to the passing streets.

They were mostly empty. Apart from a few store fronts preparing to close for the afternoon. And some carriages that trotted past.

You haven’t gotten to experience a carriage ride in the city yet. You’ve been so busy with the store that any luxuries you usually would have gotten with your money were forgotten. Or spent on the store itself.

It was kind of peaceful watching the city pass you by.

You would definitely be sending another bakery basket to Aram for this. He had enjoyed the first one you sent after he helped keep your store safe last time.

I’m not having you walk home in this.

His words bounced around in your head like an endless echo. And you found yourself smiling.

And the way he had put his hand in the path of yours? It made your heart skip just thinking about it.

You shook your head. Trying to scatter the thoughts that were attempting to wriggle into your mind.

“Oh, stop it.” You sighed to yourself. “He’s just making sure you’re safe. That’s his job after all.”

You knew you wanted it to be a lie the moment you said it.

But you refused to think of any other reason that Aram would be doing this. You didn’t need something like that in your life just yet. You were busy as it was.

But…A small voice whispered. You definitely need something like him. Even only for a night or two.

Your cheeks burned as the thoughts spiraled and you shook your head again. Refusing to let those thoughts get any more traction than they already have.

It…has been a long time. But you were a business woman now. You had more important things at this moment than scratching that itch. Once the store was a little more organized and things calmed down, then maybe, maybe, you’d think about it.

You sat in your hurricane of a mind as Smith drove through your district and finally came to a stop just outside your store.

You went to open the door but Smith was already there. Drenched from head to toe but all smiles, bowing his head dramatically.

“My Lady! A pleasant ride, I hope.”

“Oh my Gods, you poor thing. Get back as quickly as you can before you catch a cold.” You gasped as you slipped out of the carriage. Hurrying to the safety of your store front.

“I’m fine. Get inside! I’ll let the Captain know you’re safely at your castle.” Smith called over the rain. And you didn’t even bother retorting, merely stuck out your tongue at him as you waved him off.

You heard him laugh and watched through your store windows as the carriage pulled away and disappeared into the heavy sheets of rain.

~*~

A few days later, the bell over your door chimed as someone entered. You called out to the customer that you’d be with them shortly and finished what you were doing in the back before greeting them behind your counter.

“Aram!” You beamed as the Guard Captain approached you. “What a surprise! Good news? Or bad news?”

Aram made a face like he was deciding, jokingly clicking his tongue as he leaned his arms on your counter. Crossing them over each other and coming down to your eye height.

“Which do you want first?” He asked.

You pursed your lips, hopelessly ignoring how Aram’s gaze flicked to your mouth before returning to your eyes as you said, “Good news first.”

“We found the woman who stole your items. Your ring is being processed and looked over to ensure it hasn’t been tampered with. It’ll take a few days to get back to you.”

You sighed with relief. “That’s good. But…the bad news?”

Aram’s grin made his eyes crinkle adorably as he shuffled his weight on his feet. He cleared his throat and it felt like he was forcing his gaze to stay on you. “The bad news is that I lost a bet involving the case. And you unfortunately will be put on the spot as I ask you out to dinner.” He cleared his throat again and stood at attention in front of you. Your heart pounded in your chest as he swallowed hard and said. “Would you like to go out to dinner with me?”

It was almost adorable at how worried Aram looked as you stared up at him. And it was even more so when relief washed over his expression as you nodded.

Before you realized you were even replying, you had said yes. You laughed sheepishly, shaking your head. “You lost a bet and you were forced to ask me out to dinner?”

“I wouldn’t say forced. That makes it sound like I didn't want to.” Aram replied. Scratching the back of his neck, under the thick braid of blonde hair. “I want to take you to dinner. I have for a bit now. I just…things got in the way and I wasn’t sure if you would be interested in me and…I’m sorry. I’m rambling.” He cleared his throat again. “This is me asking you to dinner, sincerely.”

“What would have happened if you didn’t?” You asked.

“Probably be called a coward by my men.” Aram replied. “Or someone would have done it for me, I’m sure. Or somehow talked you into asking me out. I don’t know. They’re very nosy. Very much like a bunch of highschoolers.”

“But they gave you an opening to ask me out to dinner. So, I would forgive them.” You said with a chuckle. And Aram visibly relaxed with the sound. “When would you like to set this dinner? I’m free most afternoons. I’m sure it’s your schedule we have to work around.” You said teasingly. And Aram nodded.

“I’ll free up my night next Friday, if that’s ok with you? I know it’s a while away but this week is choked up with work already.” When you nodded, Aram’s smile broadened and your body became heated under his sparkling gaze. You both discussed a place to eat, but since you rarely went out other than cafes and small take-away establishments, Aram promised he’d surprise you with a brilliant place to dine. “I’ll pick you up around seven? If the rain hasn’t stopped by then, I’ll bring a carriage around for us to use.”

You sarcastically rolled your eyes, “Please do not make Smith drive us. That was torture last time.”

Aram laughed but shook his head. “No, no. I won’t be letting those vultures anywhere near our dinner. I promise.”

Once you confirmed again the time and date, Aram excused himself, having to continue his patrol around the district. And the moment he left, your heart soared with excitement at the thought of dinner with Aram.

~*~

Friday couldn’t come any quicker.

The rest of the week fell into a snail like pace, dragging day and night until the morning of your dinner date with Aram.

The rain didn’t subside. Most of the city was now flooded or close to it.

You had braced your store for the worst. Purchasing new tables with waterproofing and protective surfaces, so if the water started to rise and your store was flooded, at least some of your merchandise would be saved.

Coincidentally, as you were unloading the transport carriage that had said furniture, three city guards came over to help unload them.

You didn’t know any of them, but you thought it was sweet that some passing guards saw you and the transport man struggling to move a table, and decided to help.

But that seemed to become a pattern over the course of the week leading to Friday.

You saw more guards than usual in the district and some greeted you as if you knew them. Smith came over to you whenever you were out. Conversing until he needed to leave for his patrol and you needed to return to the shop.

Briar dropped by and returned the ring to you. They was a lot more friendly than the prior meetings you had with them. They actually cracked a few jokes with you.

You finally caved when Yesrie just happened to be in the area on Friday morning. Popping by with a coffee for you. “Are all of you around here because I’m going out with Aram?” You asked. And Yesrie was terrible at feigning ignorance, even if she was joking the entire time she replied.

“You’re going out with my captain? That’s amazing! I didn’t know at all.”

You rolled your eyes and shooed her out of your store. Thanking her for the coffee and company before you needed to get to work.

But finally, the time came to close the store and begin getting ready for your date.

You chose something simple to wear but something to also make you look downright gorgeous. Being in the city had its perks and the ample amount of shops around allowed you to browse and pick something amazing for yourself.

You had half the thought it could be a touch overdressed, but you weren’t sure where Aram was taking you. And you did look good in it! So you wrestled down the nerves and waited for Aram to arrive.

You kept your hands busy with small things in your shop before a heavy knock sounded on your front door.

You quickly opened the door for Aram and he stepped inside wrapped in a thick cloak and hood sprinkled by the rain.

“Damn, look at you, (y/n).” Aram beamed. His eyes didn’t seem to know where to look. They definitely lingered along your chest and hips, but respectfully flicked up to hold your gaze very quickly when he caught himself staring. “I feel a little underdressed now.”

You glimpsed his attire beneath the cloak. Dark dress pants with a deep brown shirt that hugged his large frame snugly. He had decorative leather bracers along his wrists and his hair was neatly bundled up in a collection of braids. Each had small trinkets adorning the strands.

“Nonsense,” You said a little breathlessly. Have you ever seen this man out of uniform? “You look very dashing.”

Your words made his smile crinkle his eyes and he opened his cloak up to you. Nodding to the carriage waiting outside. “I forgot to bring you an umbrella.”

“Ah, yes. I also don’t own one.” You said, hoping the way you moved up beside him didn’t seem too eager.

And you absolutely had an umbrella. But you were not going to miss an opportunity to snugly press yourself against Aram.

Once you were standing against his side, Aram lowered his arm enough that the cloak surrounded you almost entirely. A sweet scent wafted off of him to you and you shivered as your arm brushed against his side.

He was so warm!

Together you exited the store, halting long enough to lock the front and then quickly dash to the carriage. Where a driver was waiting in the rain to open the door for the two of you.

You felt utterly terrible for the man. But as you clambered into the carriage, you caught a glimpse of your driver.

An automaton. A being made of metal and mechanical parts bowed their head as you greeted them. Their clothes were drenched but they didn’t seem to mind as Aram joined you in the carriage, taking the seat next to you, and the automaton closed the door behind him.

“Did you hire a driver for tonight?” You asked. Baffled by the beautiful interior of the carriage. It was much fancier than the one Smith drove you in. And the rain didn’t thunder the roof in this one. You could barely hear it as Aram responded.

“No. This is my carriage. Anthony out there works for me.” Aram said this as if it was a normal occurrence for someone to have an automaton driver. Or their own fancy carriage.

You tried not to balk at his words. Instead made room for him to remove the damp cloak and fold it on the seat across from the both of you.

“I didn’t know being a Guard Captain paid so well.” You teased. Watching Aram as he adjusted his shirt and ensured his bracers were still correctly placed on his wrists. There was a slight scruff along his cheeks and he had replaced the silver caps on his tusks with gold ones.

Damn, he dressed up nice.

Aram smiled and your heart shuddered when he winked at you. “It also pays to have been a successful adventurer beforehand.”

Your eyes widened and Aram laughed as you said, “Wait, you haven’t been a stuck up captain all your life?” Though your words were sarcastic, you couldn’t help but be impressed. “To be honest, I wouldn’t have guessed that was your past. Maybe a soldier of some kind? But not an adventurer.”

“You’d be amazed at how many guards of mine are retired adventurers or travelers looking to settle down. I knew the old captain before he retired. It sped up my promotions, I’ll admit, but I proved myself just like everyone else.” Aram admitted. Relaxing against the plush back seat of the carriage. “Chasing down burglars and walking the streets at night is a much better alternative to dungeon crawling.”

You hummed in agreement. “I do not miss the cold nights or falling asleep hungry. But there was definitely a charm to traveling that the city doesn’t have.”

It was Aram’s turn to agree with a grunt. “I do occasionally miss having the time and freedom to do whatever I want. But I wouldn’t give up my position for anything. Least of all, leave my Guards behind just to go treasure hunting.”

You caught a light twinkling in Aram’s eyes as he spoke. And his smile curled warmly at the corners. It was no secret that Aram was as loyal as any to the Guard, but there was definitely a type of kinship between them all as well.

“That does remind me,” You said, tilting your head teasingly at Aram. “Did you order more guards to patrol my district? I keep tripping over them everytime I leave the shop.”

Aram didn’t look surprised, but he didn’t look pleased about what you said either. “Ah, I was wondering why some of them took longer to return after their patrols.” You waited for Aram to say something else. And when he didn’t, you set a pointed stare on him, urging him to continue whatever thought was bouncing around in his head. Aram chuckled with a half roll of his eyes. “Alright, alright. This is a little embarrassing, but I believe they’re keeping an eye on you for me. On their own accord. I haven’t ordered anymore than the usual patrols in your district. But since…well, they’re a loyal lot and they want to make sure you’re safe.”

You laughed. It made sense why you saw Smith and Yesrie more than anyone else on your streets. “All because you asked me out to dinner?”

“Well…not just because of dinner. But that’s a conversation for later.” Aram said sheepishly. And he expertly changed the subject to your store and how it was faring in the weather. You let the conversation be swept into other topics, but you definitely would hold onto that little kernel of a question for later.

The ride through the city took a little longer than you expected. But soon, the streets outside transformed into a string of establishments on the docks. And the carriage was taken through a route that ran along the rough, crashing oceanside.

The beach looked absolutely ruined from the harsh tides. And the dark gloomy horizon was nothing more than a black screen of storm clouds.

Despite the rain, the street itself was bustling with activity. Lights illuminated the roads brilliantly in warm orange. And all along the sidewalk were canopies and large overhanging roofs to give shelter to the patrons that walked by.

Your carriage was taken to a restaurant that had a grand glass ceiling and a large balcony with many tables seated beneath it. Your table was directly next to the balcony edge, where a shield of magic protected you and Aram from the torrent of rain slashing down from above.

And you found yourself pleasantly warm as Aram pushed in your chair as you took your seat. The business must have heating enchantments placed around to keep their patrons comfortable.

“This place is lovely.” You said as your waiter passed you both a menu. Excusing themselves to give you time to look over their drink choice.

“It’s one of my favorite spots in the city. The ocean view usually is better, but I can at least trust the food will be good.” Aram explained, glancing over the railing to the harsh waves and dark waters. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all.” You quickly reassured him. “I’m just happy to have an excuse to go out. I’ve been putting off going out for dinner for a while. I don’t know alot of people here yet. I wouldn’t know where to start.``

“Well, I hope my choice becomes one of your favorites.” Aram smiled.

The conversation fell into a simple one of work. Aram asked more questions about your store while you prodded about his life in the Guard.

“Things have gotten better over the past few months.” Aram admitted, drawing idle circles on the condensation of his cup of mead. “But I’m sure…activities will pick up closer to the holiday season. I dread to think about that time of year. But it is at least never lacking on slow days.”

“I used to avoid cities during their festival seasons. As backwards as that is for a traveling merchant.” You said in return. “It always caused me more grief than coins. But I guess it’s unavoidable now that I have a permanent spot here.”

                ~~~~To Be Continued Because my brain is stuck~~~~~~

As always, feedback or suggestions are welcome!! 

[dirty-bosmer]

WIP Wednesday

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Tagging you again for this week if you haven't participated already and adding: @thequeenofthewinter @elavoria @gilgamish @kookaburra1701 @unironicallytes @miliabyntite @sylvienerevarine @wispstalk @nuwanders @inkysqueed @pocket-vvardvark @heavy-metal-dick @hircines-hunter @miraakulous-cloud-district @rustyram035 @darcxaosit

More Mathieu Bellamont because he is my beloved sack of spilled grain containing a single septim and a useless bolt of cloth <3

The first time you touch her, you don’t think of her at all. It’s the night of her induction, meant to be a solemn affair, and you lead her by the arm down to the dark chapel where the whole of the sanctuary is gathered before the shrine of Sithis, head-bowed and prostrate, reverent in prayer. Black tapestries of His likeness drape along the walls, hiding the rough-hewn stone behind them, adorning the room with nothing. Rumor is the ones who built this sanctuary carved the shrine beneath the chapel of Arkay— Bringer of Light, Lord of Burials, God of the Wheel of Life— and maybe you’ve been here too long or maybe you still resent Arkay for your birth, but it’s the kind of cliched, twisted humor you take strange comfort in. The room is smaller in silence as you take your place among your kin. Cold stone beneath your knees and cold air all around you, no warmth in this room despite the blood-beat of a dozen bodies. Maria kneels at the foot of the shrine while Vicente recites the hymns, and you bow your head like any faithful brother would, blending in with all the others. Down in the bowels of the sanctuary, beneath the streets of Cheydinhal, you imagine yourself as one of a thousand skittering ants. Here you are, bestowing your gift of ripe rot upon the hive, the noblest of deeds that your little ant heart could hope to achieve, and it’s fantasies like these that ease the burden of deception. Everything else in nature kills, Vicente told you when you joined. Everything else in nature feeds, grows strong off the flesh of others, so what senselessness that only when we do it is it deemed a sin? Then in your periphery, you catch a glimpse of him— Silencer Lucien in the corner, standing sentinel like a shadow. The mere sight of him makes you seize up, pushes all air from your lungs, but you stare in helpless horror, because your eyes would find him in a market crowd, in a night as black as pitch, while awake and while asleep, everywhere for all of time. Trapped in the same room, your hand craves the comforting weight of a knife, but when you reach, there’s nothing there, so you stare and stare and stare until your eyes water and flood with nothing but visions of his body and a red so rich it’s never been seen outside of blood.  He doesn’t look at you. Why would he? Little Mathieu who's barely there, who’s too soundlessly efficient to be worthy of attention, sprouted up from the darkness like mold, like an afterthought. Then the shrine room slowly empties, and you don’t know how long it’s been that you’ve been kneeling here, dreaming of ways to separate him from his skin. When you look up, only Maria’s left, concealing a yawn with her hand. “That was far more sermon and a lot less drinking than I thought it would be,” she says and pulls a flask out from within the draping sleeve of her ceremonial robe. “So, you want to get drunk?” You like her immediately.

[deathmybride]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ my iron lung | mickey barnes *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

ship: Mickey Barnes x fem!oc

warnings: None

summary: After a rough death, Mickey needs some TLC.

word count: 1982

a/n: BITCH I'M BACK OUT MY COMA 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

okay, so I've been working on a million bazillion things, not all of them fanfics, but most of them are. I'm trying to update all the WIPs, and I keep writing random things that don't get finished, but for some reason I was able to see this one through to the end. I love you robert pattinson <3

The printer feels different every time. Sometimes I’m gasping for breath as if bursting up from a frozen lake, other times I’m a wailing baby fresh from the womb. A few horrible times I’ve woken silent and trembling, lingering in a flip-book of repeated unnatural death. Invariably, the experience is unpleasant, but never as bad as dying. Mickey tends to handle it better. He sleeps in for longer, yawning and rubbing his bleary eyes as he begins another lifetime of suffering.

Anyway, this will be my twelfth print job, and Mickey’s seventeenth. As waking up goes, it’s not terrible. I don’t cry or gasp, but I feel hot and groggy, and there’s an ash of depression settling over my freshly synthesised mind. The first face I see is Dorothy’s. Her glasses perch at the end of her nose and she smiles warmly as my eyes struggle to bring her into focus.

“Good morning, Minnie 12!” She chirps. “Bright and early as always, huh?”

“Mmmmmm…” I groan, fighting the residual weakness of these baby muscles to tilt my head.

“You’re such a morning person, aren’t you?” She takes my chin and corrects my line of sight back to her, shining her awful little torch in my eyes. “Your pupils are perfect today. Great job!”

“Mm-” She hits my knee with her mallet and I aim a kick at her.

“Woah! Knees are great too, way better than usual. You’re killing it today!”

“Mickey.”My voice grates in my throat.

She sighs, shaking her head in amusement. “He’ll be out soon. He’s bigger than you, he takes longer to print.”

I gather my strength and feebly flop my hand out to point to the second printer across the room. I can hear it clicking and whirring, and I see him bumping and sliding out onto the gurney.

“Mickey.”

“Soon. I need to finish your tests.” She turns her back and goes fishing around in her pack for some fresh implement of torture.

As far as I’m concerned, if she won’t wheel me over I’ll just have to commando crawl. Though my body is too heavy to lift, I manage to prop myself on one elbow and swing one leg over the side. It hits the gurney leg with a resonant thunk.Dorothy gasps and scampers back over, owl eyes wide with incredulity.

“Woah, woah, woah!” She hauls my foot back up and pushes me down, rough enough that my head bumps on the table. “Fine, we’ll do it over there, jeez. This Minnie is so stubborn.”

I huff and try to arrange my half paralysed face into a look of deep loathing. The stupid nickname started as something sweet between Mickey and me. We were just friends then, Mickey Barnes and Clementine Young, but he always called me ‘Tiny.’ One day he let the nickname slip in the lab, and one scientist or other quipped that I wasn’t tiny, I was mini. Hur hur, just like Mickey and Minnie, the mascots of some millennia old company. Somehow it got to upper management and they thought it was funny enough to officially change my Expendable registration to “Minnie Prime.” I have never lived it down, and henceforth will forever be known by it. Just like the unofficial mantra of the folks who work for Disney Intergalactic Enterprises, ‘empires rise and fall, but The MouseTM remains.’

Mickey is nearly out. It’s just his feet that aren’t done yet. I want to reach for him, bury myself in him, touch him and breathe him. I know he will smell of printer gunk, but it’s still his DNA, his bacterial micro-biome that grows within the gooey chamber of the printer. Dorothy takes my temperature, my blood pressure, and a vial of my ‘blood,’ but I don’t care about any of that bullshit. My iron lung is peaceful, his eyes are closed and lips slightly parted, though he is not breathing yet.

Dorothy must notice my shivering, as she lays a heavy shock blanket over me, and another over Mickey.

“Dorothy,” I croak, floundering for words. “Can… you…?”

She sighs. After twelve print outs, she knows what I want without having to ask.

“It’s against protocol to leave new clones alone in the lab without performing a proper physical, you know that.” She loops her braid around her fingers, chewing her lip. “You have fifteen minutes alone with him, okay? Just buzz me in if anything happens.”

It takes some time for him to finish printing, and even longer for him to wake up. I watch his chest rise and fall and try to pace my breath with his. I reach for his hand, my limp fingers fumbling for a grip. He’s cold, but so am I, so it doesn’t really matter. Still, I shudder as my skin brushes against his. There is something vital about the first touch when one of us comes out of the printer. A grounding sensation, a spark that christens the new corpse with life and brings our identities into clarity. At my touch, his eyelids begin to flutter and his hand twitches in mine. I think he might be dreaming.

“Mickey.” I whisper. “I’m here.”

He moans softly in his sleep. I wonder where he might be right now. Which morsel of suffering is he trapped within? I hold on tighter and try, stupidly, to push my way into his dream to protect him. Control is not a thing I’ve possessed in twelve lifetimes, yet I have not felt so powerless as I do now, listening to those mousy whimpers, unable to reach him. I think of all we’ve been through, and how we saved each other every time, imagining my thoughts drifting in through his ears. I know it sounds impossible, but I swear with every new life I am thrust into, I seem to love him just a little bit more. I chalk it up to the printer. After all, we’re made of the same stuff, Mickey and me. Garbage, dead bodies, piss, and shit and vomit. All the unwanted things boiled up into pure bio-carbon. We’re almost like twins. When we die, we both end up in the same pot, so really there’s a bit of me in him, and him in me. I don’t know which of my clones had the most Mickey in her, but whichever it was, that was the best of me. My efforts to telepathically comfort him seem to have had an inexplicable effect; his brow smooths and he begins to stir beside me, bleary eyes blinking into his new life. He huffs softly, a tired smile forming the first expression of this fresh face.

“Morning, Tiny.” He mumbles.

“Hey, Mickey.” I squeeze his hand and he squeezes back.

For a moment, there is no need to do anything but look at each other. It doesn’t matter how many times I see it, I just can’t get over that face. That downtrodden expression and how it brightens just a little when he sees me, that glow of amazement that shows every single time I rest my attention on him, and the way he sets his jaw when he’s hellbent on protecting me. My suffering is nothing but an unfortunate sacrifice to every soul aboard this ship, but when Mickey lays his eyes on me, I feel as though the universe turns around us.

“I had this crazy dream.” He wriggles his feet. “You were there, and Timo and Nasha. They promoted me to be chef, right? You guys were like my food guinea pigs, sampling everything ahead of time. But everything I cooked turned into macaroons. Grey goo macaroons, mock turkey macaroons… They looked horrible, but everyone loved them so I kept winning employee of the month and eventually the kitchen filled up with plaques and medals and they started spilling out into the cafeteria. It was so weird.”

“Weird.” I agree. I have no idea how he is so coherent right out of the printer.

His eyes gloss up in a wistful sort of way. “One day, when we get our debts paid off, I’m gonna take you away from here. Somewhere warm. And I’m gonna make you macaroons with real sugar.”

I can’t speak around the lump in my throat, so I just squeeze his hand.

“Woah, Tiny.” He winces. “Crying already? You’ve only been alive five minutes.” He rolls onto his side and reaches to wipe away a tear, but he doesn’t have his dexterity down yet, so his floppy fingers just smear it down my cheek. “C’mon, you got your whole life ahead of you.”

I laugh my first laugh. It’s short and shallow, but it’s exercise for these new lungs. I wring my knuckles on my eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

He drags my hand to his lips and kisses each knuckle. “Don’t be sorry. That was a rough one, huh?”

It was a rough one. Understatement of the century. The scientists had been developing a new nerve gas, a real gnarly pesticide to combat the creeper problem. Once they were certain of its lethality, they tested it on Mickey and me to see the effect based on the weight of the victim subject. Being smaller and lighter than Mickey, I succumbed to it quicker than him, but I stuck it out for as long as I could, unwilling to leave him alone in his suffering. The process was excruciating. Searing pain, seizing muscles, shaking and twitching, suffocation, loss of voice, loss of expression, loss of everything except conscious thought. We held one another as we died, and as black specks began to encroach on my vision, Mickey’s face was the last thing I saw. He could not speak, but it seemed from his eyes he was saying ‘see you soon.’

“Did you hang on long after me?”

“No.” He shakes his head and kisses the pads of my fingers. “You know I can’t live without you.”

“Mm. Maybe we can do it again some time. Nice Valentine’s Day date, huh?”

“Sounds good to me.” I bury my hand in his hair, soft and clean. He whines softly as my nails graze his scalp. “Dorothy did a full physical on me before you woke up. They must be planning a big mission or something.”

“Oh, joy…” He sighs. “It might be fun, though.”

“Oh, sure. I can’t think of anything better.” I have to laugh. “I hope it’s just me this time, though. You die more than me. You deserve a break.”

“Hey, no… Tiny, no.” He shakes his head, trouble marring his face. “If they’d let me, I’d do it for you every time. Every time.”

I hold his shoulders and press a kiss to his eager lips, cursing the tear that falls down to land on his cheek.

“You know I’d do the same for you, don’t you Mick?”

“Yeah.” His thumb finds its place on my cheek. “But I don’t think I’ll every get why.”

“You too, Tiny.” He lifts his head and meets my lips again, mumbling soft words against them. “More than life.”

I kiss him again, and again, and again. Gentle things, like cats bumping noses.

"I love you, Mickey."

His hold on my waist tightens and suddenly I am melting into him, my clumsy newborn fingers digging into his hair and mouth eager to welcome his tongue.

“Woah, woah! I know you guys are hungry, but you aren’t supposed to eat eachother.” We burst apart, flushing crimson. “Who knew our clones would fall in love? If psychology wasn’t such a -ahem- pseudo-science, I’d say we should do a study on your relationship. Anyway, Mickey,” He’s panting and covering half his face with the shock blanket. “You’d better relax, I need to take your blood pressure.”

He freezes, eyes darting between me and her, then he ducks under the blanket completely and lets out a weak whimper. “Fuck off, Dorothy.”

[cantareincminor]

WIP Word Meme!

Rules: share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that starts with each letter of the word you've been given!

Thanks to @beannoss for tagging me, this is so cool! The word she gave was BOATY. (Fun fact, in one of my fics I had Yuri call Loid "Cheaty McCheaterface.")

B: from Ch. 3 of Before Forever, my spinoff of @unhappy-sometimes' magnificent fic After peace.

But tonight, he doesn’t reach that mission. He continues to swap masks seamlessly as if burning through a carton of cigarettes, standing still in the middle of a dark smoke-filled alley. Sirens blare and tires screech in the distance, steadily gaining volume as his enemies approach. He’s down to his last mask, and it tears. He raises his true face to see the oncoming figure through the fog. His enemies have gone silent under the lethal song of her blades, their golden edges flashing in the moonlight.   He has nothing to offer her when she approaches him, her figure wrapped in amorphous black, her beautiful face unmasked as it always is. His own masks lay tattered at his feet. He holds a single grenade in his hand. Drops to his knees before her and pulls the ring. She smiles like the sun as he slips it on her finger, and the world around them clears in deafening white.

O: from Ch. 9 of The Signal and the Smoke, my Handler x SSS Lieutenant fic.

Of course, the world was never perfect. And political leaders were all driven by ambition and self-interest to a large extent at the end of the day, even if much of their own ambition happened to align with the good of the nation. She would be lying to herself if she thought she was an exception.  After all, she had made her choice at the end of Lutece. She would not take her hand off the wheel. She would not abandon her ambition and potential, her life’s calling to safeguard the peace with every ounce of energy and brainpower she possessed, to pursue a small, private fantasy that would lead nowhere.  It was best to correct a miscalculation early, as she’d learned the hard way from the many wrong calls she’d made throughout her undercover career. One day she’d look back on this and feel nothing. 

A: from Ch. 18 of The Magical and the Mundane, a fic about Yor's first pregnancy (in the Orpheus universe).

A once in a lifetime event. The orbit of this comet would likely only intersect with her and Loid’s lives once. Even if they lived into their late eighties or early nineties, they probably wouldn’t have the eyesight or strength to go stargazing then. But Anya would be able to see it again. If she had children and grandchildren of her own, she might be able to stargaze together with them, and tell them about tonight, how she had sat on her uncle’s shoulders and marveled with childlike wonder at the vastness of the universe. Yor’s heart opened tenderly, fearfully, to the truth of their mortality. It was both frightening and freeing, like a climber braving a precipitous rock face without a harness, briefly allowing her focus to shift off of the next handhold as she turned around and beheld the sprawling landscape stretching as far as the eye could see. The sheer drop beneath her feet was an ever-present reality, one she knew intimately from all her years dancing on the fatal edge of combat and dealing in death. Death was always there, waiting, but so was life. And her life had never been fuller.

T: from Ch. 20 of 21 Eden Street. Usually Unso and I alternate chapters, but for this one she wrote half and I wrote the other half (which is excerpted below).

“Tell me, agent. Was I wrong to entrust you with this mission?” Yes, came the traitorous whisper within. “No, ma’am,” he said without flinching. “Are you certain? Because it appears that even a teenage boy is running circles around you right now.” “You weren’t wrong, ma’am.” “In that case, do you care to explain exactly why you and your mission partner were high yesterday?” Beside him, Franky shifted in his seat as if itching to answer, but wisely stayed silent as the question wasn’t directed at him. Handler continued to stare at Twilight alone. It was a trick question. The rookie undoubtedly would have given the wrong answer.

Y: from a new one-shot I'm slowly working on, called Unworthy Eyes.

You have a responsibility to care for this creature for its whole life. As he could have predicted, Anya soon lost her balance and tumbled from the dog’s back onto the grass. Yor flinched on instinct, arms half-outstretched as if to catch her even though she was too far away. Their daughter was fine. Laughing and rolling around on her back, making a face at the dog’s wet nose as it nuzzled her cheek. For a treacherous flicker of a second, the dividing wall between his mission and his cover grew transparent.  Who was he to give such a lecture? It was a foregone conclusion that he wouldn’t walk the talk. 

Tagging @unhappy-sometimes, @whateversawesome, @rlbbackup, @porcelainmaps, @miss---nothing, no pressure! New word is: CHLOE (hehe)

[whirligig-girl]

Commission for @pikablob of the steam locomotive Featherfoot from her Underrail fantasy setting (which can be found here)

Finally, on the nearest occupied track, close enough that she could hear some component within chunking back and forth with quiet mechanical regularity, was an engine painted in brilliant scarlet. Its boiler seemed to be in the dominant Freehold-style, with a tall funnel, two great domes, and exposed pipework, backing into a large cab topped with a little clerestory bump; but its wheels and mechanics were mostly hidden by heavy frame-plates, save for exposed cranks between the three driving axles.

Featherfoot is sapient, with a "Coal Heart" in her firebox which acts as the mind and main power source for the loco (though she still consumes coal). She is a one-off 4-6-0 Constitution-type built by E. Towan & Co. Jushi Works, using a boiler built by Cortopassi Locomotive Works.

More background and alternate image versions below the cut:

Featherfoot is based on a Illinois Central Railroad ten wheeler of the type that was involved in Casey Jones' infamous train collision, but below the frames it more resembles an outside-frame inside-cylinder Great Western Railway 4-4-0--a City or a Duke class. Its tender is based on a GNR tender similar to what the Stirling Single carried.

There are four holders for marker lamps or flags--three along the pilot beam and one on the smokebox, intended to be used with UK-style headcodes but with US-style marker lamps.

The livery is based on the fictionalized GWR Duke class seen in Assasin's Creed Syndicate.

Here's some WIP images: 1:25 PM to 2:37 PM

While waiting for the client to get back to me on some questions, I doodled this:

Eaurp Guz! What are you doing on a miniaturized fantasy train!? Ah who am I kidding this is super in-character for her.

After a break and a little back and forth with the client (moved and replaced the whistle, replaced the oil headlamp with an electric one, added a dynamo), I completed the sketch.

I also tweaked some of the proportions a little. Note that when I am doing a "sketch" commission as opposed to "clean line art" i usually clean the sketch up a little more than I did here.

I then moved on to line art, which also gave me a chance to get the proportions on the wheels and frames right. I also totally re-thought the appliances and piping visible on the boiler.

By 10:31, the line art was complete. It had taken about an hour and thirty minutes, i don't have an exact timestamp.

Various other details were also added here--rivets, brake pipe, detailed coupler, detailed air compressor, snifters, wheel spokes, cut levers, the two builder's plates.

Here's the loco with full color. This is more or less how I left the loco off at the end of last night, at around 11:30 PM.

This morning at about 10:30 AM, I started working on rendering--and at 12:30 PM I finished the drawing.

The rest of these alt. versions are not chronological, and were created by removing certain layers:

The engine, cold.

The engine, solid color (but finished).

Solid color, but brightened to look better in a white background.

Transparent version with and without full rendering, steam, and lights.

I was shocked to find that with the line art removed, it didn't look half bad. It does look way messier, but I really need to go and try to tackle a fully lineless drawing in this style some time.

[penvisions]

coffee and candor {one shot}

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Reader

Summary: Frankie picks you up for date number three and he's got it all planned out. Unfortunately, you're a little out of your depth with what he has in mind...

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: insecurities, frankie being excited and adorable gets it's own warning, competence kink, kissing, matching clothing, this is so fluffy and soft, um i think that's it tbh

A/N: while i'm still taking a short break from regular fic updates, this was a commission by the lovely @whocaresstillthelouvre. the prompt was 'nervous frankie x not outdoorsy! reader go on a hike early in their relationship'. i rather like how this turned out! i am still taking commissions even if i'm not working on wips at the moment. anything helps, please check out this post and this post to know more about what's goin' on in my lil corner. no pressure all all lovelies, i know things are tough for everyone! love y'll and hope the day is good to you ♡♡

ao3 link || navigation || main masterlist || ko-fi

Body tingling with anticipation, you wait on for the rumble of a truck engine to round the corner. You were nervous, this is only your third date with the man you had met by chance at a coffee shop. A mix up of to go cups and you found yourself placating a very tired and embarrassed Frankie Morales.

He had picked up your drink by mistake. But if you were honest, it was totally okay that you had to wait an extra few moments to get it remade before you blipped off to work, because it gave you the chance to chat with him and scrawl your phone number onto the cup that was supposed to be yours. His kind smile motivating you to be a little bolder than you normally would.

The truck does indeed rumble around the corner and within minutes you’re sat in the passenger seat with the radio playing low and cruising down the highway.

“So what did you plan for us today? The truck looks suspiciously empty.” You eyed the cooler sitting in the extended cab, lid propped open and empty. Then the simplistic backpack beside it, it was always in the foot space between the two front seats. Frankie had admitted to you that it helped to ground him to know he had essentials within reach at all times, just in case. You hadn’t pushed for more of an explanation, knowing he had faced more than a few situations he felt less than prepared for.

But the rite in the rain notebook with the matching pen he had in his pocket along with his wallet at all times told you he was good at preparing for anything within reason. The situations he faced out of his control had not been shared with you quite yet but you would be content if they weren’t, only wanting for him to tell you if he was comfortable enough to do so.

With pink tinged ears he turns to you with a lopsided smile.

“The pack has everything we need, don’t you worry your pretty little head.”

“Not worried, just curious.” Your tongue peeks out from between your teeth and you see the way his adam’s apple bobs in response. His eyes snap back to the road and you feel a giddy sense of satisfaction at having flustered him a bit. He’d been the perfect gentlemen, his large hands only skimming around your body to lead you through doors, a tentative palm on your thigh as you sit beside him. No kissing, at least not yet. You were hoping today would be the day.

“I figured we would get out of the city a bit, go on a hike. It’s a really short one, only a few miles. Not too bad of an elevation gain, cleared out of poison oak, leads to a view I really think you’ll like. It’s an easy looped hike, so I figured we’d have a bite to eat at the midpoint. I packed up some snacks too, plenty of water. Even got some bugs spray and sunscreen.”

He rambled on, excitement obvious as he detailed the plan for the day, his face lighting up in the most endearing way. He was totally in his element and you….you were not. When you didn’t quip back immediately, he loosened a curled fist from around the steering wheel and reached for your thigh.

“That okay?” He jostled you slightly, worry seeping into his voice.

“Oh, um, y-yes.” You tried to muster up a smile, but it paled in comparison to the one he had only moments ago.

“I knew I should’ve run the idea by you. You don’t seem as excited now,” His bottom lip was taken between his teeth, worrying the skin of it as he regarded your profile. The slight furrow to your brow, the way your hands were wound around the flaps of your open overshirt. You had picked out a tank top and shorts outfit, tossing on casual button up over it, not sure what he had planned initially.

The first date had been coffee: to make up for him stealing yours. He had been nervous, his energy spiking and waning as he admitted he didn’t do this often. Date. Get random phone numbers. Have a lot of free time. He was a dad, to a bouncy and energetic seven-year-old. Nothing to worry about on the baby momma front, she wasn’t a part of the picture. A story you didn’t push on either, just making it as comfortable as possible between you two for him to want to tell you.

The second date had been dinner, with him in an ironed outfit and you in a slinky dress. It had been so much fun, the excitement obvious as you both hoped for another chance to see each other.

And now, the third: a hike.

You did not hike. You didn’t do anything considered outdoorsy if you were being completely honest. You were a lazy, take the day off to look through thrift shops kind of person. A curl up on the couch with a cup of steaming coffee or a cocktail and a book kind of person.

“Hey,” He breathed, soft brown eyes watching the way you had closed up. “It’s okay. We don’t have to, I promise I won’t be mad.”

“You’re so excited, though.” You move a hand to tangle your fingers with is, hand still on your thigh. Your stomach flutters, his skin is calloused and warm.

“I get excited about spending time with you, hermosa. It doesn’t matter what we do.”

“I want to do the hike.” You insist, wanting him to go back to the enthusiastic way he had talked about his plans.

“Please don’t feel like you have-“

“I don’t feel like I have to, Frankie, I want to. Because you want to. Simple.” You squeeze his hand in yours, placating him along with a soft smile.

“Simple.” With a lopsided grin and a press of his lips to your knuckles, the tension eases.

Gravel crunched underneath the tired of the truck as Frankie maneuvers off the secluded highway. Tall trees and various shades of green surround you. You both sat and listened to the clinking of the engine cooling down, taking a moment to breathe in the pine and cedar.

“I, uh, got you something.” He huffed a little as he reached for the back and hauled it into his lap.

“You didn’t have to- oh my gosh!” It was a hat, a baseball cap just like the one atop his head. Dark navy blue, emblazoned with a ‘standard heating oil’ patch. Your stomach fluttered at the implication.

“To help keep the sun off your head and outta your eyes.” He plopped it atop your head, the stiff thing just barely resting over your hair. “We’ll have a lot of tree coverage, but better safe than sorry.”

“We’re matching.” You can’t help the teasing smile that took over your lips, heat blooming in your cheeks as you realized you would look like an official couple to any onlookers. Something you had thought about more and more as Frankie filled your thoughts and messages.

“Yeah, would you look at that.” A dimple in his right cheek had you reaching out to caress it, silently thanking him for his thoughtfulness. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted one like mine, but I’m really glad you like it.”

“I do like it! I like matching with you, Frankie.”

His smile was dazzling as he looked back at you over his shoulder. You perked up a little, not wanting him to see the way it was hard to catch your breath or the falter to your steps as your legs began to ache from the incline. The slight brush of the long grass and reaching limbs full of leaves tickled but you tried your best to ignore it, opting to focus on the broad set of shoulders carrying a backpack.

Another bout of time passed, allowing for sweat to dampen your brow and the small of your back. You had removed your overshirt, tying the long sleeves around your waist. The stray pieces of your hair that had escaped from your hat floated around your face as you puffed out a deep breath.

Frankie seemed to pick up the moderate pace he had been keeping, his boots thudding the ground as he turned to pivot from the path as it began to curve.

“Uh, the trail goes that way.” You pointed over your shoulder, having followed the man’s lead regardless.

“I know, got a map in the pack if it makes you feel better.” He tossed you a reassuring smile, over his own shoulder. His eyes alight underneath his cap.

You were about to respond when he took another step and suddenly the trees fell away from around you, leaving you stood on an overlook. Valley open and wide in front of you, the view took your already short breath away. Frankie looked from the view to gauge your reaction. And he broke out into a wide smile as he saw how much you were taken off guard by the beautiful view.

Removing is pack, he set it down and reached to turn you toward him.

“This last month or so has been so amazing. Getting to know you has been some of the best parts of my life, hermosa. I was worried dating again after so long and not even looking for it would’ve been another lesson learned but everything with you is just so….”

“Simple.” You allowed him to caress his hands over the small of your back, your own reaching for his shoulders. The bills of your matching hats bumped, easy laughter bubbling up from you both.

“Simple.” He agreed, tongue swiping out to wet his plush lips. His eyes flicked down to yours briefly and your heart fluttered as warmth blossomed in your chest. Pressing more into his space, your chest bumped his, giving him the nudge he needed to close the gap even more.

Out on that ridge where you never would’ve trekked to on your own, you shared your first of many kisses with the man who had taken you completely by surprise. His lips soft and pliant against yours, his warmth seeping into you much like the sun on your skin underneath the open sky. You were the one to lick into the seam of his mouth, something he readily allowed you to do. The slid of his tongue on yours like heaven.

Breaking away, Frankie peppered kisses over your face. Lips tasting the salt from your sweat but he didn’t seem to mind one bit. Turning side by side, he kept his hand around your waist and you mimicked him.

Maybe hiking wasn’t so bad.

dividers by the lovely @/cafekitsune

taglist: @tuquoquebrute @sawymredfox @jessthebaker @littlemisspascal

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Meet the Family 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: um I woke up to this in my head. Sorry.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You honk your horn as another driver slowly veers toward the line. You’re not letting them in. If they can’t weave in, then they aren’t fast enough to leave the slow lane. You sigh and gesture at them as kindly as you can in that instant. You have enough going on. 

Your phone starts to ring. Again. You tap the button on your steering wheel to answer. You would know who it is even without his custom ringtone. Your boss allows no space for breathing, even on a call. 

“How far out are you, pixie?” Lloyd asks as you growl and lean on the gas pedal. You hate driving on the highway, especially at night, and the sky is steadily dimming. 

“Close,” you assure him. “Next exit,” you flip your blinker on. 

“Thank god. You got everything?” 

Yeah, everything you forgot. You don’t give the dry retort aloud. You know better. Where your boss has no filter to be found, you find yourself often censoring yourself. As much for his ego as for others’. Arguing never gets you anywhere. 

“I believe so--” 

“You believe or you do?” He asks impatiently. 

“Mr. Hansen, I got everything on the list,” you assure him. “All with a bow on top.” 

“A life saver, pix, I swear,” he praises, but a compliment from him is rarely genuine, more transactional. You did him a favour so he’ll give you a treat. 

“Alright, I need to get over, ramp’s coming up. So--” 

“Yeah, yeah,” his ends rustles and you hear a muffled female voice, “I got shit going on too. You got the address, text me.” 

He hangs up first. You can never be the first to end the call. He has to make the decisions. You just know how to guide him to the right one. You merge into the exit lane and follow the ramp away from the whirring stream of headlight. Finally. 

You’re less than pleased to be within minutes of your destination. This isn’t how you envisioned your holiday. A last-minute itinerary change to fix yet another of Mr. Hansen’s oversights. It’s never a mistake, he’s just a man with so much going on that it slipped his radar. Another bandage for his ego. 

The slower pace feeds your agitation. At least on the highway, you felt like you were getting somewhere. The lazy roll of the cars in the town tweaks at the nape of your neck. You just want to be in one place and that won’t happen even when you get to Mr. Hansen. 

You’ll be lucky to have two hours of sleep before you have to catch your rebooked flight. Yep. You’ll play Santa and drop off your lot before hiding at the hotel long enough to dread the airport jungle. Then it’s off to your own familial obligations. Those are rarely enjoyable and being a day later than promised will hardly please your mother. 

Your phone announces your arrival at the destination. The long drive of the over-sized suburban mansion is full. You park on the street and turn on the interior light. You get out and open the back seat. The whole medley of shiny paper and quaffed bows stares back at you. 

You text Mr. Hansen and wait, huffing and puffing with impatience. Of course, you have to upheave your plans to meet his deadlines, but he’s taking his time. It’s not a surprise, not even a disappointment, you expected as much. 

“Pixieee,” Lloyd drags out the last syllable, “there you are, pretty pixie.” 

Pretty Pixie? He’s drunk or he’s going to ask for something else. You brace yourself as his shadow struts up the long driveway and passes beneath the cone cast by the tall street lights. Coloured lights glimmer over him from the eaves of the surrounding facades. 

“Mr. Hansen, wrapped, labelled, everything you requested,” you gesture to the backseat. 

“An angel. A true saviour, pixie,” he surprises you as he grabs your head, his palms pressing to your cheeks as he bends to kiss your forehead, “did I ever tell you you’re immaculate?” 

“Mr. Hansen,” you gently pull his wrists until he drops his hands. You smell the alcohol radiating off of him. 

“It’s the holiday, call me Lloyd, sweet cake,” he insists. 

“Right,” you tut and turn to drag out the largest gift bag, “here, you better just take all this, I have to check-in--” 

“About that,” he ignores the gift as you hold it out. “We’re just about to start dinner, you should pop in, have a bite.” 

“I can’t, Mr. Hansen--” 

“Of course you can,” he insists. You look up at him. His eyes gleam in the spectrum of lights shining from your car, the houses, and the tall poles. You sniff. He’s only tipsy, there’s still the hint of authoritarianism firmly implanted in his tone. “I told everyone you would.” 

“Everyone?” You echo anxiously. 

“The family,” he exclaims as if it should be obvious. 

“Okay, I can come say hello but--” you wiggle the bag at him. 

“Damn right you can,” he catches your hand and takes the bag. He drops it on the ground carelessly. 

“Mr. Hansen, that’s fragile,” you say. 

“Shhhh,” he grabs your hand and you curl and unfurl your fingers desperately, “Lloyd, remember?” He feels around in his pocket as he keeps you in his vice, “now, you just need to slip this on.” 

He struggles to line up the ring with your finger as you squirm in confusion. What is he doing? 

“Mr. Han--” 

“Lloyd,” he growls, all humour trickling away. He squeezes until you whimper. “Look, I just need you to smile and bat those long lashes of yours, alright?” 

“What’s going on?” 

“As far as anyone knows, I proposed to you on Thanksgiving,” he says. 

“Proposed?!” You nearly shriek. 

He hushes you again and finally rams the ring down to your knuckle. “Look, pixie, mommy’s being a real pain in my ass so you just need to play along.” 

“Mr.--” 

“If I have to tell you one more time--” 

“Lloyd,” you gulp, “please. I... this is... strange. What? Why? I have a flight in eight hours.” 

“Cancel it,” he sneers. “Double time and a half for holiday overtime. See the family in the New Year.” 

“What? That’s-- This is insane--” 

“This is your job, honey,” he clings to your hand. “To do what I say or you can spend your January trawling the job boards.” He squeezes until the band digs into your flesh. “Now, I know Mr. Walker thinks you’re darling and he offered you a role last year but once I tell him about your little defiance issue, I don’t think he’ll be interested--” 

“Huh?” 

“I know a lot more than you think,” he grits. “Alright? So let’s start getting this shit inside. That’ll give you a chance to get yourself together.” 

“Lloyd,” you gasp. “Why--” 

“No more fucking question. Since when did you get so uppity,” he barks. 

“Sir--” 

“Ah, none of that, either,” he lets you go and waggles his finger in your face. “Relax. Have some eggnog when we get inside and take the edge off.” 

“This can’t be happening,” you murmur. 

“It’s fucking happening, alright?” He picks up the bag off the ground. “I keep you around ‘cause you’re quick on your feet, Pix, so let’s get to it.” 

“Oh god,” you utter. 

“Keep it to yourself,” he warns. 

Your disbelief has you a bit dumb. You’re panicking. He knows you have an insurance policy with Walker and you have no doubt he’ll do all he can to spoil your future if you fuck around with his present. You’ve worked long enough for him to believe his threats, even when everything else is dubious. 

You turn and grab several gifts from the backseat. You move out of his way and he gathers some more himself. He backs up and uses his knee to close the door. He nods you toward the house. 

“Smile, act like you’re excited,” he commands. 

You pass him and stare up at the blaze of holiday lights. The lawn is decorated with a Santa and sleigh, complete with all his reindeer. You make the march up the walk and towards the glowing windows that trim the front door.  

Lloyd comes up next to you and kicks it, “open up.” 

It isn’t long before obedience appears from the other side. You do a double take at the man who answers the door. He looks a lot like Lloyd but not. He doesn’t sport the same bristly stache and his hair neatly combed, the sides unshaved but tidy. He rolls his eyes. 

“Was hoping you got lost in the snow,” the man scoffs. 

“Shut up,” Lloyd shoulders through, “always a fucking prick, Hugh.” 

The other man snarls, “don’t fucking call me that.” 

“Aw, I’m sorry, baby boy,” Lloyd puts the gifts on the bench against the wall, under the large mirror with an elaborate frame. “Why don’t you go suck on mommy’s teat?” 

“You’re disgusting,” the other man, Hugh, hisses. 

“Speak for yourself. We’re the OnlyFans thot? She not joining us?” 

“Oh, fuck you.” 

“Fuck you, fuck me, we already did this, remember?” Lloyd faces him. 

“And who’s this slut?” The man tosses you a sharp glare.  

“Woah, man, that’s my future wife,” Lloyd lies so easily it startles you. He sounds almost genuine and you’ve never heard him sound like that. “Not a slut, so keep your eyes and your hands to yourself.” 

“Huh, I didn’t believe it,” the man puts his hand on his hip as he looks you up and down, “she’s tiny.” 

You narrow your eyes, speechless as they talk about you like a new lamp. 

“Ransom,” Lloyd gestures to him derisively, “Pixie. Now you’ve met so you can skedaddle back to the liquor cabinet.” 

The man, Ransom, snickers, “good luck, sweetheart,” he scoffs. “If you need a drink, just look for me. You probably will. At least for the next forty years.” 

He struts off through the archway behind him and you look at Lloyd. He takes the armful of gifts from you and grumbles. He stops and crosses his arms.  

“Well, get your boots off. Mom will kill you if you’re tracking salt all over her freshly polished floors,” he shakes his head. “And a bit of advice, stay away from my cousin. Ransom’s a fucking pest.” 

“Right, sir.” 

He tilts his head and you show your palms, “Lloyd.” 

“Good girl,” he says and slips free of his loafers. “Now, you’re going to have to meet my parents before anyone else or I won’t hear the end of it. I’ve already got an earful. I know I shoulda booked that resort...” 

You unzip your boots and set them aside on the rack. You stand and he beckons you past the open archway and down the hallway. You take in the decor; gold on beige on ivory. It’s all very luxurious. 

He pushes through a white birch door and warmth enshrines you along with the smell of turkey. There’s a clattering beneath a shrill voice snapping out orders, “oh, not mashed, whipped!” 

A tall blonde woman crosses her arms as she hovers like a vulture over the aproned staff crowded around the large marble island. Lloyd grabs your hand and drags you after him. Your socks slip on the tile as dread coils up your limbs. 

“Mom, she’s here,” he announces as he gets close to her. 

“Ugh, about time, they already set the table and I was dreading the empty plate,” she slithers. She turns her chin down to see you, “Oh, look at her. She’s so... petite.” She levels her hand with the top of your head, “much different than I envisioned.” 

You look at Lloyd as he pushes his shoulders back. You’ve never heard anyone talk to him like that and you’ve never seen him so uptight. You turn your attention back to the woman. 

“Hello, Mrs. Hansen, it’s nice to meet you,” you offer your hand. 

She considers it then grabs it, turning the ring up. You examine the jewel as she does the same, your first glimpse at the thing. She harrumphs, “that’s the ring?” 

“Mom,” Lloyd utters. 

“Mm, very well. Dear, you may call me Gwenyth, not Mrs. Hansen,” she lets you go. “Now, dear son, out of my way. I’m trying to get dinner done.” 

Lloyd stares at her, almost expectantly, the takes your hand again and leads you away. He pulls you back through the door. You don’t dare say a word. He leads you away from the kitchen and the wall of voices buzzing from the front room. He guides you through the archway opposite and around to another door. 

He knocks and there’s a lull as you wait. He taps again. There’s coughing from the other side. “What do you want?” 

“Just me, Dad,” Lloyd answers. 

“Ugh, get in here then,” the timbre calls back. 

Lloyd twists the knob and urges you in ahead of him. The smell of cigar smoke blows in with the cold wind. A gray-haired man puffs by the window, his efforts to puff through the opening sabotaged by the wintry gusts. 

“Close the door. I don’t need the banshee sniffing me out,” he growls. 

“Sure,” Lloyd shuts the door. “Dad, uh, this is her. The woman I told you about. My fiance.” 

“Took you long enough,” the man sneers. You flinch and his grey eyes soften, “him, I mean. Forty-three years--” 

“Dad,” Lloyd rasps. 

“Well,” his father looks you over, “she’s young. Bit small...” 

You do your best not to let your annoyance show. So you’re a little shorter than average. 

“William,” he introduces himself, “and you are?” 

“Pixie,” Lloyd answers for you. 

“Didn’t ask you, boy,” William rebukes and keeps his eyes on you. “You smoke?” 

You mull his question and sigh, “never tried it but I guess it’s never too late to start.” 

William snorts, “truer words.” He puffs, “I don’t recommend it. Horrible habit.” He tamps out the stogie in a copper tray. “Well then, is the food ready, or did you just come to show me your woman?” 

Lloyd stiffens and touches your lower back, “guess I just came to do that.” He mutters, “come on, let’s go get something to drink.” He turns and opens the door. 

“Don’t let the smoke out,” William snips as you spin around. 

[welcometololaland]

10 things - 2024/2025 edition

happy new year, everyone! 2024 has been a year of change for me in so many different ways, and i've posted very little fic this year, mostly due to writers' block and time constraints. so, instead of doing the writing round up i thought i'd list 10 things i'm grateful for in 2024 (fandom edition) and 10 things i want to do in 2025 (also, fandom edition). please feel free to make your own if you wish! consider this an open tag 🏷️

2024 - things i'm grateful for (in fandom, in no particular order)

1. my ride or die friends who deal with my self doubt and breakdowns and (being 100% real) paranoia about situations that simply don't exist - @rmd-writes @celeritas2997 , the popcorn squad and others. wouldn't be writing without your support!

2. the writers who have trusted me to beta for them - @heartstringsduet @basilsunrise @rmd-writes i think i'm forgetting some (so sorry if so). michelle, being with you through first aid was such an amazing experience, and i feel so lucky to have seen you develop as a writer!

3. the people who have read my fics and encouraged me including the wip wednesday and seven sentence sunday tags! - i literally would not be anywhere without you. you actually give me life.

4. the friendships i've made on discord with people who just wanna know me for me and share little snippets of their lives - @reyesstrand and @heartstringsduet the little squirrel photos y'all send me are soul soothers for real! @st-elle-ar and @clottedcreamfudge and @lightningboltreader and @birdclowns for the cat pics! @howtosingit for your commentary and spoiler services 💜

5. the grace given to me by @carlos-in-glasses and @actual-sleeping-beauty - you two are so kind and encouraging and tell me all about your knitting projects even when i go missing for weeks on end. thank you for being my friends <3 and i don't even think you guys know you are both my yarn obsessed friends but you ARE.

6. everyone who has trusted me enough to collab with them on projects - the legends on never the same twice, @rmd-writes @strandnreyes. i loved working with you and i hope you had a positive experience! looking forward to more collabs in 2025.

7. the document gremlins, betas and sensitivity readers i've collected this year - @rmd-writes @strandnreyes @lightningboltreader @celeritas2997 @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut ty ty ty ty some of those fics were in danger of being lost forever but we revived them!

8. @she-walked-away for making me laugh with your hilarious posts and olympia2997 who apparently doesn't exist on tumblr but leaves the most unhinged comments of all time on my fics.

9. everyone who has translated my fics or made art or gifs this year! inspired by you and in awe of you! @donghaian @whatsintheboxmh @heartstringsduet @guardian-angle22 i know there are more i'm so sorry if i've not listed you here!!!

10. everyone in the various fandoms i'm in who have created brilliant works in 2024! i am inspired by your work more than you know <3

2025 - things i want to do (in fandom, in no particular order)

1. read more, and read more broadly. expand my horizons a bit. read things that are a touch outside my go-to zones just to test the waters. read stuff by new authors!

2. spend time co-writing because that's actually my favourite thing to do. i have some things in the pipeline with a couple of people which i hope work out!

3. finish. the. damn. fic. (eurotrip). IT'S SO FREAKING CLOSE.

4. spend more time with my 2019-2021 beloveds - alex and henry. write more rwrb fic. engage in the fandom a bit more.

5. finish the ring-in 2.0 within 1 month of the LS finale (weep).

6. take one hand off the wheel with fandom relationships - my therapist tells me i need to stop trying to control how everyone feels about me and instead let people show me the kind of friendship they're interested in maintaining. scary because i think i may lose some people along the way but OH WELL WE BALL.

7. worry less about the engagement! god! i need to stop looking so much! *shakes fist at self*

8. write a little more regularly with less word count expectations.

9. learn how to be okay with smaller comments (from myself). sometimes i feel terrible if i don't write a damn essay but sometimes it stops me from reading which is horrible!

10. be a better fandom contributor than i was in 2024 - i think continuous growth is important and i'm always open to feedback (as long as it's constructive and genuine)! my mission is to always make a positive contribution and to make people feel good about themselves, and if i can even do that for one person in 2025, i think i will achieve this goal.

ty for the 2024 wrapped tags @hippolotamus @rmd-writes @reyesstrand @emsprovisions @nancys-braids @carlos-in-glasses @lemonlyman-dotcom @alrightbuckaroo @strandnreyes @thisbuildinghasfeelings @whatsintheboxmh @heartstringsduet @firenati0n @cha-melodius. you are real ones! consider this a tag back if you would like to do a 2024/2025 10 things edition.

[sapphic-smau]

‧˚₊ ⊹ ‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹ ‧˚₊ ꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦‧₊˚⊹ ‧˚₊

|Pairings: Lucy Chen x Fem!reader; Tim Bradford x Lucy Chen x Fem!Reader platonic friendship. | Rating: M | TW: blood, gun violence, police work, violence, cussing, distress, death, hospital. | Word Count: 1.6K

✧ taglist ✧ Masterlist ✧ submission guidelines✧ WIPS ✧

A/N: request are still open and I’m working on completing a couple of request. Let me know what you want to see (;

| part 1 | part 2 | part 3 |

‧˚₊ ⊹ ‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹ ‧˚₊ ꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦‧₊˚⊹ ‧˚₊

Everything happened so fast, we were out of the diner within seconds, the blood curdling scream that came through the radio was a voice all of us knew too well… it was Jackson. Lopez and Harper jumped into their shop, Nolan and Juarez got in their shop together and Lucy got into my shop leaving Bradford to ride alone. Lights and sirens blaring, so many things were going through my mind, West was Lucy’s best friend and Lopez’s last rookie. Lucy pulled me out of my thoughts with one statement, “I want another baby. I know this isn’t the time bu,” I was swerving in and out of traffic trying to make it to the call the quickest, “Okay Luce we will have another baby, on one condition? We utilize our village more, I miss you.” She grabbed my hand and smiled, everyone was already on board and I knew that but in this moment the only thing I knew was that both of our daughters parents were going full speed ahead to an active shoot out.

Before we could get out of the shop, bullets hit our windshield, without thinking I turned the wheel to put myself between the bullets and my wife, I screamed at Lucy to get out of the shop and to stay down. I grabbed my radio, “7-Adam-13, we are under heavy gunfire out here, send SWAT.” Lucy was still behind the door firing as many rounds as she could, without thinking I unbuckled my seatbelt and climbed over the console out of the shop from the passenger door.

Lucy looked at me, “focus.” I peaked around her shoulder to see that Nolan and Juarez were also pinned down, Lopez and Harper were trying to cross over to have a better shot at the shooters. Fuck. “7-Adam-19, put me out on an 11-80 have Ambulences and Fire Rolling, we have a three car pile up, blocking lanes of traffic.”

Bradford came over the radio giving me a huge sigh of relief, I heard Lopez yell Jackson’s name. I laid flat on the ground to see between cars and bullets Officer Jackson West was laying and I all I could see was blood. I moved to the back part of my shop, to grab my rifle. I heard Lucy yelling back and forth with Nyla, I felt a sharp pain in my side but I kept Trying to ignore it. I reached down to feel a wet spot on the side of my vest, I knew what that meant, but Jackson needed medical attention fast.

Lopez came over the radio saying they did not have a shot, “7-Adam-13 to all units 97 on the call, keep firing and cover me.” Lucy turned her head and before anyone could answer I went around to the driver side of my shop and started shooting towards the roof the gun fire continued until I reached a car that put me in a clear line to see Jackson, I looked over towards Harper and Lopez who were still covering me, along with Nolan. I grabbed my rifle and continued to shoot as I moved up to the second car.

I screamed towards Jackson who was still laying flat on his back, I gasped as the pain got more intense in my side but I kept moving forward. “7-Adam-15 to 7-Adam-13 you are good to advance. We have your 6” I ran up to the last car as the fire fight continued, I put my rifle strap on my shoulder and reached out to grab Jackson’s arm, once I had a decent grip I was able

To move him behind the car, I assessed his injuries. “JACKSON DONT LET GO BUDDY IM HERE,” I ripped open his shirt looking at his vest and seeing the two chest wounds and one in the abdomen, “7-ADAM-13 GET ME A GODDAMN AMBULANCE RIGHT NOW. OFFICER DOWN. CRITICAL.” I cut off Jackson’s shirt to try to stop the bleeding by forcing pieces of his shirt into his wounds, and starting life saving measures. Suddenly the sound of gunfire stopped and the smell of gunpowder and blood covered my hands. “West! WEST STAY WITH ME, LOPEZ?! NOLAN! HARPER ONE OF YOU I DONT CARE HELP ME.”

I heard the ambulance, I looked over to see Lopez, Harper, Chen, Nolan, and Juarez running towards Jackson and I, Lopez took over trying to save him and Lucy grabbed me by the shoulders “are you hurt?! Why the hell did you do that!?” I looked down at my hands and grabbed Lucy’s hand and placed it on my side, when she pulled her hand back she realized I was also bleeding. “7-Adam-13 TWO OFFICERS DOWN.” Breathing got harder, things got darker, and waiting room by phoebe bridgers played in my head softly as I felt myself passing out. I could only hear the song playing softly and officers screaming around me.

*2 days later at St. Stephen’s Regional Hospital*

The sound of heart monitors and sterile smell indicated I was in the hospital, and it wasn’t a shitty dream. I looked over to see Lucy Sleeping on the chair next to the bed and I heard a light knock at the door. Our adopted Daughter Tamara was standing there holding our daughter Eleanor. They both walked in and I held up my finger over my mouth to have them stay quiet so they didn’t wake Lucy. Tamara and El hugged me by the neck and Tamara wiped away the tears that started falling. Harper and Lopez walked in and Angela said “You’re awake?”

Lucy jolted awake, “oh my god you are awake,” she started to cry and hugged me as tight as she could around my neck. Tamara and El made their way to the bed, “I’m glad you’re okay Y/n.” I looked at Lucy, “how is Jackson?” Lucy looked down and then away, “no… Luce… no…” as I started to cry my heart rate went up, Sending nurses running into the room, Bradford and Juarez ran in behind the nurses in their uniforms. I tried to grab the IV out of my hand, but was stopped by Lucy, I looked down to see a drain tube coming out of the side of my chest and my daughters closing their eyes, Juarez took both girls out of the room while the nurses assessed me.

Tim looked at me “He was DOA from the time you and Chen got there… there was no saving him.” I looked at Lucy “I’m sorry..” Lucy shook her head no, “we are just glad you are okay,” The rest of the team nodded, “so… desk duty? Really?” Everyone glared at me, “It sounds like a fun idea… yay desk work.” I turned and looked towards my daughters, no matter how old Tamara was when we adopted her. She is my daughter, I cleared my throat, “could you guys give me and Mar some time to talk?” Lucy and Tim looked at me knowing I only call her Mar when something is serious, the group stated they would go to the cafeteria and would give us time to talk; once the door closed Tamara broke down into tears.

“How could you run into a gun fight like that! What about me and El?! What about Lucy? WHAT ABOUT OUR FAMILY?” Tamara hadn’t called us by our names in a long time, it sucked all of the air out of my lungs. I patted the empty space next to me on the bed, she was hesitant, she didn’t trust easily. “Mar I wasn’t th-.” She shook her head and began crying harder, “Exactly you didn’t think, the city of LA might need you but I don’t want to lose another mom. Try to think of your daughters next time you run into a gun fight.” She walked towards the door, “Mar, Jackson was laying on the ground, your mom saw him, I was thinking of you guys. He was one of us.. I- I- did what I could to save him because I knew he would have done anything to save me and your mom too.” She turned and looked at me with her hand on the handle, “If you die because you run into gun fire to save someone and leave me here alone, after giving me so much support, love, and sense of belonging, I will never forgive you.” With that Tamara walked out, letting the door close behind her, leaving me with the words I will never forgive you running through my head.

I grabbed my phone and opened Instagram saw all of the other officers post for Jackson and Added one of my own.

Tag List:

[rcmclachlan]

WIP word game

Rules: you will be given a word. then you share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that starts with each letter of your word

Tagged by the awesome @setmeatopthepyre with the word BITE.

I've got two WIPs I'm actively working on, so here's two lines from each.

B: Burying the box takes maybe ten minutes, and by the time they finish tamping down the soil, Tommy looks lighter than he has in all the time Buck's known him. It's as if he's thrown off some invisible weight. When he drops his shovel and giddily sweeps Buck into his arms, the glow of his smile outshines the midday sun.

I: "It wasn't until that woman asked you to take her picture, or—it wasn't until you got up... that I knew for sure. I wasn't the bike. I wasn't even the training wheels. I was... the baseball card you stick in the spokes," Tommy murmurs, every word painfully deliberate like he's drunk and trying to pass himself off as sober; like he's speaking through a mouthful of molasses. "Something new and shiny, y'know? Until the other kids see it... and make you feel dumb for having it."

T: The reminders are few, but they never fail to put him back into that dark stretch of time when it felt as though every ounce of hope had been scooped out of him with a measuring spoon.

E: "E-Enjoy the silence while you can, I guess," Buck says instead of the hundred thousand other things he would be well within his rights to say. "Sullivan not talking for a while is a good thing, right?"

No pressure tags: @screamlet, @liminalmemories21, @geddyqueer, @epiphainie, @beanarie, and @firehose118. Your word is SNOW.

[zhalfirin]

Wheels within Wheels - Frank Lantz

My contribution as a binder for the Renegade Guild's Tiny Books Bang 2024 The idea is to split typesetter and bookbinder so I got the chance to bind 2 copies of this text. One for the wonderful @simply-sithel as the typesetter, one for myself.

materials used

case cover - binders board, 1,5 spine stiffener - cardboard leveling material - cardboard covering material - wallaby leather detail painted with acrylic paint) and goat leather cover decoration - hot tooled and partially painted with methylcellulose glue and gouache colours

inner book book body - Schleipen Fly 05, 115gsm endpapers - satogami paper (3 colours) endbands - button hole silk

format: 4,7 cm x 7,2 cm

(See WIP pictures here)

[zeeinkzquill]

THE AMAZING DIGITAL WORLD OF WONDER MASTERPOST

(a wip tadc au, some concept art in the post tho)

A virtual RPG-like world filled with mystical places, tricks, and traps around every corner. 

One-six humans remain in this world, hiding within the Fairytale forest, with the fallen AI Caine, to find a way to beat the final boss and find a way out of their digital prison.

♠️♥️Role Sets♦️♣️

When a human first spawns into the Digital Wonder they are assigned a symbol:

♥️ Hearts: Based in the Sweet Heart Kingdom.

♣️Clubs: Based in the Kingdom of Fairytales

♦️Dimonds: Based in the Kingdom of Playful Diamonds

♠️Spades: Based in the kingdom of Underground Spades

When a human is spawned they are assigned an Overworld Card consisting of 2 things:

The front holds basic fighting symbols that holds the player's basic fighting style and weapons. (This part of the card is usually held basic playing card symbols)

Examples: Ragatha is an ♥️Ace of Hearts♥️, giving her a mage like fighting style.

The back holds the player's ultimate move (which are based of the Major Arcenas of Tarot Cards). The move can be activated through battle when the player gangs enough hit points. When activated is can give the player player 

Example: Rag’s Ultum is the Temperance.

[Art of the Cards will be coming soon!]

♠️♦️CHOSE YOUR CHARACTER♥️♣️

<the character designs and bios may be updated over time ask I build the story and timeline of the world>

Name: Pomni

Class: Club

Overworld Card

Basic : The 7 of Clubs

Ultum: The Wheel of Fourtune

Bio:

Being the newest member of the human players, she overwhelmed to say the least. But panic attack aside, she has a lot to learn while trying her best to be useful the gang, learn her new powers, and so much more. It's going to be a wild ride!

Name: Ragatha

Class: Hearts

Overworld Card

Basic: The Ace of Hearts

Ultum: The Temperance

Bio: Loveing, caring Ragatha is the walking version of the class she was put in, all while trying the keep her composure under all of the havic the digital world (and some partners) may have to bring.

Name: Jax

Class: Spade

Overworld Card

Basic: The Jack of Spades

Ultum: The Hanged Man

Bio: Out of everyone in the gang, Jax is a criminal. Like literally a criminal. For however long he's been trapped he's found his way onto ever single wanted poster in Digital Wonder. (Which is the main reason he's with the gang, for cover.)

Name: Gangle

Class: Club

Overworld Card

Basic: Ace of Clubs

Ultum: The Sun

Bio:

Known as the lovable crybaby of the gang, Gangle is more than she seems behind that mask. Being the creative fighter and artist that she is force to be reckoned with

Name: Zooble

Class: Spade

Overworld Card:

Basic: Eight of Spades

Ultum: The Tower

Bio:

The tank of the group, Zooble has a heavy hitting attack and attitude. Tho they my look like a mess of shapes and colors, in a fight they do most of the damage.

Name:Kinger

Class: Diamond

Overlord Card:

Basic: King of Diamonds

Ultum: The Emperor 

Bio:

One of the two kings of the Playful Kingdom, Kinger is one of the most questionable rulers the kingdom. Though his ways maybe … weird, but he’s a fair king non the less.

a small author note

I will be trying to update this story every so often like twice a week. Again Have any question about the AU, my ask are open.