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a-spes · 5 days

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Hi I was rereading devious lies and I was thinking ab if nat and yn were to meet again and everything, yn would have the biggest trust issued ever. First her best friend took advantage of her and ruined her life, then the ones she considered family turned their backs on her without even letting her explain her side, and ofc how her lover shouted in her face that she's not welcome there anymore and how yn shouldn't even talk with her anymore ever. How the last time the team looked at her it was with anger and dissapointment That and also from the first part where she herself admitted to feeling like a stranger amongst her once friends and family.

Idk what you have in store for us for when you're feeling better and out of the writing block that you're currently experiencing, but I can't wait to read it. Take as long as you need, we're here!

˚ 　 ⋆ ⁺ ₊ ✦ ⁺ ₊ 　 ˚ 　. ˚ . 　 ☁ . 　　. 　 ˚ 　⁺ ₊ ⁺ ✦ 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖎𝖓 𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖘 ₊ . 　 ˚　. ✧ ⁺ ✦ ₊　　 ☁ ˚　 . ⁺ ₊ ✧ ˚　 . 　 ˚　 ⁺ ₊ ˚

₊ ⁺ ✦ ��　　 ☁ 　˚　 . 　⁺ ₊ ✧ ˚　　 . 　 ˚ ˚ 　. ☁ ˚ 　. ˚ 　 ✩ ₊ ˚ . ☾ ⋆ ⁺ ₊ ✧ 　　˚ ⁺

˚　 . ⤳ DEVIOUS LIES — Bonus part, 'the scars in our hearts' (6.280 words).

⋆ ⁺ ₊ ✧ ⤳ SUMMARY — Anon request — “ It has been years since the events, and when you eventually got the chance to go back with them, you thought everything would be the way it used to be. except it wasn't. three years, almost four, is a lot of time, and the people you used to know and the building you called your home do not feel the same anymore. Maybe you've been gone for too long to hope to find a place in their new life. ”

. ☁ ˚ ⤳ TAGS & WARNINGS — Natasha Romanoff x Reader, Avenger!Reader, Female!Reader, Other Avengers x Reader (brief mention of them). Bittersweet, (kind of) angst with comfort. Self-doubt, mental health issues, mention of bad coping mechanisms, toxic relations.

˚ . ⤳ MOODBOARD ⊱⋆⊰ MASTERLIST ⊱⋆⊰ TO SAY SOMETHING ✦ Part one. Part two. Part three. ⊱⋆⊰ the scars in our hearts.

˚ 　 ⋆ ⁺ ₊ ✦ ⁺ ₊ 　 ˚ 　. ˚ . 　 ☁ . 　　. 　 ˚ 　⁺ ⁺ ✦ ₊　　 ☁ ˚　 . ⁺ ₊ ✧ ˚　 . 　 ˚　 ⁺ ₊

You’ve been told that you just needed a bit of time to adjust, because you come a long way, but they didn’t say how long ‘a bit of time’ was. So the months passed, they soon became years, and if you’ve still made no progress, you kept hoping. Every day, you repeat yourself that you only need ‘a bit more of time’ and that, soon, with just a little extra effort, everything will eventually be fine.

Except that you’ve never been a patient person.

They made it sound easy. They made you believe that everything would go back to the way it used to be in weeks, and you’ve fallen for their sweet words because you were craving for them to be true. You have dreamed of that moment, and every day you’ve spent far from them was spent thinking about the day they would ask you to come back. It is a little fantasy you’ve been holding on to for the past few years, but the tears, hugs, and excuses you’ve spent hours to imagine never became a reality. No, you only got silent glances.

It has been almost three years since you came back, and it still wasn’t enough. Sometimes, you think about letting go of that dream of yours, the one that makes you believe that things could still get back to normal, even when nothing was —; but how could you do something like that? How could you possibly think about abandoning them again when they’ve been willing to give you a second chance? You weren’t ready yet to accept that the home you’ve been longing to return didn’t feel like it anymore, at least not without first trying your hardest to make things right. Thus you kept pushing yourself a bit more everyday, at the cost of your health — which seemed a very small price to pay in exchange for the feeling of being at home again.

Two years is not a lot of time in a human life but these years still felt like an eternity to you, and you’ve never been so aware of how long they have been as when you came back, realizing the gap that had opened up between you and the others. Your life has fallen apart that day, leaving you with such small pieces of yourself that you weren’t able to rebuild on your own —; but them? It is as if they’ve lost nothing. They’ve spent those two years building a life in which you’ve never existed, one that you are now supposed to find a place in. Every day is just a painful reminder of what you have lost, and will never get back despite your hopes. Your dream slipped away just when you touched it with your fingertips.

You have to accept that you are not a part of the system anymore, you are just the pebble that derails the machine, and that ruins everything —; but you should be used to it, shouldn’t you? To that feeling of shame and sorrow that your heart has been carrying for years, that feeling of failure and permanent disappointment.

Some nights, out of habit, you push the wrong door, and you find yourself in the room you used to share with Natasha. Once full of life, it had now become austere. Yet, there is something comforting about being in that room full of old memories, it is a bittersweet feeling that’s both like a heartbreak and a warm hug. You've never been much of a drinker, or at least you've always been careful enough not to get wasted. But you’ve made an exception tonight, because everything seemed to be too much, and you wouldn’t have survived the party if you hadn’t drowned everything in alcohol.

It is the way they kept laughing that got on your nerves, jealousy rising inside of you every time a new joke was told that you couldn’t understand “because you weren’t here” —; but Wanda wasn’t here either, and yet, she laughed along with them, why? Because she hasn’t lost her place with them, she is still a part of the family. They promised that they would tell their stories and explain their jokes later, because it was too long to do it now, but you were aware that it was just a lie to give you the impression that you weren’t on the sidelines.

It wasn’t very effective.

They spent the whole night telling stories that you couldn’t understand and sharing jokes you couldn’t laugh at, and while they remembered things that you didn’t have a chance to live by their side, giving you an overview of all the things you’ve missed, you were silently sitting on the couch, trying to ignore the knot in your throat. You didn’t even try to take part in the conversation —; what could you possibly have said anyway? You are not sure they would have wanted to hear about how miserable your life was when you were gone, how lonely and desperate you’ve been during these years. It would be an admission that you missed them, needed them.

Instead you kept your attention on the bottles of alcohol, at least they would never let you down —; that’s the advantage when the parties are organized by someone like Tony: you will never run out of booze. You were so uninvolved in what was going on around you, that you missed the worried glances that Natasha and Wanda shared, and they didn’t need to talk to understand each other, to know that they both had the same concerns.

Everyone does, but you’ve made it clear in your first few weeks back that you didn’t want their pity. There was no comfort in the way they looked at you and, quickly, their presence became too much. They were always there, never letting you completely alone despite the appearance and trying to meet your needs before you could even ask, pretending that they knew better than you do —; but they don’t. They have no idea of what you need, because how could they when you’re not even sure yourself?

The loneliness you’ve asked for isn’t more comforting, but at least it comes with familiar feelings, some that you’ve learned how to deal with the past few years. On the contrary, you still hadn’t gotten used to their presence, and you had no idea of how to deal with these contradictory feelings that were starting to grow inside of yourself. While a part of you wanted to lean in their embrace, the other rejected their overwhelming affection. A way of protecting yourself that won out, taking the form of uncontrolled anger and, after days of being yelled at and random objects being thrown at their faces, they’ve eventually got the hint that they should let you alone.

They’ve given up on you —; but that’s exactly what you wanted, isn’t it?

You can’t be sure, but you are trying to convince yourself that it is better that way. You’re not worth the trouble, and they definitely can’t spend all their energy trying to save you when people are actually dying outside. You would be fine, you would get through it —; right? Because that’s what you’ve always done, and there is no reason that this time would be any different —; you are strong, with or without them by your side. You just need a little bit of time for your scars to heal and then, everything will be back the way it used to be.

Except that, despite the appearances, those thoughts never really left your mind. Sometimes, you think about your return and what would have happened if they hadn’t found you that day —; maybe everything would have been easier. For you, sure, but also for them. You are not even sure they would have accepted your return if they had a choice —; you wouldn’t have. At least when you weren't there, there wasn't that constant tension that now reigned over the tower, one that followed you into every room you set foot in.

So you’ve made a decision —; you would rebuild yourself without them. You would make a new name for yourself, a new life, even if it means leaving them behind. There is this growing will deep inside you, the one that feeds off your anger and jealousy, and it’s the one to get your revenge. You want them to suffer as much as you have, to realize what they’ve done, and regret every of their actions. You want them to crawl back at your feet, begging for your forgiveness because you are tired of being the only one to make efforts.

You have waited so long for them to say or do the right thing, but the moment has never come because they can’t possibly understand your situation, let alone knowing what you really need to get better —; how could they when you ignore it too? Nothing feels right anymore. You have tried a lot of things but nothing works. Your life is now like a jigsaw puzzle whose pieces refuse to fit together. There is no way to make things go back the way they were, you could only keep on pretending.

And so you did, locking yourself into a routine. Each day you alternate between training, going on missions or attending meetings, leaving yourself little free time. This hectic schedule has the advantage of allowing you to avoid the presence of others and keeping you from thinking too much while making you more efficient —; it is perfect, isn’t it? It is, most of the time but, some days, the illusion falters, and the facade you’ve built shatters, revealing the truth you are trying to hide.

That’s how you found yourself stumbling into your old bedroom, the one that now smells of dust, desperate for some comfort and familiarity. You didn’t even make it to the bed, falling miserably asleep on the carpet —; you didn’t have the strength to get up when you tripped over your own feet, too drunk to take more than a few clumsy steps.

⊱ ★ ⊰

There is only one person in the team who is willing to give you the space you asked for without agreeing to give up on you yet —; and it is Natasha.

You may not notice it, but the woman has always been here for you since you came back to live with them. It must be said that her gestures are minute, almost imperceptible, but they always manage to draw a slight smile on your lips without you realizing it —; she was perfectly aware that if you knew it was from her, you would start hating on those little things that made your daily life at the tower a little sweeter.

She is the one who always accidentally cooks more food than she needed, making sure there was always a portion waiting for you in the fridge. She is the one who makes sure that your favorite cutlery is always clean. She is the one who buys your favorite flowers to put them in the common room’s vase and never lets them fester. She is the only one who has taken the time to make you feel at home with a bunch of details that are so insignificant that you’ve barely noticed them.

But at least it helped soothe the guilt her heart carried, because these actions are proof that she was fulfilling the promises she had made to you a long time ago, in the secrecy of the night, under a starry sky, whispered words that has been immediately blown away by the wind —; “I’ll always be there for you,” she had said. “Promise?” you’ve asked, your eyes full of hope. “Promise,” she had replied before your lips touched, sealing the contract.

One she broke years ago, when she dragged you out of the tower without letting you a chance to explain yourself. The woman is perfectly aware that flowers and some meals won’t be enough to earn your forgiveness, but she still made it her mission to look after you from afar —; because if she doesn’t, who would? You don’t let anyone get close to you, and the others haven’t looked any further, giving up at the first sign of trouble. She doesn’t blame you for not trusting her, or the other members of the team, she just wishes that you would accept at least one of their helping hands.

But you’ve rejected everyone.

Even Wanda, with whom you seemed, at one time, to be getting on well which had given the redhead hope. Those hopes had been shattered the day you violently pushed the witch away without any clear explanation, and the woman blames herself for that, for not knowing what to do in order to help you —; because she should know, right? That’s her role, the promise she had made years ago.

If she can’t, if no one can, what will you become?

You may be able to fool everyone, including yourself, into thinking that you are fine, but you won’t get her to fall for your little tricks. She knows the truth. She can see it in your fake smiles, she can read it in your tired eyes. She knows you by heart, she hasn’t forgotten those years spent by your side, and she has become a master at spotting your bad habits and the sublet signs that accompany them.

So, tonight, she couldn't have possibly missed how firm your grip has been on the bottles of alcohol, nor how quiet you've been the whole time. But it is only when she saw the door to your old bedroom ajar that she understood the extent of your pain. You were hitting rock bottom, you would have never set foot in this room full of memories otherwise. She knew this because she, too, avoided it like the plague, and hadn’t dared return in it since that day, not even to empty it. For five years, it had remained the same.

The woman is willing to give you the space you asked for as long as you are taking care of yourself, it is the silent promise she made, but it is obvious that you have failed to do so lately as she has seen you slowly falling back into your old habits. The ones she thought you had left behind, the ones she had helped you to overcome years ago. She is ready to accept that you could build a life without her, it is a cost worth paying if it’s the one to your happiness, but you haven’t built anything lately. Nor have you been happy, and she couldn’t bear anymore the sight of you destroying yourself, again.

The redhead is tired of the situation. She is annoyed that everyone is playing your games by pretending that everything is fine because it only encourages you down this dangerous path, one that may cost your life one day. She is angry with anyone who takes the easy way out, because it is obvious that it is easier to act as if all that history belonged to the past rather than acknowledge their mistakes.

At first, she had agreed to play along, but it was only because she thought that it was what you needed and that, when you were ready, you would talk to them. Except that it has been a bit more than two years, almost three, since they brought you back, and you still haven’t told a word about it. The woman didn’t know how long she would be able to put up with your silence on this story and your obvious discomfort.

But it seems that the sight of you asleep on the dusty carpet of the room you once shared was the last straw for the woman who decided to step in. You are probably going to hate her tomorrow, but she doesn’t care —; she is not even sure you could possibly hate her more than you already do. She would rather know that you are safe, even if it means losing you a little more so she decides to call your name multiple times.

It is the sound of her voice who wakes you up. It doesn’t matter how deeply asleep you were because you can’t ignore her when she practically screams out your name, and you are inevitably roused from your slumber. When you opened your eyes, a growl escaping your lips to signal your displeasure, all you could see was a blurred figure with red hair that could only belong to one person. One you could recognize anywhere.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked, a mixture of annoyance and concern tinged her voice, but you weren’t aware enough of your surroundings to notice it. Maybe if your hand hadn’t been so heavy on the alcohol, then you would have noticed the tone of her voice.

‘I am sleeping, can’t you see?’ you grumbled, but as soon as the words escaped your mouth, the frustration was replaced by a laugh —; this question was stupid, you realize. Isn’t she supposed to be a trained spy, and one of the best, too? Then why couldn’t she see what was right in front of her? Something that obvious?

Maybe she doesn’t know either because your question is followed by silence. Her only answer has been to sigh and pinch the bridge of her nose. It was going to be a long night, she already knew it, but wasn’t sure she had the energy to deal with that.

‘Come here,’ you said when the woman didn’t react. Your words were accompanied by the gesture of grabbing her arm in order to pull her toward you, the woman losing her balance because of the surprise.

Since she had found you, you had never asked for her presence. On the contrary, you had rejected and hated her. At best, you would tolerate her presence, but only when your job didn’t give you a choice, and so this sudden change in your behavior disconcerted her, especially the laugh that escaped your lips when she fell on top of you —; it is a sound that she has never thought she would hear again. So pure, so sincere.

‘Get up,’ she coldly says, not amused at all by your little games. If circumstances had been different, she probably would have found your attitude endearing and stayed a little longer in your arms. Except there was nothing healthy about this sudden closeness after months of hatred, so the woman immediately got up, inviting — ordering — you to do the same —; the sooner she puts you to bed, the sooner she can get back to hers.

Tonight, she had no patience. The woman was exhausted, and frustrated —; you weren’t the only one to suffer from the situation. She knows that your clinging state is just an illusion, the result of the alcohol you’ve ingested, and that the very next day you’re going to hate her again. If she wanted nothing more than to believe everything would be okay now, and to find comfort in your arms, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not when she knew she would lose it all again at sunrise. This scene is only a chimera, a reminder of what she had lost several years earlier as the result of her own actions.

If anything happens tonight, you would both regret it. Nothing can come from the actions of two tipsy and exhausted people. Except that your mind wasn’t clear enough to realize it, and all you could think about in that moment was how you were craving for Natasha’s attention. You wanted her to wrap her arms around you and whisper that everything will be fine now, because she is here. You wanted her to promise to never let you down, again. Even if it is a lie. Even if, one day, she will abandon you again —; because that’s what they all do despite the promises, isn’t it? At that moment, you didn’t care about the lies, you just wanted something to hold onto, just an ounce of comfort.

‘I caaaaaan’t,’ you whined, but you didn’t even try to do so. When you stretch out your arms towards the redhead, she gets the hint that you’re expecting her to help you, which she does. The woman knows how stubborn you can be so she grabs your hands and pulls you on your feet, sighing.

Except that you seem to find the idea of testing the limits of her kindness particularly amusing because you make no effort to pull yourself upright, or to stand on your feet —; or maybe you were just that wasted. You’re barely standing when you fall forward, leaving no choice to the woman who has to catch you before you hit the ground.

‘Got you,’ you whispered, a grin on your face, when you felt her arms around your waist.

The thought of dropping you crossed her mind, but all she did was to playfully roll her eyes. The woman should be annoyed by the situation —; right? But how could she when you are so adorable? It has been a long time since she last saw such a peaceful expression on your face. Your eyes were half closed, you looked as if you were about to fall asleep in her arms, and there was a faint smile on your lips. You seemed so content, nestled in her arms with your cheek pressed against her chest, that she hardly dared to move, fearing to break this well-deserved moment of peace. For a moment, it was as if nothing had happened, and the sorrow on your face had dissipated, giving way to a childlike insouciance —; a sight that made her heart melt.

You are the one who broke the silence first.

‘I’ve missed you..,’ you whispered. A confession so unexpected that the woman is not sure if she had understood your words. When her eyes looked down, searching for yours, you hadn’t moved, your eyes still closed. It was almost as if you hadn’t spoken, and that the words had been nothing more than a figment of her imagination.

‘Me too,’ she softly replied and, maybe, if you had opened your eyes at that moment, you would have noticed the tears that clouded hers — but you couldn’t do that, because you don’t want her to see the tears that you are trying to hold back, right? The one that would just run down your cheeks the moment you open your eyes.

‘Please, stay with me tonight,’ you asked —; no, you begged. You’ve lifted your head until your eyes finally meet hers, both were shining with the tears that threatened to fall —; you are the first one to give in.

The mere thought of Natasha leaving you was enough to shatter your last ramparts. You have just regained her embrace, you don’t want to be forced to leave her now, not after so many years of hoping to regain the comfort you thought you had lost forever. You have been too stubborn to admit that you needed help, and so you’ve spent years pushing everyone away, thinking that you didn’t deserve their affection. It has been so long that you can’t even remember the last time someone held you this way, with such delicacy and care.

It gave you hope. The one that, maybe, for at least one night, things could be the way they used to be —; just tonight, or even just a few hours. You just want that moment to last a little longer, you don’t want to spend another night alone in your bed, in your cold and austere bedroom with a depressing atmosphere. You want more than that, you want a reason to stay, a reason to try again, and to get up tomorrow —; you want Natasha back. You want your old life back.

Except that the woman won’t give in. It is not that she doesn’t want to, on the contrary, she shares the same wishes that you, but her mind is clear, and she knows that nothing good would come out of it —; you can’t get back to what you used to have. You can’t change the past, nor can you pretend it doesn’t exist.

‘I can’t..,’ she softly replied after a second of silence that marked her hesitation, ‘you know that baby, we both,’ she added, the nickname naturally escaping her lips when she noticed that more tears were threatening to fall from your eyes.

She wants to say yes, you can read it in her eyes, hear it in her silences —; then why doesn’t she say it? Why does she keep pushing you away when you are eventually ready for her to be back? Isn’t what she has wanted when she spent all those months begging you to accept her help? It is, but she didn’t want it that way, she didn’t want to take advantage of a moment of weakness on your part. She wanted to earn your forgiveness, to show you that you could trust her again, and if she had to work every day until she dies to achieve that goal, then she would do it.

‘Why not?’ you immediately asked back, ‘you are here, and so am I, and- and our bed is waiting for us,’ you started rambling. You couldn’t speak clearly, the words racing through your head as you tried to convince her, but you knew it was a losing battle. You were so desperate that your hands clung tightly to the fabric of her shirt, as if it could be enough to stop her from leaving. ‘Please,’ you begged once more when she didn’t react. At this point, your voice was nothing more than a broken whisper, ‘just for tonight, we could pre~’

‘Pretend that nothing has happened?’ she softly asked, finishing your sentence, and all you could do was nodding. ‘But you know we can’t do that baby,’ she said, hating the way you were looking at her with so much hope, as if you thought that one night in her arms could ease all your problems —; but it can’t. It won’t.

As she talks, one of her hands tucks a lock of your hair behind your ears. The touch is so gentle that you can resist, and lean into her embrace. The feeling of her hand caressing your head leaves too soon for your liking.

‘Sometimes, I wish that we could,’ you replied, ‘that I could either forget everything, or go back in time to make everything right,’ you confided in her, sharing your thoughts with someone for the first time.

The words have barely crossed the barrier of your lips that you crumble, because you realize that this wish will never come true. You can no longer hold back your tears, you can only hide your face in the hollow of her neck, hoping she won’t see those. Only, each of your sobs shakes your body so violently that anyone could understand your state in one glance. The woman doesn’t know what to do so she cautiously wraps her arms around you and cradles your body in an attempt to sooth your sobs —; it’s the least she can do.

‘You’ve done nothing wrong, love, nothing was your fault,’ she whispered, and you can hear that her voice is feverish —; she, too, is holding back tears. She can’t bear to see you like this. ‘I am sorry, so sorry,’ she added while she rocks you slowly. Those words weren’t for tonight, and how she had to refuse your proposal, but they were for everything that has happened since that day. Those excuses were for all the things she has done or said since but, most importantly, for all the things she didn’t have the courage to do and the ones she couldn’t.

⊱ ★ ⊰

The following morning, you’re woken up by Jarvis, his voice echoing through the room, terribly loud and impossible to ignore. A grunt escapes your lips, you were hoping for a few more hours of sleep —; or best, for an eternal slumber. The night before, like the rest of the team, you went to bed late, and the quantities of alcohol ingested are definitely not helping with your condition because you were the victim of a terrible headache. Only, it is impossible for you to ignore Jarvis’ voice. He has been calling your name over and over again for several minutes now, trying to get the attention you are trying to not give him —; but even with your hands covering your ears, his voice would pierces your eardrums.

‘You are not answering me, miss y/n,’ he stated the obvious, ‘do you want me to warn the others that you are sick? My sensors indicate tha~’

‘Please, Jarvis, shut up,’ you mumble, still managing to be polite despite the rising frustration, and you really hope it will be enough for him to leave you alone —; but anyone who knows the AI knows that these hopes are in vain.

Nonetheless, you have to admit that he is right about one thing: you are not feeling so good —; but who would after attending one of Stark’s parties? He always says that if your head is not sore and your throat is not burning the next day, then you haven’t enjoyed yourself enough. Surely you have enjoyed enough to last a lifetime, although you are not naive enough to swear to never touch a bottle again in your life. Yet, you’ve thought of it for an instant, the lingering nausea making you regret your actions because it gave you the unpleasant feeling that you might throw up at any time.

God, you were weak. So weak that everything was feeling too much right now, even the faint sunlight making its way into your room —; it makes you want to bury yourself alive to avoid all these sensations, and to die. Except you can’t because you have a mission that is scheduled for today and, if you don’t show up soon, they will come looking for you, which is the last thing you want. You have spent weeks preparing for that, you definitely can’t let them down now, especially not because you are just too stupid to know your limits.

You have abandoned them once, you won’t make the same mistake a second time. They won’t be so forgiving this time, no one forgives someone who does the same mistake twice —; no one gives a second chance to traitors. It has been several years since you came back, but you still feel like you are on probation and you need to prove to them that they can count on you. You can sense their hesitation to trust you, even though they insist that everything is fine —; pretending that everything is the way it used to be. It is their new favorite game, but you hate it. Y

et, you don’t have much choice but to play by their rules.

‘Are you sure? Becaus~’

‘I said, shut. the. fuck. UP!’ you yelled, not giving him to finish his sentence, already reaching the limits of your patience, ‘what’s so difficult to understand in those two words?’ you growled in frustration, and you can’t help but throw a pillow at the walls. The gesture is useless because it doesn’t even manage to ease the tension you feel, nor does it convince Jarvis that he needs to stop talking because he starts lecturing you about your actions.

Actually, the only way you have found to shut him up was to get up and join the others for breakfast. Fortunately, only Tony and Steve were there. They are the ones you are going on mission with today, and that’s what they were talking about before you entered the room. Even though you would rather stay alone, talking about missions is something you can do with little effort because it is easy. You need your brain, but you can turn off your emotions. You do not have to worry about saying the wrong thing or how to avoid an uncomfortable silence. It is familiar, and comforting. It has been a while since you've been sitting at this table talking about something else —; when you are not talking about work, you stay silent. It seems that you have forgotten how to interact with them during those years.

As they go through the details of the mission one last time, you are playing with your breakfast, not interested in the oat flakes floating in your milk, nor in their voices that forms a dull hum in the background, their words not even reaching your ears —; because you are thinking, your eyebrows furrowed with worry. Except that your state isn’t caused by the reasons they think it is, neither the alcohol nor the mission are in your mind, only a certain spy with whom you shared a moment last night. One you would rather forget because the simple thought of the thing you have said, and done, is enough to fill you with rage and embarrassment.

‘Hi to the moon, here the earth,’ Tony said, snapping his fingers in front of your face to get your attention, ‘were you even listening to us?’ he sighed, but you don’t notice any annoyance in his voice. Only a sickening worry that you can read in his eyes, a feeling that he doesn’t share and doesn’t hide very well. You hate it, when they look at you that way, as if you could break at any moment, as if they needed to be careful —; but you can take it. You can take everything, and you definitely do not need their permanent protection.

‘No, sorry, I was lost in my thoughts,’ you admitted, giving him a smile that I hoped to be convincing enough to reassure him.

‘Do not worry, everything is going to be fine, okay? We will be here to make sure of that,’ Steve intervened, trying to reassure you about what he thought was the cause of your worries, but his tone didn’t feel comforting to you. If anything, it made you grit your teeth and clench your hand harder around your spoon, increasing your irritation. You don’t really know why, but Steve has been the hardest to get along with since you have come back, maybe it is because of his seemingly false sympathy.

‘Thank you,’ you managed to mumble, even though you don’t really mean it —; it was still better than the snide comment that made its way in your mind. You even made the effort to smile, one that anyone could see as fake, but not Steve, because he never really pays attention to the others.

The words burn on the tip of your tongue, and you have to bite it to not shout out to him what you are really thinking. You want nothing more than to tell him that you are as capable as anyone around this table. You have proven yourself over the last few months, succeeding in every mission they have given you, what more do you need to do for them to have faith in your abilities again? Reach for the moon? Because you are ready to do it if that’s the price to pay. You are desperate enough to do anything they would ask.

In reality, you are not worried at all about the upcoming mission because that is not a possibility. You don’t fail, ever, and if you need to give pieces of yourself and mind in order to complete a mission, then you are ready to do it without flinching.

No, your thoughts were occupied by something else —; or someone else. Something that was more difficult to manage because there is no guide to follow. This person is Natasha, and the cause of your worries is the moment you shared last night because you have no explanation for what happened —; you thought she hated you, and that you hated her. Aren’t you both supposed to despise each other for the pain you’ve caused? Then why do some of you still yearn for her presence? Why didn’t she reject you and, instead, decided to take care of your mess? This even wasn’t meant to be. The redhead is the last person that should have witnessed you in such a vulnerable state, and yet she is the one you have sought attention from, the only one you needed last night —; and you hate that. You hate how your feelings are still the same even after so many years.

That is exactly why, the second the woman that is haunting your thoughts stepped in the room, you left it, pretending that you needed to get ready for the mission. There is no way that the way you walked out of the room, leaving your untouched breakfast behind you, didn’t bring questions to their minds but you were long gone before any of them could say something.

˚ 　 ⋆ ⁺ ₊ ✦ ⁺ ₊ 　 ˚ 　. ˚ . 　 ☁ . 　　. 　 ˚ 　⁺ ⁺ ✦ ₊　　 ☁ ˚　 . ⁺ ₊ ✧ ˚　 . 　 ˚　 ⁺ ₊

˚ . ⤳ MOODBOARD ⊱⋆⊰ MASTERLIST ⊱⋆⊰ TO SAY SOMETHING ✦ Part one. Part two. Part three. ⊱⋆⊰ the scars in our hearts.

. ☁ ˚ ⤳ TAG LIST — @cd-4848, @chocolatestrawberrykryptonite, @escapereality4music, @fxckmiup, @gemz5, @jusnough, @m0nsterqzzz, @marvelwomenarehot0, @mrsrushman, @riyaexee, @takeyaki, @taliiiaasteria.

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averys-nightmare-zone · 14 days

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since landing is closing down soon, i decided to take a quick break from SUPERSTRUCTURE (although i will be back don't you worry two fans) and made some fashion moodboards for the 14 fears from the magnus archives to accompany this post there will be some notes and insight on each collage under the cut.

the buried: the buried was really underutilized in the podcast imo. some of my favorite episodes revolved around the buried like lost john's cave and we all ignore the pit. i really hope this did it justice since jonny sims did not.

the corruption: oh my god this one was so hard to make. my google search history is full of terms like "bug infested dress", "moldy clothing" and "yucky fashion" the corruption girlies really seemed to like my last post so i felt obligated to get it right. i think i did okay.

the dark: making a black on black collage look decent is really hard 😭 I was originally going to go victorian for this one but ended up doing nu goth instead since I thought victorian fit a lot better with the end.

the desolation: this is one of my favorites. there's somthing so satisfying about combining ashy greys and black with orange it just tickles my brain. other than that, i don't really have any notes

the end: as mentioned earlier, i went with victorian mourning wear for the end. i mean queen victoria herself was in mourning and only wore black for forty years. that era is so synonymous with death it only felt fair to work its customs and fashion into my end board.

the eye: eye avatars are legally required to wear academic fashion. it just comes with the job description. i don't make the rules. have fun being jonathan sims

the flesh: this one really took me down a rabbit hole. first:, i could only find those anti-vegan shirts that your unemployed uncle wears to the family barbecue and then i came across this fashion designer and spent like an hour on her shop trying to figure out how she got her clothes to look like that. after that it took me another two hours to find all of the accessories. pinterest has been both my best friend and worst enemy over the course of this project.

the hunt: i am so sorry the supernatural gas leakage returned to my home when i made this and I age regressed into being 15 again. when i was making this i pictured it more as the trevor and julia flavor of the hunt instead of say, daisy. god breast america.

the lonely: this one was pretty easy to make once i got a handle on the color scheme. the aesthetic of the lonely has always striken me as a romanticization of the melancholy. think wanderer above the sea of fog. So i gave this one all the things i would romantasize about my life at my loneliest, which is why there's a teacup and a heart locket. the book was also a part of that, but it also doubles as a recreation of a leitner by theponderingalpaca on reddit.

the slaughter: yeah yeah i know the slaughter is supposed to be about war as well as murder, but forgive me for not making a fashion collage about military uniforms. that's really boring. i had just watched woodstock '99 before i made this though and decided to go more for that angry punk/metalhead fashion that korn was wearing in that concert. them and limp biskit are the closest we'll ever get to irl grifters bone.

the spiral: i made this moodboard twice. i know its crazy that the fear meant to represent insanity is hard to pin down, but i think i did it better the second time around. the first one read too much as regular kidcore/decora for my taste.

the stranger: i had to do this one last. i could not for the life of me figure out how to make a circus/uncanny fashion board without just doing clown fashion. i'm still not entirely sure how i feel about how it turned out, but at least the masks are cool.

the vast: vast avatars rise up!! this is a mike crew fan blog and i only wanted to base the fashion around him. he's in the top three list of guys i'm autistic about with elliott stardew valley and daniel powell from archive 81.

the web: not much to say here except if you are a web avatar you have to wear a cunty dress. it is simply non negotiable

thank you to @artmadval for giving me the idea to do this with your amazing fashion archives art, along with everyone else who went through all my yapping to get here. love yall!

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iambutmortal · 9 months

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This Is the Part You Get Left Behind

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

Pairing: Elucien

Word Count: 2.5k

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

Read on AO3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Revealing a very shirtless, very confused looking Lucien Vanserra.

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

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

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

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

“Is Graysen here?” she squeaked out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Elain took it gratefully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It would be cheating,” Elain protested weakly.

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

“What would my sisters think?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You have?”

“Since we shared that bio class freshman year.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Another.”

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

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

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

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

The sound of the door opening made her freeze.

“What the fuck,” yelled Graysen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything else to add?” Elain asked innocently.

Graysen just stared.

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

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

“Did you see his face?” she gasped.

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

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

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

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

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

“Unless you maybe wanted to get coffee tomorrow?”

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

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

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

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

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

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the-iceni-bitch · 2 years

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You Know I Don’t Mind

Kinkmas Day 13: Aftercare

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

Words: 1.5k

Summary: Ari just loves taking care of you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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neonpixel-pixie · 5 months

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🖤 Love letter for Vito Scaletta 🖤

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

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

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

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moodymelanist · 1 year

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Up All Night (I Won't Quit)

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

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

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

Word Count: 3.3k

Read on AO3 here!

⚢⚢⚢⚢⚢ Emerie

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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monster-cock69 · 2 years

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little angel

Moodboard made by me and AO3 link here

Pairings: Peter Parker x Tony Stark

Pairings: Tony Stark x Peter Parker

Tags: Omegaverse, age play

Warnings: Underaged sex

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’d only gotten a stomach ache once but–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was like heaven.

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

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sarasa-cat · 11 months

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NoNaNo Day 7

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

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

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

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

The upshot is: I'm not writing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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eddiebillysteve · 2 years

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cat and mouse

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

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

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

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

moodboard by @a-redharlequin !!

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But even Jason wanted nothing to do with him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not you, 32566.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Creel’s eyes narrowed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

“A bad situation?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe no sweets? For today?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” Steve mumbled.

“Yes, what?”

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

“Good boy. Now strip.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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vdragoncatgirl · 2 years

Text

Winter’s Dragonfire

chapter 2 - the audience

the hound/sandor clegane x targaryen female oc

roughly follows canon timeline (tv)

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

words: 5301

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

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

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

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

— Why am I here? — she finally asked.

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

— What audience?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

— Bring her here.

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

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

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

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

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

— So your father was a Targaryen man then?

— No Your Grace, my adoptive father.

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

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

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

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

Upon hearing this, grand maester Pycelle gasped and intervened:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

— Ser Merryn. — said the queen behind her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The man turned his back to her and walked away.

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

— Who is there?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The girl raised her eyes to Varys again.

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

— It is, my dear.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

— Come, dragon girl.

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

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

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

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

— A bloody shame.

— Thank you for sending someone in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

— Thank you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The girl stopped the cup before it reached her mouth.

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

— How so? — he asked, intrigued.

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

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

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

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

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

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

— Why, lord Tyrion?

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

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

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

— That’s awful — she gasped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rhaenys' heart started to race.

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

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

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

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

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

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

— What? — she furrowed her brows.

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

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

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

— That will be it for today, Rhaenys.

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

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

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

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mx-werebat · 5 months

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Yayyyy!!! Fren <3

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

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

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

I still love it though.

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

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

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

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

#txt #askbox

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c-mccormick-svad-2022-2025 · 7 months

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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pumpkincentaur · 5 years

Photo

WIP Introduction: How to Break a Deadly Curse

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

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

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

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

Genre: ya/na urban fantasy

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

Status: second draft in progress

Current Word Count: 18,000

Tags: #htdbc, #maybridge

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

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

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a-redharlequin · 2 years

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Moodboard Commissions

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

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

What is a Moodboard?

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

What can I use my Moodboard for?

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

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

What can I request?

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

I found some cool art, can we use that?

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

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

Faceclaims, Aesthetics, and References

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

That all sounds fun! How much?

Simple: $6-$12

Large: $12-$25

Set of 3: $25 or $35

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

Details:

Simple moodboards

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

Large moodboards

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

Set of 3:

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

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

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

Why do Gifs cost extra?

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

Payment

Payments will be accepted through PayPal once commission is completed.

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

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

Commissions Are Open!

Slots 1, 2, and 3 are currently open.

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

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live-the-fangirl-life · 2 years

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Anywhere, Everywhere

A World Away Part 9

Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn - World Travelers AU

Travel Tip #94: Get lost on purpose

Part 8 | Fic Masterlist | MoodBoard | Read on Ao3

Warnings: Language

7675 words

*******

AUSTRALIA

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

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

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

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

“Maybe I didn’t want to get in.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Some days it all felt like it went so fast.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They're not fluffy.”

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

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

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

***

TURKEY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She was laughing before he finished the line.

***

SINGAPORE

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her flat stare made him smirk harder.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

BRAZIL

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your mom’s book—”

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

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

“Yeah, we eloped—”

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

“Can I finish a sent—”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Signed the paperwork.”

“And said our I do’s.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lysandra snorted but Aedion just rolled his eyes.

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

“To love,” Lysandra added.

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

“To family,” her cousin finished.

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

***

FRANCE

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

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

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

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

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

“Rowan?”

“Hmm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

INDIA

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

SCOTLAND

“Try it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, when—wait, what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aye.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you, Mo chridhe.”

***

MYANMAR

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

ZAMBIA

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

*****

Part 10

***

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

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