#rough drafts for two out of the four have been turned in but they both still need some revision

[astriiformes]

I have genuinely liked all my classes this spring, and they've generally played to my strengths as a student (good at writing) but I have to say. Having four decent-length term papers due at the end of the semester is seriously killing my will to, like, exist

[mcu-coworkers]

Enough for you

Summary: You realized that maybe Miguel isn't who you thought he was.

Word count:1k+

warnings: Sad reader, Sad Miguel:(

Tag list: @ahopelessromanticwritersworld  @munixumai  @deputy-videogamer  @blueberry-thrawn  @neteyamsluvts  @um-well @stinygirl009​  @marcswife21 @maladaptivedaydreamingbum​  @juleshadalittlelamb​  @taygrls​  @tanchosanke​  @chuckle-nuts​

A/n: Hello everyone and welcome to part two of “you?” I will most positively be making a part three coming very soon! Thank you all for reading! (I listened to the sour album while writing this series rough drafts)

Parts: One  Two^ Three Four

Credits to the creator^

That night you cried yourself to sleep.

Partially because Miguel completely shot you down and partially because you left your friends and suit forever.

You couldn't bear to bring back the suit or go back to HQ knowing what you knew.

You could never face Miguel or any spider again.

You wanted to so desperately let it all go and forget.

But above all else there was a city that needed you and you’d always be there for them no matter what heartbreak comes your way.

In this moment, you wished you were as heartless as miguel.

Back at HQ Miguel was looking through endless security footage on all possible earths miles could have been on.

Truth was he needed a second pair of eyes.

“Lyla.” he barked out.

“Yes, boss.” she responded, appearing on his shoulder.

“Call y/n.” he said, pausing the footage to rub his eyes.

He could take advantage of this time to apologize.

“No can do.” she replied being short with him. To be fully honest Lyla had also had enough of his shit.

“What? Lyla it wasn't a question go get me Y/n. Now.” he said, not having the energy to deal with her jokes.

“No. Miguel, you don’t-” she tried again but he cut her off.

“Fine.  I  ‘ll go get her my fucking self.” he said swinging towards the door.

“She's gone, Miguel. And it's all your fault.” Lyla said behind him.

He froze,“What?” finding your watch and your suit he stopped thinking.

“She quit. Not just the spider society, she quit being a spider entirely. Because of what you said.” Lyla finished.

“ I   didnt-  I   didnt mean it..” he said, clutching your suit in his hand.

“Well you said it anyway and it hurt her.” She responded, “And if  I   were her  I‘d probably never come back too, she deserved better Miguel. Why did you lie?” she asked confused as to why he denied himself the chance of love.

“ I   was angry  I   wasn’t thinking straight.  I  didn’t mean it.” he said barely above a whisper.

“Yeah well you sold it as far as keeping up an act goes.” she said, sighing.

Miguel could always fix his mistakes. This would be a first.

Sighing he stood straight and turned back to his desk.

Miguel had a decision to make, you or the fate of the multiverse.

It's like he said, there's no room for that kind of stuff for guys like him.

Once again he was right.

“Get Ben and Jess in here and have them start with earth 42.” he said, sounding more defeated than ever.

Still, he was clutching your suit as if you were still in it. Your scent lingering.

“Yes, boss.” was all Lyla could muster up at the moment.

Her artificial heart was breaking for the both of you. He was so close to telling you she could feel it.

It just wasn't his strongest moment.

Neither was this one as he took out his anger on the poor monitor that happened to be in his way.

Back at home you laid in bed trying to find the motivation to get back up but the truth was you didn't want to.

Everytime you tried to create a new suit you just heard Miguel's abusive words like it was the first time all over again.

And it just made you want to hide under the blankets forever.

Your spidey senses went off and then there came the portal.

You knew it wasn't Miguel, he could never.

“Hey webby? You alright in there?” you heard.

Peter.

Taking the covers off you came face to face with an exhausted Peter and a sleeping May Day.

“Heard what happened at HQ  just wanted to check in if that's okay.” he added wondering if he could take a step closer.

“ I   really screwed it up this time pete.” you said wiping the tears away for the millionth time.

God you felt pathetic.

“No way kid, that was all him. You know that right.” he said sitting next to you.

“ I   should’ve been there. But even if  I   was, I don't know if  I‘d be on his side. Miles is just a kid, We’ve all been there right?” you asked. Thinking this way makes you feel guilty.

You should stand behind Miguel at all times.

But now what did it matter you’d never step foot in HQ ever again anyways.

“You're allowed to think whatever you want. He can't take that from you.” Peter reassured me.

He was right.

“You think you’ll ever come back?” he asked, he almost entirely knew the answer but he still held out hope for you.

“ I   don't think so Pete,  I‘m sorry.” you said looking down in shame.

The reality was you could never face him again.

“Don’t be  I   wouldn't stand for that either  I  ‘m pretty sure a lot of us are done for too anyways but listen, you’re never going to be alone.” he said putting a hand on your shoulder.

“If you ever decide to come back not just as spider woman, but to the society, just know you have people in your corner.” he said, giving you a warm smile.

“Thanks pete.” you said as he stood opening a portal.

“Hey pete?” you called out.

Turning back to you he waited for you to continue.

“Don’t ever stop sending me Pictures of May Day. I need my daily serotonin boost.” you said with a soft smile earning yourself a chuckle in return.

“Never kid.” he said as he walked his way into the portal.

A soon as he was gone you went back under the covers and took a deep breath.

Peeking your head out from under the cover you looked at the picture you had framed on your wall.

It was of you receiving the key to the city.

Your city, the one you saved day and night.

Whenever it called for you.

You earned that key the same way you earned the title of spider-woman.

And you weren’t gonna let some words take that from you.

Wiping the fresh tears away you got out of bed putting Miguel's words in the back of your head and got to designing.

You were bigger than his words and you’d prove it.

In that moment you promised you’d make him regret ever  making you feel like you’re not good enough.

One day he’s gonna feel sorry for himself.

And one day you’ll be everything to somebody else.

And he’ll be the one who's crying.

Yeah, one day.

*If you’d like to be added to the tagslist just let me know I am more than happy to :)

[scrollonso]

Crazy In Love¹

A Strollonso AU where Fernando succeeds the Spanish throne and makes it his goal as king to make the Prince of France his groom. (3.4k words, dark!nando) [@catboysracing] {l could've made nando a lot worse but I didnt want this to be 10k words 😭 this is a very rushed rough draft so if i make this a series it'll be more drawn out,, or maybe not idek its 02:26 im tired ☠️}

masterlist - next part

Lawrence stepped out of his carriage, holding his hand out to his wife as she carefully placed a foot on the ground, using Lawrence's shoulder for support as she planted both of her shoes on the stone pathway below them.

Lance peeked his head out before exiting, following his fathers lead in holding out his hand to help his sister, Chloe, out as well. His other siblings had already been married off and attending this ball in the Royal Palace of Madrid was his parents' way of finding their youngest children suitors.

"Very good, my boy" The king praised before the four of them began their walk into the palace. They were shown to the ballroom where most of the guests were straight away. The room was all white with gold detailing, artwork littered on the ceiling as spirals of gold framed the dozens of doors surrounding them

"Pardon me" The queen spoke softly, lightly touching her husbands arm before disappearing through the crowd to make her way to Maria Theresa the Archduchess of Austria.

"Excuse me, Father, Can I go speak with Marie?" Chloe spoke seconds later, her father simply nodding at the girls request. She smiled and muttered a thank you before finding her way to her friend, similarly to her mother.

Lance hated these things. Being in a closed space full of hundreds of people. He couldn't help the sour expression on his face as he looked around the bright room, eyes settling on his half brother Esteban. Lance was more than aware of his fathers infadelity and how he had three children with other women. Lance wasn't too fond of the younger two but he'd grown up close with Esteban and his mother Pauline de Mailly.

"Stop scowling, Lance." Lawrence spoke sternly, greeting his youngest son with a slap to his back

"Sorry, Father." Lance spoke, quick to fix his face as he turned to the king "May I be excused, Father? Esteban is on the other side of the ballroom."

"Go on."

Lance couldn't help but smile as he reached Estebans side, being quick to give him a nod

"Votre Altesse" Esteban hummed, trying to stop himself smiling as his little brother rolled his eyes at the title, he never called Lance Your Majesty unless he was teasing the younger boy "Brother, How are you?"

"I'm well, how long have you been here?"

"Oh, not long. Me and my mother arrived no more than an hour ago." Esteban spoke, Lance nodding at the response

"Have you had any of the food?" Lance asked, hoping his brother would say no so they could eat together

"I have not, shall we go together?" Lance smiled once more, nodding as he followed the older man to the long table of food and refreshments.

Fernando was speaking with Duke Maximilian III Joseph of Bavaria regarding the state of their allies during the ongoing war when he first spotted the French prince, his justaucorps a warm brown embroidered with intricate and colourful flowers. The boys hair was long and wavy, he was constantly brushing it out of his face as he spoke with the slightly older man next to him.

The new king was unsure of who the man next to him was but he was well aware of who Lance was. Fernando had met with Lawrence the second Ferdinand had died, as the new king it was his duty to keep up alliances between the dynasties. With Spain and France being the largest two dynasties as of then, having a relationship with Lawrence was very important to him.

As the conversation came to an end he excused himself to find the Frenchman again, pleased at how easy it was. He was standing off to the side as the man from before spoke with a woman from Sweden, Fernando taking the opprotunity to finally speak to him.

"Monseigneur Lance, it's a pleasure to meet you." Fernando bowed his head, holding a hand out to the shorter prince who's eyes shot up, they were hazel and seemed to sparkle in the dimly lit room.

"Sire," Lance spoke softly, taking Fernandos hand as the Spaniard placed a kiss on his knuckles, the younger boys face flushing pink at the usually meaningless action "the pleasure is all mine."

"I hope your journey here wasn't too strenous, it's a long ride from Versailles." Fernando spoke, letting go of the boys hand then stepping back slightly

"Of course not, I always prefer the carriage rides to the actual balls, anyway" he stated matter-of-factly, only realizing how rude it sounded seconds later. "Apologies, I'm not sure why I said that."

Fernando smiled, covering his mouth to let out a small laugh "There's no need to apologize, I feel the same."

Lance wasn't sure how to respond, all he could do was flash the king a smile, not expecting to relate to him of all people.

"Is it stuffy in here to you?" The Spaniard asked, cocking his head to the side before continuing "Would you like to ride around with me? Get some fresh air."

"I'd love to." The teenager responded with no hesitation, face lighting up at the idea

"Let's go, then. I'll give you a personal tour of my dynasty as long as you'll return the favour." Fernando said, holding his hand out once more, but this time to steal Lance away

Fernando stood beside the door of the carriage, helping the prince get in before getting in himself. It was nice, Lance thought, being treated how princesses are treated. As the carriage began moving he couldn't get the feeling of the Spanish mans lips on his knuckles out of his mind, it was embarrassing just how much he had replayed it already.

"Will your family be staying the night? Most of my guests are but if you're leaving before dawn I'll be sure to return you in time." The king spoke, Lance's eyes focusing on the mans mouth as his lips moved, hardly registering his words.

"I'm sure we will be, my mother and sister prefer to get a decent amount of rest before returning home after balls."

"Perfect, that gives us plenty of time, then." Fernando nodded to himself, moving to sit on the same side as Lance as he pulled back the curtains, the sunset illuminating the streets perfectly.

The smaller boys eyes found their way outside, practically twinkling as he admired just how gorgeous it looked at this time of day

"It's beautiful" He whispered, not bothering to turn and see the older mans reaction

"It is" The Spanish man said quietly, he knew what Lance meant, the landscape was beautiful. Of course Fernando knew that, he lived here, but he only thing he could see was the Prince next to him, he was truly beautiful.

The two continued down the road for a few more minutes before they reached town, Fernando noticing his guards escorting Jesuits from their home right away. He swiftly closed the curtains and began distracting Lance, not wanting the sweet boy to witness the men in black cassocks being pushed and shoved through the streets of the small town they had entered. The new king had made it his first order to expel every resident of the Spanish Empire that was concerningly loyal to the Pope as soon as he had been crowned. He would never admit it as he was too full of pride but he felt threatened by the men devoting themselves to the pope. He was above the pope. He was king. He had power and he was going to make sure every commoner he ruled over was aware of that.

"Hm?" Lance hummed as he noticed the curtains draw shut, turning his body to face the larger man, having not taken in just how drastic their size difference was. Not only was there a difference in power from Spanish King to French Prince but there was also a difference in aura, the mans eyes on him felt intimidating, Lance gazing hesitently at the man as the carriage fell quiet, Fernandos lidded eyes not leaving Lance's for a second

"We're rebuilding in this area, I'd hate for you to see how much of a mess it is right now." He lied, the words slipping off of his tongue as if they were as true as scripture, reciting it as if it was a verse he'd spent weeks remembering.

The credulous boy just nodded, having way too much trust in the man he'd become acquainted with just minutes prior.

"I'm sure it looks fine, every part of your kingdom I've seen so far has been stunning." The Frenchman reassured, wondering if maybe the new King was insecure about the state of his colonies.

"Why, thank you, Monseigneur Lance." Fernando smiled, partially because of the sweet words coming from the boy at his side but also because of just how easy he was to trick "you're too kind."

"No need to be so formal, Your Majesty." Lance scooted back, eyes following Fernando as his arm moved to open the curtains once more, now far enough away from his men to insure Lance saw nothing. "It's just us"

"If I'm to just call you Lance then please, call me Fernando."

"Well, Fernando." Lance started, looking outside of the carriage before turning back to the man "Can you tell me more? About your dynasty. I've only learned what's in the books"

"You've read books about my kingdom?" Fernando laughed dryly, finding it funny how the Prince of France spent his free time reading about the Spanish Empire.

"I've read about many things." Lance nodded, locking his fingers together in his lap "My Father would rather me learn than fight in the war."

"Ah, yes." Fernando nodded, having forgotten about what was currently happening on his allies land. "I understand where he's coming from. I was hesitant to put my sons in command as well."

"How many sons do you have, Fernando?" Lance asked, not having read much about the new kings family

"Three, they're all around your age" Fernando looked outside, smiling to himself as he watched Lance turn to look as well "Carlos is my eldest, then Lando, then my youngest boy Oscar."

"You have only sons?" Lance asked, still looking outside, watching as their surroundings began to get darker and darker

"Yes, just three boys."

"What about their mother? There isn't a queen, is there?"

Fernando shook his head, leaning on the wall behind him before responding, arms crossed over his chest as he watched "Their mother died a few years ago, Tuberculosis they think."

"Oh." He whispered, only now turning to look at the Spaniard, biting his lip slightly in an effort to hide his newfound discomfort "I'm sorry, I- I didn't know."

"Don't apologize." He spoke, harsher than he had before. "Was nothing I could do, the boys are old enough to deal with it and I had more important things to do than wallow in my own self pity."

Lance just nodded, fidgeting with his fingers as he avoided the Spaniards gaze, feeling embarrassed for even bringing it up, although a part of him was relieved to find out the King didn't have anyone at his side

The man reached out to grab Lance's hand, quickly letting his coachman know they were getting out and to wait for them.

The naive Prince followed blindly, letting the man ahead of him pull him through unfamiliar land as if they'd known one another all their lives. Fernando couldn't help but take note of everything Lance was so quick to let him do to him, he couldn't help but wonder just how far he could push it.

They eventually reached a short stone pathway and at the end was a small pavillion with a bench nestled towards the back where plants were growing up the wood. By then it'd gotten darker, Fernando glad to have matches on him as he lit the lamps around the wooden structure

"Woah" Lance breathed out, admring the garden he'd found himself in as Fernando dusted off the bench, still holding onto the boys hand as he pulled him to take a seat

"I haven't been here in ages. I figured if I was going to go back it'd be fun to not be alone." Fernando hummed, the last time he was here he'd killed his father.

"Gosh, if I lived closer I'd spend all my time here!" Lance laughed, smiling up at the man who had yet to take a seat

"I used to, when I became King the first time I hardly had time" He spoke, looking around as soon as he finished, eyes falling on the steps in front of him, the place he'd met his father before quite literally stabbing him in the back. It was what the old bastard deserved. Without his actions Ferdinand would've never became king and Fernando would still be stuck in Naples.

"The first time?" Lance hummed, unbuttoning his justacourps and sliding it off before folding it neatly in his lap

"Si." Fernando nodded, finally taking a seat next to the Prince "Before my brother died I was the king of Naples and Sicily. My eldest, Carlos, is taking over as soon as he finishes being stubborn about his knightly duties."

The boy laughed, he'd grown so used to just hearing people around him speak that everything about Fernandos accent made his sarcasm even funnier. "You're very experienced, Fernando"

"I am." He confirmed, meaning it in more ways than the innocent boy could imagine. As a ruler? Yes, of course. Killer? He supposes. Husband? To some extent. Sexually? Very.

"How long did you rule over Naples and Sicily?" He asked, eager to learn more about the mysterious man beside him

"Twenty-four years, I took over when I was eleven so my mother helped me rule until I was married off and began having children."

"Wow, I feel like I haven't done anything as prince" Lance laughed, tracing the neatly done sewing on the cloth he had on his lap "My father took over France at five, his mother helped him until he was thirteen as well, but sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be king."

"You could be my king." The Spaniard spoke calmly, not sure why Lance began to react the way he did

"Hm?" He questioned, unsure if he was understanding the mans accent correctly

"Be my king. I have no bride, nor do I have a groom." The man shrugged, watching as Lance's facial expression controrted "It is not the 16th century anymore, is normal to have two kings, Lancito."

Lance was aware that it'd become more normalized to see two men ruling side by side, a part of him had always yearned for the connection between a King and his King Consort but until now he'd figured it'd just been out of pure curiosity and a need to figure out the unknown

"Are you asking me to madry you, Fernando?" Lance asked, knowing it seemed obvious enough but he had to be sure, maybe this was just a Spanish thing.

"Consider it." Fernando spoke, holding Lance's hands in his own "Don't say no straight away, this will give us both what we want."

"I'm not sure my father would say yes-" Lance began, eyebrows furrowing as the Spaniard cut him off

"You're father likes me, I'm sure he'll be delighted to hear his son has been proposed to by none other than his greatest allies king."

"I know, I'm just not sure he'll be comfortable with me being so far from home." Lance's voice got quieter as he spoke, not wanting his words to upset the man before him

"I'll take you to visit every chance we get, it'll be like you never left." His voice softened, realizing that if he was to get the French Kings son to marry him he'd have to play nice.

"Well, then.." He dragged out his words, looking at their hands together before responding. There was such a drastic contrast between them, the Spaniards naturally tan and thicker hands making the boys pale and lanky hands seem even smaller. "I suppose" He finished, figuring he wouldn't find anyone better than the Spaniard. He'd seen his siblings get married to ugly and unjust aristocrats that he was relieved someone so kind was asking for his hand in marriage.

The taller mans lips curled, he quickly stood up and pulled Lance to him, the Frenchman leaving his coat on the bench beside where he'd sat before being greeted by the sudden feeling of lips on his.

It was embarrassing to think about how bad of a kisser he had to be. He just tried to follow Fernandos lead, fingers trailing over the gold detailing of his dresscoat as the kiss began to deepen, the kings hands finding their way to the boys waist to pull them even closer, bodies practically connected as Lance settled on the tips of his toes in order to make this easier.

Once Fernando pulled away Lance felt light headed, lips now puffy and red as he breathed harshly, covering his face from the man out of pure embarrassment.

"Do not hide from me, Lancito." He cooed, leaning over to pull the boys hands from his face, thumb brushing over his lips before he spoke again "te ves guapo" the king whispered, Lance unable to hold back a smile as he registered Fernandos words, face flushing a familiar pink as the man called him beautiful.

"We should get back" Lance said softly, face turning to meet the Spaniards gaze as his hands lingered on his chest

"You're right, I should probably ask for your fathers blessing, eh?" They laughed, the prince nodding as the older man grabbed a lantern, calmly finding the way back to the carriage

Fernando couldn't keep his hands off Lance during the short ride back, hand inching further up the boys thigh as his face got hotter, now hidden in the collar of his casaca. It was painfully obvious how inexperienced the boy was, Fernando wasn't sure what he'd done in his past life to deserve such a reward but he was beyond grateful.

It didn't progress past teasing touches, Fernando curious to see just how worked up he could get the boy before he disappeared back into the ballroom to speak to his father.

The answer was very, as they came to a stop outside the palace Lance couldn't hide the look of pure arousal on his face as he felt the Spaniards hands leave, whining at the feeling of his touch fading

"Fer..." He whispered, grabbing weakly onto the mans sleeves as he begged for just a little more

"Patience, let's see what your father says before continuing this, mi rey" Fernando negotiated, kissing the boys jaw softly before exiting the carriage, disappearing inside before Lance had the chance to follow behind.

"How have you been, Your majesty?" The King asked, earning a short response from his ally. "I've come to ask something of you, if you don't mind."

"Go ahead" Lawrence nodded, watching the Spaniard with curiousity

"I'd like to ask for your blessing, King Lawrence." He stated plainly, looking the man in front of him in the eyes "I'd like to make your son my King Consort."

Lawrence nodded right away, arm moving to pat the tanned mans back, smiling similarly to Lance "I'd love to give you my son, I'm shocked you felt the need to ask, Sire."

They both laughed, Lawrence's practically coming from his stomach as he closed his eyes, Fernando returning a short, knowing, and dry laugh.

Lance wandered back into the ballroom, greeted with a light hug from his mother, it wasn't normal in his family for her to show affection to him like this so he was almost worried something had gone wrong but as soon as he saw Lawrence and Fernando side by side he knew what'd happened, he was now set to marry the King of Spain.

[thoseboysinblue]

Trustfall

Part 1

Christian Pulisic x reader

You are one of Christian's closest friends in London, but maybe both of you want a bit more.

Word count: 4500+

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, mentions of oral sex, this part does not contain smut but the next part does :)

Song Inspo: Trustfall by Pink

Requested: No

Author's note: This one has been sitting in my drafts for well over a year, so let's pretend for a minute they are all still playing for Chelsea :) There will be a second part coming soon!

You are standing in the family and friends waiting area chatting quietly with some of the Chelsea staff about the match that had just ended. Things had not gone in favor of the Blues, and even with a fair amount of decent chances towards the end, they still lost by one goal.

You notice as a few of the players start trickling in, moving to speak to their family and friends. You make eye contact with two of your best friends and excuse yourself politely from the conversation you were involved in. Both of them greet you with a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek, but they aren't who you are looking for, and they both know it.

"He's still in the locker room," Mason says quietly. "He won't talk to either of us," Ben adds, "maybe you can go..." he trails off. You nod and the three of you leave and make your way back towards the changing room.

Your friendship with the three boys started when you took a job with Chelsea managing logistics for travel and player hospitality. The three of them had quickly pulled you in, adding you to movie and game nights after noticing that you spent a great deal of your time alone when traveling with the team.

What started out as hanging out in hotel rooms for away matches eventually evolved into the four of you having regular dinners and nights out. The boys appreciate that you understand the world of footballers lives, but that it never seems to matter too much to you, often joking with you about how quickly you had friend-zoned them.

In all honesty, you had friend-zoned them rather quickly and obviously, not wanting to cross any boundaries with your job. However, you'd always had a soft spot for one of them. You did wonder if he could possibly feel the same way, but dismissed it thinking he had better options and you were just happy to have him in your life in whatever way you could.

"We'll wait here," Mason says as you reach the door to the locker room, "he should be alone in there by now."

"Blow jobs always help after a rough match," Ben says to you with a wink.

"Really, Ben? That's the advice you have right now?" you say slapping him playfully on the chest.

"We are just friends" you say, feeling yourself blush.

"Sure you are" the two boys say in unison as you roll your eyes and turn towards the door of the changing room.

"Christian?" you say barely above a whisper as you peek your head around the door. You glance quickly around the room, confirming that you are indeed alone as you make your way over to him.

He barely glances up to acknowledge your presence as you move closer. Once you reach him, you stand in front of him, the top of his head resting against your stomach as he stares at the floor. "Tough game tonight, you played hard" you say as your hands find their way to the back of his hair, lightly scratching his neck and scalp.

He sighs and relaxes into you a bit, loosely wrapping his hands around the backs of your legs. "I played like shit, y/n, missed some sitters, we could've won, you don't have to sugar coat it" he says dejectedly. "I'm not sugar coating anything, you did play hard, you had some unlucky misses, but others did, too," you reply, "no one blames you, it's not all on you, Christian."

"Ha, tell my social media that" he says, finally looking up at you. "Fuck those guys, half of them couldn't make a pen even with no keeper in the goal", you answer, shaking your head at his harsh words towards himself.

He shifts a bit, pulling you into his lap and leaning his head against your chest as he toys with the zipper on your track suit jacket. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, lightly dancing your fingers along the top of his arm as you both sit in silence for a few minutes.

The two of you have always been somewhat affectionate towards one another, but this, this closeness, is new. You wonder if he could hear your heart hammering away in your chest, as butterflies erupt in your stomach.

"You'll recover from tonight, you'll keep training hard, and you'll do better next week. I know you, and I know you won't let tonight define you," you said quietly placing a kiss to the top of his head.

He nods against your chest, knowing you are right.

"Did you drive tonight?" you ask as he delicately strokes his fingers along your side.

"No, I rode with Chilly" he answers.

"Want me to give you a ride home? Maybe cook some dinner and keep you company for a bit? you question him, God knows I can't leave you alone with your thoughts and social media tonight," you chuckle. "Yeah, I'd like that, y/n" he says quietly giving you and appreciative squeeze.

"Chilly told me to offer you a blow job" you state matter of factly, giving him a bit of a nudge. "I bet he did" he answers with a laugh. "There he is, at least I got a bit of a laugh out of you" you grin back at him. "Come on" you stand up, grabbing his hands and pulling him off the bench and into a hug, "let's get you out of here, you can shower at home."

A few minutes later, you emerge from the dressing room, Christian following closely behind you after pulling his training jersey back on and swapping his boots for slides. You give a small smile to the two boys leaning against the wall waiting on you as Christian gives them each a fist bump.

"Gonna take this one home and make sure he gets something to eat". They both nod and exchange a few reassuring words with Christian as you all make your ways to your cars.

As you and Christian start towards his house, the drive is mostly silent. You turn on your playlist that has slowly been infused with few of his favorite country songs. You hate to admit that you have started to enjoy them as well, but it warms your heart when you hear him quietly humming along as you continue driving.

Once you get to Christian's house, he lets the two of you in and makes his way upstairs to shower. While he is showering, you head to the kitchen to try to sort out something for dinner.

When he returns, he stands in the doorway to the kitchen watching you as you cook and sing along to the music you turned on to drown out the silence in the house. Caught up in the moment, he is in absolute awe of you and incredibly thankful that he has someone like you in his life.

You somehow always know exactly what he needs without him needing to ask. You notice him leaning against the doorway and offer a small smile, "it's pretty simple, but I've made some pasta with chicken and vegetables" you tell him. "Had to make due with what you had here, you need to make a grocery run, Chris."

"Sounds perfect, and yeah, I know." You fix your plates and slide them across the counter to where he is sitting opposite from you. "Beer?" you question, pouring yourself a glass of the wine he keeps at his house for you. He nods as you slide the bottle over to him, walking around the counter to sit beside him.

"Thank you, y/n" he smiles at you. "Of course" you reply, tapping your wine glass to the top of his beer as you both settle into your meals.

You finish eating, making small talk about his family and what the next couple of weeks of travel with the team was looking like, both of you moving around to clean up from dinner and putting the leftovers away in the fridge.

"Want to stay for a movie?" he asks, not quite ready for you to go home just yet. Of course you don't mind staying as the two of you move to the couch in his living room.

You settle down in the corner of the L-shaped couch with your legs outstretched in front of you, getting comfy under a blanket. Christian moves to sit close to you, leaning into you before eventually laying on his side with his head in your lap and wrapping one arm around behind you while the other drapes across your legs.

One of your hands instinctively moves to lightly scratch his head while the other rests comfortably over his side. You aren't sure how much of the movie either of you are actually watching as you catch yourself admiring his relaxed appearance for longer and longer periods of time.

You can't help but stare at his features, light freckles decorating his skin, long eyelashes, those dark brown eyes that you feel like you could get lost in, and the slight stubble along his jaw.

He isn't really paying attention either, he is too busy daydreaming about how he wishes this could be the norm for the two of you. Quiet evenings together just enjoying one another's company sounds perfect to him.

As the movie ends, he sits up and stretches a bit, you doing the same. You stand up and fold your blanket back up to place over the back of his couch, assuming he will be ready for you to leave so that he can get some much needed rest.

He moves to stand in front of you, taking the blanket and placing it on the couch before grabbing your hands, "stay with me, y/n" he pleads quietly, "I really don't want to be alone" giving your hands a squeeze.

You wrap your arms around his waist, pulling him into a hug as he settles his arms around your shoulders pulling you into him tightly. You nod against his chest, "whatever you need" you answer him your stomach doing flips.

You embrace one another in silence for a few short moments, before you look up at him and grin "this isn't the part where you ask me for a blow job is it?" "No" he chuckles in response "not tonight anyways" he says with a wink.

Christian takes your hand again, leading you up the stairs, when he turns towards his bedroom, you stop.

"Am I not sleeping in the guest room like usual?" you ask, hoping you already know the answer.

"No, I said I didn't want to be alone, didn't I?" he replies leading you into his room.

As you step nervously into his room, he walks over to his wardrobe, pulling out a t-shirt of his for you to sleep in before heading to his en-suite as you follow him.

He pulls a fresh toothbrush out of the drawer and hands it to you along with the shirt. He quickly brushes his teeth leaving you to do the same and giving you some privacy to get yourself ready for bed.

You take off your make up as best as you can, brush your teeth and hair, and pull Christian's shirt over your head. Giving yourself a few moments, you take some deep breaths in an attempt to calm your nerves.

"What's the big deal?" you think to yourself. The two of you have shared a bed on a few occasions before, when you'd found yourselves too drunk to drive home from nights hanging out at Ben's or Mason's, Christian insisting that he wasn't putting you in a taxi or Uber late at night.

But never has he asked for you to stay with him, in his bed, definitely not when you were both sober. You eventually give yourself enough of a pep talk to emerge from the bathroom, the t-shirt he gave to you barely skimming over the tops of your thighs.

When he hears the door open, Christian looks up from his phone, his eyes dancing over you as his heart beats rapidly in his chest. He pulls the duvet back slightly, inviting you to slip between the sheets of his bed.

He places his phone on the table beside the bed, turning so that you can face one another. Both of you lay there staring into each other's eyes but leaving a bit of space between you, neither of you quite sure if you should make your move.

"I hope you weren't on twitter" you say with a slight smile. "Nope, just answering a few text messages" he grins back at you. "I don't need you kicking my ass for being on social media tonight".

"Good, because you are right, I would kick your ass...it's bad for your mental health and you don't need that shit in your life" you reply. "You're right, I don't need it, I've got everything I need tonight, right here" he answers as he moves a bit closer placing a kiss on your forehead.

And there they are, the butterflies again. You are a bit taken back by his words and actions and not quite sure how to respond. You take one of his hands in yours and pull it to your lips, placing a gentle kiss to his knuckles. "Night Christian" you breathe. Night y/n" he replies, thank you again for everything." You give his hand a little squeeze before the two of you slowly drift to sleep, his fingers still intertwined with yours.

As your eyes flutter open in the early hours of the morning you realize that sometime during the night, you turned over and were now sleeping with your back pressed against Christian's chest, his arm draped across your torso and your fingers intertwined. You can tell he is still asleep from his slow and steady breathing.

You shift slightly, unsure of what he might think of your current sleeping position should he wake up, but you feel him pull you further into him and he places a feather light kiss to your shoulder.

Is he awake then? Or is your imagination getting the better of you? Does he know you are awake? He starts softly snoring again, letting you know he is still sleeping and you slowly fall back to sleep as well.

A couple of hours later, you wake to the sound of Christian's alarm blaring from his phone. You feel him reach over and grab it from the side, never loosening his grip on you, snoozing the alarm and tossing it onto the bed beside you, giving you a little squeeze.

"Sorry, y/n, i didn't mean to over step", his words trail off as you turn over to face him. God his morning voice is sexy, you think to yourself.

"It's fine, Christian, really" you answer barely above a whisper while you nuzzle your face into his neck.

"I must say, it's nice waking up to someone" he says as his fingers scratch lightly along your lower back.

"Mhmmm. Just anyone though?" you counter, tilting your head back slightly to make eye contact with him.

Not just anyone, you, it's nice waking up to you, he thinks silently as he takes in your features. You continue your silent stare off, both of you hoping the other will make a move.

Christian glances down at your lips, then back to your eyes, then back to your lips again, his lips slowly part and he runs his tongue along his lower lip leaning in towards you slightly, but you are interrupted by the sound of Christian's alarm going off again.

"Fuck sake" he mutters, the moment now shattered. "I've got to go to recovery this morning" he grumbles.

"Ok, I'll get ready to head out then" you say back quietly. He answers, "No, stay, sleep in a bit, we can order lunch when I get back".

"This bed is comfy, I could sleep here all day I think" you answer him, pulling the duvet up around you a bit more as he turns to get out of the bed. "Settled then" he says, leaning down to place a lingering kiss on your cheek.

He showers and gets ready to leave, stopping to take another long look at you sleeping soundly in his bed. Before he leaves, he crosses the room and leans down on the bed, brushing your hair behind your ear and placing a kiss on your forehead, he whispers to let you know he is leaving and will be back in a few hours.

After sleeping for a while longer, you eventually wake up and check some emails from your phone, quickly making sure there aren't any issues with this week's upcoming travel before placing your phone on the charger next to the bed.

You quickly shower, pulling your hair back so that it will not get wet, brush your teeth and head to Christian's wardrobe for some fresh clothes.

After settling on one of his hoodies, you make your way down stairs, leaving your legs bare, hoping to entice him a bit. You are standing in the kitchen making a cup of tea when you hear someone coming through the front door.

"Chris, is that you?" you call out.

"Well, well, well, Mase, what do we have here", you hear Ben say from behind you. Slowly turning around to see them eyeing you up and down, noticing your attire, or lack thereof.

"Nice hoodie", Mason quips.

"Shut up, both of you" you say back, your cheeks burning crimson.

"Where's Christian?" you ask them as you push past to head back up stairs in search of your joggers.

"He was right behind us, but he stopped for a phone call right inside the door", Ben replies.

When you make it to the bottom of the stairs, Christian is standing there on the phone. His eyes widen when he sees you rush up the stairs, but he keeps talking as he quickly follows behind you.

When you reach his room, you grab the joggers you'd worn the night before and pull them on quickly hearing him end his phone conversation as he walks into the room.

"Y/N, I'm sorry, I sent you a text to let you know they were with me, but I guess you didn't see it."

"It's fine," you mumble not looking up from the floor, "I should've been dressed anyways". He moves over to you, placing two fingers under your chin and tilting your face upward to look into your eyes.

"Don't be embarrassed, y/n, I'm a bit pissed that they are here, I'd have told them to fuck off if I'd have known what I was going to come home to" he says with a soft smile.

"I don't know what I was thinking, we are friends, I know that," you answer quietly. He pulls you into a tight embrace, kissing you lightly on the top of the head, "friends, yeah," he says but there is a slight bit of disappointment in his tone.

"I'm going to get going, I'll bring your hoodie back later this week," you pull away from him and go back downstairs.

You find the other boys to tell them bye, both of them grinning at you with raised eyebrows. "Don't guys, just leave it, please" you whine.

"Fine, y/n, we'll harass him about it once you leave," Mason answers with a chuckle.

As you leave, Christian joins you near the door to see you out. "You really going to leave me to fend for myself with them?" he says with a slight smile playing on his lips.

"Yep" you answer playfully, fiddling with the strings on his hoodie. "Nothing happened, nothing to explain to them, right?" you shrug.

"Yeah, but it clearly doesn't look that way, does it" he answers you.

"No, probably not, I'm sorry," you breathe out as he hands you the tea you made earlier that he has transferred into a travel cup.

"You don't have to apologize" he says leaning his forehead against yours as he pulls you into a hug. "Alright, really, I'm going to go" you say standing on your tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.

"Have a good afternoon, Chris."

And with that you get into your car and go back to your apartment, leaving him standing by the door, wishing he'd pulled you in and kissed you.

As soon as Christian walks back into the living room, Ben and Mason begin interrogating him about you and last night.

"What happened?" "Did you finally pull your finger out of your ass?" "Tell us you did something, anything?"

"No guys, you know we're just friends, nothing happened," he answers with a groan flopping down on the couch.

"You're an idiot" Ben smirks.

"She doesn't stand around my kitchen in nothing but a hoodie and knickers, mate," Mason adds.

"You know you are not friends with her like we are," Ben shakes his head at him.

"She slept in my bed, I might have woken up spooning her" Christian adds with a slight grin.

"Bruh, come on" Ben says, "if she didn't seem bothered by that, then you've got to know she sees you as more than a friend."

"I don't know, I'm terrified of fucking up somehow", Christian tells them rubbing his hands over his face in frustration.

After a while, the conversation moves on to other things, but Christian's mind keeps wandering back to you.

At your apartment, you try to take your mind off of everything. You take care of some cleaning and preparing for the week ahead, before settling down on your couch with a book. After a few hours of trying to entertain yourself, you give up and text the boys in your group chat, trying to act as normal as possible.

Y/N: I'm bored. Anyone have plans tonight? Can we please do something? 😇 Ben: yeah, I don't have plans, movie at my house then? Mason: I'm in, you know I'm bored, too. Christian: I can't, I've got dinner plans. Ben: Weird that you didn't mention that earlier 👀 Christian: Forgot about it honestly 🙄 Mason: lucky girl 😅 Ben: so, meet at my house at 7 then? I'll order food Y/N: sure, sounds good Mason: 👍🏻

A couple of hours later, you arrive at Ben's house. Mason is already there and both boys are standing in the kitchen snacking on some things Ben had pulled out while waiting on your food to arrive.

"Hey, y/n" they greet you, both giving you a quick hug.

"Hey, what have I missed?" you ask, hopping up to sit on the counter.

"Not much really, what about you, what have we missed?" Mason asks, subtly nodding towards the hoodie of Christian's you still have on.

Throwing an eye roll at him, you frown "nothing, you've missed nothing" with a sigh.

"But you want it to be something don't you?" Mason pushes.

"I don't know, I have no idea what he's thinking. And then I'm worried about all of it. What if he really just wants to be friends and that's it?" you answer, rubbing your hands down your face.

"He definitely wants to be more than friends, y/n, and you do too. You don't come our houses to keep us company and cook for us after a loss. And you definitely aren't sleeping in our beds. Have you seen they way he looks at you? Do you really think he would look at his friend like this?" Ben says while showing you various pictures he has taken of you and Christian over the months.

The three of you eventually move to Ben's cinema room once your pizza arrives, spreading out along the sofas, the boys noticing you aren't really in the mood to share your usual banter with them.

Ben: CP, man, come get your girl. She's over here at my house, wearing your hoodie, and being all mopey. Christian: Really 👀 Ben: *sends photo* yes, really Christian: OMW 🏃🏻

When the movie you were watching half heartedly is nearly over, you hear someone coming up the stairs to Ben's cinema room. "Are you expecting someone?" you ask. "CP said he might come over, it's probably him" he replies. And just as he finishes his statement, Christian walks into the dimly lit room, coming over and settling down next to you on the sectional and pulling the blanket you were using to cover himself too.

You are sure you didn't do a very good job of hiding the excitement on your face when he arrives and now, with him sitting so close to you, you feel like your heart might beat out of your chest.

He quietly asks you a couple of questions about the movie you are watching, his hand searching to find yours under the blanket that is covering you. Once he finds it, he intertwines his fingers with yours and gives them a squeeze, causing your stomach to somersault.

After the movie finishes, they boys ask Christian about his date from earlier in the evening. You sit silently scrolling on your phone, pretending that you aren't listening.

Christian's hand drifts to your thigh, drawing shapes still hidden by the blanket. You relish the slight touches he is giving you, but don't care to hear about whoever he was entertaining earlier in the evening. "Friend of a friend, nothing really, she is just a girl someone from home thought would be a good idea to set me up with" he says giving your leg a reassuring squeeze.

"So not interested in seeing her again?" Mason asks. "Nah, you know how it is, within 5 minutes she was asking the usual 'how many cars do you have?', 'what's it like living your life?', ordered the most expensive wine and meal on the menu," he scoffs.

"That's shit," Ben answers, "hate it when they act like we aren't normal people, too".

You drop your phone into your lap, looking at all three of them "you all know you deserve better than that, it's ridiculous that people can't see beyond all the bullshit and treat you like people rather than objects to be collected."

"And that y/n, is why you are worth more than your weight in gold" Ben smiles at you.

"Sorry guys, I just hate that it's like that for you, you deserve better, all of you," you said standing up and stretching.

"I think I'm going to call it a night" you tell them, "I'll see you guys in the morning." You hug each of them before you let yourself out and drive home.

"Chris, why aren't you going after her, you know you want to" Mason presses him.

"I don't know man, what we have is nice, what if I fuck it up?" Christian replies.

Ben counters, "just don't fuck it up, get out of your own damn head and go make her yours. I've never seen two people make heart eyes at each other the way that you two do. She was moping around here knowing your were on a date. Just like you did the last time she went out with someone besides us".

"She's friends with us man, she's definitely more than friends with you, or should be anyways," Mason adds.

"Alright, alright, I get it, I guess I should probably get going, need to go get my girl" Christian grins at them. My girl he thinks to himself, she should be my girl.

Tag List:

@chilwellspulisic @neverinadream @masonspulisic @pulisicsgirl @swimmingismywholelife @lovelynikol16 @nyctophilic0vitnir @lunamelona @tall-tanned-tattoo @lizzypotter14 @bracedes

[steamberrystudio]

07/07/2024 Tumblr Devlog

Hallo everyone!  Time for the tumblr update! Whii~iich I think I may have skipped a couple - it looks like I did that annoying thing where I wrote up an update and *forgot to post it*. 

Sorry about that! 

So what have I been doing lately? Well. Lemme tell ya.

I wrote 23,000 words this week, for one. I am ded. ┗( T﹏T )┛

But let's jump into the details because in the most recent update I see, I was still revising chapter 10.

Summary:

Finished revising, proofreading, and formatting chapter 10

Revised Asher ending sequence

Revised Daaz ending sequence

Finished drafting Kav's endings sequence

Finished drafting Noel's ending sequence

Finished drafting Raif's endings sequence

Worked on a ton of UI changes and improvements

Worked on some sprite tweaks

Received some new BG art!

Writing:

So as you can see, lots of writing progress since my last update. 

I finished revising chapter 10 and coding it. It turned out to be 88,000 words coded.

I revised and formatted Asher and Daaz's ending sequences into the game. Those two were already drafted and just needed to be cleaned up and put into Renpy.

The remaining four character still needed to be drafted but I had paused to revise the entire script so I could make some necessary plot fixes before I tried to draft the remaining endings. 

With that done, I've moved into finishing up the draft.

Currently I have Kav, Noel, and Raif drafted and Yren in progress.

And that will be all the main game content complete!

The current un-coded word count amount is 625,000 words. 💪

Art:

So I have completed some CG work since my last update but the main thing I've been working on art-wise is UI updates and changes. 

A lot of small changes to the general aesthetic as well as implementing a lot of small additions I've been contemplating for a while as QoL improvements.

Such as a little indicator that shows when you are in a "character branch" and things like that.

I've also made a few small tweaks to some of the sprites - mostly just making their expressions a little more dramatic since they were reading a bit flat to me. And, of course, adding new outfits. Always new outfits. LoL

And of course, new BGs from both artists.

Background are around 76% complete currently.

Other Stuff:

I guess UI goes in here too since in addition to the "art" aspect, there's the implementation aspect as well.

Once you change the look of something that has to be coded in, of course. 

I ended up deciding that I want to experiment with moving the sprites around a bit more - mostly moving them a bit closer and then further away depending on the scene, what's happening, and how many characters are on screen in a given moment.

There are several benefits to this including keeping the screen from being static for long periods but also, there are a couple of characters that the player will really benefit from being able to see their faces up close (mostly Raif and Yren).

So yeah - in addition to redesigning some of the screens, I have also been implementing those changes bit by bit.

The game definitely looks quite different now. I recently saw a playthrough of the current prototype that's on Itch and was astonished because I forgot how it looked when it was first released. Ha ha. It's gone through a lot of changes. 

Noel no longer matches the ceiling, for one! Amazing.

Upcoming Weeks:

I will be working on finishing up Yren's ending sequence and hope to get that done in the upcoming week - which means another heavy writing week. 

As I've said elsewhere, I have been calling them "ending sequences" but in reality this is the last three chapters of each route which is about 20,000 words total for each character. I have about 3000 words of Yren's done and I'm actually only shooting for about 15,000 for the rough draft because I invariable add dialogue and variations when I edit, which means I have to undershoot the draft so I don't overshoot the word count during revision.

So yeah, I'll be completing Yren's final three chapters, then revising Kav, Noel, Raif, and Yren and formatting them into the game, which will give me the "final" word count for the project.

And then I will be "done" with the writing (in quotes because...you're never done with the writing until it releases. LoL

I should definitely be done with drafting and revising by my next update here but I can't really say what I'll be working on by that point. Probably...UI and CGs. Not sure.

We'll find out in the future I suppose! See you then!

[bob-frank451]

Hey, so I had the rough draft written a month ago, but school and papers delayed publishing til now, so

Well

Enjoy!

Humans Are Weird : Throwing, Part 2

    Archivists note to the reader: It seems you are viewing this item in the human language English. For this reason names have been transliterated, units have been converted, and the content has been ontologically translated. Apologies for any inconsistencies.

    The volatus was immediately swamped with sensation and cacophony. Everywhere he looked there were vast oceans of vendors, yelling in a fruitless attempt to be heard over the hubbub, attempting to sell their wares. Food, art, technology, ideas… if the mind of any sapient race could imagine it, it was for sale.

    Volati are fabulous information processors, if the information is presented orderly. With this chaos, however, almost any volatus would be utterly overwhelmed, as he was now. The human tapped him gently for attention. It was a normal gesture, even outside human circles, one of those universal solutions to universal problems, like two plus two equaling four, or using spears to stab your enemy.

    The human bent down and whispered into his ear, pointing at a couple of goem.

    “Look”

    “They look normal.”

    “My gut doesn’t like them.”

    The volatus paused, confused.

    “Your what?”

    “Intuition, Instinct”

    “Oh”

    He thought briefly. Human instinct was quickly becoming a topic of rabid interest in the Galactic Assembly’s scientific community. Some part of the way they were wired could pick up small cues better than almost any other race. Given this information this situation might develop into something much less innocuous.

    “Can you pick up anything?” his friend asked.

    The volatus allowed his brain to start processing the thaumaturgic signals in the surrounding area, wincing at the noise. Too many people, too many thinking beings. Too much interference, as it turned out. He couldn’t pick up anything useful.

    The tiny human yanked her fathers hair, pointing towards a vendor of trinkets. The group moved easily to the front of the small store, and the biologist lifted the girl down off his massive shoulders, and set her down in front of the booth. She immediately shrieked with delight, and grabbed two fistfuls of shiny rocks in her pudgy toddler hands.

    Toddler, one who toddles. Good word.

    The humans were talking. The vendor had approached the woman, and had launched into an elaborate sales pitch. The longer human had slowly placed himself between the vendor and his child. The child’s mother watched the vendor with dark, almost back, glittering eyes. The volatus could hear her heart and the signals given off by her neural circuitry. Both were speeding up.

    The child moved along the stall, wreaking havoc on the carefully organised displays as she went, oblivious to the growing tension.

    The vendor was talking, faster and faster. The volatus, acclimatised after years spent with these humans, could read the suspicion on their faces. The vendor, apparently, could not. Suddenly, his friend spun. Some deep spark of intuition programmed deep into his brain had understood the situation. The volatus turned, following suit, and froze with horror.

    One of the goem from earlier held a gun levelly and directly at the larger human’s centre of mass. He stood very still. The hum of his brain grew, until the volatus’s mind was nearly deafened.

    Far worse, however, was the other goem. He had snatched the humans’ child, and was slowly backing away. The volatus glanced at his friend's face, and saw the worst thing he had ever seen.

    The human looked desperate.

    The volatus felt fear shutting down his own mind, system by system. The child was lost, no doubt about that. The humans would probably be killed,  and then they would kill him too.

    No!

    no…

    please no.

    He almost missed it. One moment the goem was holding a gun and smirking, pride nearly dripping off his bulky features. The next he was gripping the souvenir knife that had appeared in his midriff, face awash with what the volatus’ astute mind identified as shock. In that fraction of a second the volatus analysed the actions and events, and saw what had happened. The child’s mother, unobserved, had grabbed the knife, and thrown it, THROWN IT, perfectly into the attackers torso.

    In a flash the big human went for the goem’s gun, but the electronic weapon refused to unlock for his biometrics, and he dropped it in disgust.

    The other goem was running now, which in another context would be hilarious. Goem are not made to run. But this goem  was dragging the human child.

    The big human cast around in desperation, before grabbing a shiny hunk of tungsten-carbide from the rock selection. Rock indeed, the volatus thought wryly. The human’s eyes snapped to the retreating goem, both eyes, binocular vision, the volatus noted. Despite his fear, the volatus could not help but focus on the human.

    The human raised the tungsten-carbide behind his head, and threw his body forward. In a flash the volatus finally understood the bizarre anatomy of the human arm. The muscle and bone placement, the tendons. A human’s arm, he realised with amazement and awe, is a trebuchet.

    The tungsten carbide left his hand in a perfect ark. Almost perfect. It was going to miss, just a little too far to the left.

    The goem saw the throw, and jumped away from the girl, a little too far to the left. The human had anticipated the doge, the volatus realised. The apparent imperfection had in fact been an adjustment which doomed the goem as soon as he jumped.

    The volatus turned away the moment it struck. He didn’t want to see the death. The tall human ran to the girl, and swooped her up in his arms. He passed her off to his wife, grabbed the volatus, and set off at a jog away from the mall. Even as he bounced undignified under the human’s arm, the volatus marveld. Each stride was easily a metre, perhaps more.

Four minutes later the adrenaline finally ran out and left the humans' system abruptly. The larger human set the volatus down, and bent over the edge of the path, retching. His partner wasn’t much better. She set her daughter down, and heaved miserably. Adrenaline always has a price.

    An hour later the group sat on some form of public transportation, shell shocked The biologist sat, one arm wrapped around his sleeping daughter, cuddled peacefully on his lap. The other arm was wrapped around his wife, curled against him. The volatus sat between the humans and the wall. He felt safe, guarded by titans.

The authorities would investigate the two deaths, but the security footage, and the recent crackdown on the trafficking of people would guarantee that there would be little retaliation.

    There would of course be a resurgence of the “deathworlders are monsters” narrative, but the volatus knew better. Humans are loyal, and their bonds go very deep.

    The volatus glanced at his friends. They look traumatised.  Their minds sat empty, aside from a thick blanket of horror.

    He checked his mobile device telepathically. His person had got back to him. He bumped the larger human. No response. He pushed harder. The human turned, slowly, as if through syrup. The volatus spoke.

    “They didn't die”

    The human looked at him with no comprehension on his face. The volatus tried again.

    “The two goem. They were recovered and stabilised. You didn’t kill anyone.”

    Both humans were staring at him now, eyes wide. The volatus suddenly felt very self conscious. 

    “They lived?”

    “Yes”

    “Oh thank you God.”

    The volatus checked his device again. More data.

    “They are in the hospital right now, but once they recover they will be shipped off world for investigation. Apparently this is a part of something much larger.”

    The smaller human looked at him. She took a moment to speak, as if carefully considering her words. She looked at her daughter for a long moment, and then back at the volatus.

    “So we are safe then?”

    The volatus did the human nod again.

    “I think we should be.”

    No, the humans weren’t monsters.

    Just good friends.

Ao3 Discord

[daddy-dins-girl]

Playdate - Chapter Four

I'm sorry this took forever. To make up for it, here is over 13k of pure and utter filth. Enjoy...

Main Masterlist Series Masterlist

AO3 link

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Marcus Pike x f! Reader x Dave York

Word Count: 13.1k (whoops?)

Chapter Summary: It's porn, but with sprinkles of feelings. Also, Dave's wish finally comes true ;) Well, one of them at least.

Chapter Warnings: 18+ MDNI. F/M/M threesome. Cucking/Wife sharing. Voyeurism. Derogatory Language. Daddy kink. Praise kink. Soft!Dave York. Dom!Dave York. PerfectHusband!Marcus Pike. Oral sex (m and f receiving). Unprotected p in v sex. Creampie. Rough p in v sex. Overstimulation. Biting. Slaps/spanks/swats (just a few). Sex toys. Anal play/fingering/rimming/sex (f receiving). If I missed anything else lmk!

Early the next morning (or, more accurately, in the middle of the night) you’re woken up by your very eager husband. A tired little moan escapes your lips when your eyelids begin to blink open, forced awake by the hot incessant mouth currently at your neck that’s licking and nipping and sucking at the tender flesh it manages to find in the dark and leaving a trail of tiny goosebumps in its wake.

“Baby?” you breathe out, brain still foggy but your body certainly caught up as you feel the all too familiar tingling sensation reach all the way to your toes.

“Need you” is all Marcus offers, words muffled into your throat.

You’re lying on your back and the bedclothes have been thrown off, leaving your naked body victim to the cool night air drafting in through the partially open window of the bedroom and Marcus is lying on his side, one arm underneath you and the other holding your face while he ruts his hips into your leg once, letting you know exactly just how much he needs you when the evidence of his arousal grinds into your hip.

You don’t know what’s gotten into him, but you’re certainly not mad at it. He’s not usually one to wake up in the dead of night needy for you (if anything, it was always the other way around) but you’re loving how desired he’s making you feel, how he seemingly just can’t help himself tonight.

It’s hot.

“Mmm, my poor baby” you giggle in response, reaching for his hand at your face and dragging it down to your breast. He hums in response and gives the mound a light squeeze before his fingers make delicate work of teasing your nipple with little pinches and pulls.

“Fuck, you were so hot tonight” Marcus breaths into your skin, voice already sounding desperate as he grinds into your hip again. His hand drifts from your chest down your stomach until it reaches between your legs and he moans when his fingers meet the sticky slick between your folds.

“Yeah? Tell me what you liked baby” you whimper while Marcus explores your sex with skilled digits, pushing all the way down to your entrance before coming back up to tease at your clit and repeating the action. “Wanna hear it”

“Fuck, I love how turned on you get” Marcus begins his confession, his touch getting a little more eager, more insistent. “Watching you let go. Love how hard you cum when we both make you cum together”

“Oh god” you whine quietly. You’re not sure if it’s Marcus’ words or his fingers that are driving you more crazy right now. You wrap your hand around his arm that’s over top of you, needing something to hold onto while your hips are canting off the bed, desperate to chase the pressure of his fingers.

“Wanna be inside you” Marcus breathes into your ear. “Please honey”

You nearly sob in response, aching and needy for him as well as you nod your head. Despite the multiple orgasms between the two of you earlier tonight the one thing that had been missing was Marcus inside you and you realize it’s been nearly a week since the last time you’d made love, no wonder you missed him so badly.

His fingers leave you and he rolls over top of you, settling between your legs and holding himself up on his elbows. One hand comes down to brush the hair from your face before he leans in and presses his lips to yours.

“Ok?” He asks as he lines himself up at your entrance and waits for your go-ahead.

“Mmhmm. Just… go slow ok?” You ask, still feeling sore from the pounding Dave had given you earlier. A dull throb between your legs you have a feeling you’re going to be walking around with for days to come. Not that you’re complaining, mind you.

“You sore baby?” He asks, frown appearing on his sweet face and tone laced with concern. “We don’t have to…” he starts to trail off but you reach up and place a hand on his cheek and lock eyes with him.

“No, please. Marcus, I need you” you plead softly. “Please baby, I’m ok”

Marcus answers with a slight nod of his head and a push of his hips until the head of his cock is sheathed in your warm entrance and you both moan in unison, feeling so good to finally have him inside of you again. He doesn’t bury himself all the way in, mindful of your body and not wanting to cause you any further discomfort. He just gently pumps his hips, shallow little thrusts, just barely past his tip. In and out, in and out.

“Is that ok?” He asks, checking in with you and already sounding a little breathless.

“Yes baby, feels so good” you moan, both your hands coming around him to hold onto his ass as he rocks into you. “Kiss me all better with your cock, just like that”

“Fuck,” Marcus groans at your choice of words, his eyes closing shut and he breathes through his nose to force himself to concentrate.

“Baby come here,” you pout, bringing your hands up to wrap around the back of his head and pulling him down for a kiss. His tongue slides inside to brush against yours and you moan appreciatively, your hands carding through his soft hair. “Missed having you inside me” you murmur against his lips when you break apart for air and a desperate little whine escapes Marcus as he nods his head against your forehead.

“Me too baby”

You slide your arms underneath his and then reach your hands up to curl them around his shoulders and gently pull him down on top of you and he lets you, his weight more on top of you now and the shift in position causes him to sink further inside of you.

“Oh my god” Marcus groans, mouth hot against your ear as he begins to kiss all over the side of your face.

Despite the soreness between your legs, having Marcus inside of you is everything you need. With each gentle push of his hips you feel the dull pain fading away as pleasure takes hold instead. Needing to feel more of him you cautiously bring your legs up and lock your ankles together behind his lower back, your heels digging into soft flesh.

“Fuck honey, I love you so much” he confesses, burying his face in your neck as he takes your queue and lowers his hips the rest of the way until he’s buried all the way in and you both moan when he fully bottoms out and stills his hips.

“Oh my god I could fucking cum already” Marcus groans, still unmoving and trying to get control of himself. Having not made love to you for days combined with everything that had happened earlier this evening he’s finding himself teetering dangerously close to the edge already but he wants to be able to last. You feel too good around him to end it so early.

“I’m sorry, I need a minute” he apologizes, pushing himself up on his forearms so he can stare down at you and your hands fall away from his shoulders.

“Marcus don’t ever be sorry with me” you tell him sincerely, brushing the back of your hand against his cheek and his eyes close at your tender touch. “Take all the time you need baby, I’ll just keep you warm” you tease, winking at him.

“You’re so fucking perfect” Marcus sighs. “How’d I get so lucky?”

“Mmm, I’m the lucky one” you counter, brushing your hands through his hair again and holding the back of his head. “You’re so good to me baby”

“I love you” he tells you again, barely above a whisper before he tilts his head down and kisses you soundly. A tiny moan escapes your throat when he gently rocks his hips into you, starting to move again.

“You feel amazing” he murmurs against your lips before he begins trailing kisses to the side of your face, down your jaw and to your throat. His body lowers down onto yours again as he continues to rock into you with shallow thrusts, staving off his own impending release.

“Oh Marcus,” you mewl, arms wrapping around his neck again to keep him as close as possible. “Please don’t stop baby, keep going. Need to feel you, please” you whine. Now that you’ve had a taste again after what seems like so long you don’t want him to leave you anytime soon.

“I won’t baby, I won’t” he promises, continuing with the slow and sensual slide of hips, filling you so completely every time his pelvis brushes against yours.

And he doesn’t stop. Marcus makes love to you literally until the sun comes up. It’s lazy and slow and passionate and the height of intimacy. You’re wrapped around him, limbs entangled and mouths everywhere as they kiss and lick and whisper little adorations into the heat of each other’s skin. You’ve come twice already and somehow Marcus has managed to hold himself off but you know that not only is he exhausted but he’s desperate for his own release. He stops mid-fuck occasionally to either just still inside of you for long minutes or pull out of you and take himself in his own hand, needing a breather and to hold off his orgasm and he looks so beautiful when he does that, you think to yourself. Muscles taught everywhere as his back arches and he tries desperately to hold himself together, jaw clenched and eyes closed like there’s an invisible thread threatening to snap.

“Please baby, please cum” you whisper into his ear while he continues to slowly rock in and out of you. It’s been well over an hour, probably nearing two, and you don’t have another orgasm in you to give. You know your body and she’s waving the white flag.

“Yeah?” Marcus breathes, hips picking up the pace only slightly. “You want it inside you?”

“Yes baby. Let go, fuck me. Need you to fuck me, please” you whimper and Marcus groans, arm coming down to lift your right leg up so he can push deeper inside of you and he sets a much faster pace, finally chasing his own much needed release.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck” he gasps, hips pistoning into you hard and fast, eyes closed in concentration. "Oh god, I'm close"

“Look at me baby, I wanna see you” you beg and Marcus is helpless against your soft little pleas, his eyes opening and staring into yours as he feels himself falling apart.

“Shit, baby I… fuck” he lets out a final groan as he buries himself to the absolute hilt and stills, cock pulsing as it spills deep inside of you.

“Oh my god, oh fuck,” he’s panting, pulling back just slightly before rocking back into you again and again, slow deep thrusts as he fucks his cum back inside of you. “Oh fuuuuuck you feel so good”

You love when he gets like this, completely wrecked for you and you wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him down until his full weight rests on top of you, his cock still twitching deep inside and you wrap your legs around his back again to hold him there for as long as he’ll allow it.

You both end up falling back asleep with him still inside of you and you call out to work that morning when you do finally wake up, deciding you deserve to take a “personal day”. You spend the whole day in bed together, kissing and cuddling and just wrapped up in each other’s embrace.

*****

It becomes an unspoken agreement between the two of you after that. In the days upcoming to whenever Dave comes over again you and Marcus refrain from having sex, knowing now how good it feels to have missed each other when you’re finally back in each other's arms again after Dave pulls the painfully taught thread loose and unravels you both. His visits start becoming a little more frequent, too. It's become essentially a bi-weekly routine you've set since your impromptu “sick day” with Marcus and today marks the third visit since then (the sixth time overall, not that you’re keeping count).

Tonight however will be a little different as Marcus has decided he wants to take on more of an observant role rather than a participatory one like he usually does. Dave is due at your door any minute and Marcus has already texted, letting Dave know you need to be taken care of.

It’s a vicious cycle, really. Marcus gets off on you getting off, and seeing how worked up Marcus gets up from it only gets you hotter. And Dave, well. Dave seems perfectly content being along for the ride and ultimately being the reason for you both taking your pleasure to new heights. And given his increased visits and never declining an invitation, it’s clear Dave is getting as much as he gives, too. A vicious cycle, as you said. You’re honestly shocked at how well everything is going between the three of you.

The familiar knock at your door pulls you from your thoughts and you look over at Marcus excitedly.

“Go answer it” Marcus nods towards the door with a cheeky little grin on his lips before settling himself back into the couch. It’s normally Marcus who does while you’re waiting upstairs so despite it being something as mundane as answering the door, there’s a little thrill that runs through you as you hurry over to it and pull it open.

You don’t even get a greeting past your lips before Dave is on you. He pushes himself inside, arms wrap around you and hands go straight to your ass as he gives it a firm squeeze as he turns you, slamming the door shut by force with your back by pressing your bodies into it. His mouth is at your throat, devouring every inch of flesh at his disposal that isn’t covered by your flimsy silk robe. It’s all tongue and teeth and desperation and you clutch at his shoulders, letting your head fall back in a soft thud against the door to give him better access.

One of his hands leaves your ass and you feel it at your waist before he pulls on the sash of your robe and it parts open. His warm hand is on your stomach next, traveling upwards to knead into your breast and he moans into your throat when he feels the naked flesh of you. You’ve quickly come to realize that wearing too much clothing around Dave is just a waste of time in the end so tonight you’re only in a pair of panties and your knee-length robe which Dave is currently pushing off your shoulders to pool at your feet.

“So fucking naughty for me tonight aren’t you? All ready for me” Dave growls into the juncture where your neck meets your shoulder and gently bites down, causing a hiss of pain to escape your lips and your hands fly to his hair, nails scraping against his scalp and tugging at the short dark chocolate strands.

He’s feisty tonight. You like it.

“Turn around” he orders gruffly, both hands coming to your hips and turning you in his grasp so you face the door. He manhandles you into the position he wants, your wrists crossed over top of each other against the door and your forehead leaning against them then he kicks your legs wider apart and pulls your hips back so your spine is arched and your ass is stuck out, pressed against his crotch. He gives an exploratory thrust of his hips, his obvious desire for you unmistakably hard, even through the thick material of his pants as he pushes it into the soft flesh of your ass.

“Just like that” he breathes before he brings one hand up to grip the back of your neck and keep your face against the door and his right comes down to land a hard blow to your ass cheek and you jump in surprise, something between a gasp, a shout and a moan leaving your lips.

“Good girl” Dave praises, hand gently smoothing over what is surely a deep red mark already. His hand wanders then, going around your front and between your legs instead and he presses two fingers into your heat, chuckling darkly when he feels how wet you are already.

“Oh you missed your Daddy, didn’t you?” He breathes into your ear as his fingers circle your clit and a little sob escapes you.

“Answer me” he growls, taking your earlobe between his teeth and then pressing your face harder into your wrists with the grip he has on the back of your neck.

“Yes! Fuck, I missed you Daddy” you cry out. “I’m so wet for you”

That seems to appease him for now as his hand leaves your neck, his teeth release you and his tongue soothes over it instead before he gently pulls the lobe into his mouth and sucks greedily.

“That’s all right baby, I’ll take care of you” he murmurs against your ear before planting a soft kiss just behind it. “You need to cum, hmmm? Need me to play with this little pussy for a bit?” he asks and you whimper, nodding your head frantically against your wrists. It’s been over a week since you were last with Marcus (your period truly had a cruel sense of humor sometimes) and you’ve been on edge for days, desperate for a release and Dave was already quickly unraveling you.

“Please,” you whine, not caring how needy you sound, you know Dave likes it anyway.

“Turn around for me sweetheart” he instructs, his hands leaving you and he takes a slight step back giving you room. You do as you're told, turning around and leaning back against the door. Eye to eye again, Dave cradles your face in his large hands and surges forward, crashing his mouth into yours, tongue instantly demanding entrance which you grant happily and he swallows down all your little moans while he kisses you until you're breathless. His hands leave your face to slip between your back and the door to grope at your ass, large palms massaging while nimble fingers dig into the soft flesh, threatening to leave bruises as a reminder for you of who this ass belongs to. Not that you could forget, he's sure to remind you just about every time you see him.

His kisses eventually slow as you both gulp for air between desperate presses of your lips together until he finally pulls away from them entirely and starts trailing his mouth down your throat instead, to your collarbone, the valley between your breasts and steadily downwards as he slowly sinks to his knees in front of you following the descent of his mouth.

“Oh my god,” you whimper, hands pushing through his hair as he’s kneeled eye level with your aching and needy sex. You need him so badly and he knows it, so he deliberately takes his time.

He plants little kisses along your waist, your hips, his tongue teasingly prodding under the waistline of your panties and you're cursing yourself now for even wearing them. He presses a single kiss to the damp center of them at your mound and then passes over the rest of you to plant little kisses to the insides of your thighs instead. Your head falls back against the door again, your breathing uneven and coming out in short little huffs while your fingers continue to rake through his hair.

“Put this leg up on my shoulder baby” he instructs, patting the thigh of your left leg and you obey, hooking it over his shoulder while his hand grips at your waist to hold you steady against the door.

“Good girl” he tells you before nuzzling his nose into your heat, breathing in your scent through the soaked little scrap of fabric keeping you apart. “Ruining your panties like my good little slut, hmm? Aughta shove them down your throat, give you a taste of what a good girl you are for me”

“Oh fuck,” you whisper breathlessly. In all honesty you’d probably let him do whatever he wants to you right now, you’re so desperate.

He takes the knuckle of his index finger and drags a line down your center overtop of your panties, applying just the right amount of pressure and your knees nearly buckle. You whimper pathetically and it only spurs his teasing on, deciding to replace his finger with his tongue; pointed tip dragging a delicious stripe up the center of your already dampened panties before he begins to just kiss and lick all over them.

“Oh please, please, please” you whimper so softly he barely hears it and for a moment you’re not even sure you’ve said it out loud, the blood rushing to your ears drowning everything else out.

Apparently he does hear you though because not a moment later he’s grabbing a fist full of your underwear and yanking them aside as his mouth finally descends on your bare cunt and he begins to devour you whole.

“Oh fuck! Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!” You gasp out. One hand flies to the door handle to give you something more to hold onto and the other one clutches into his hair, keeping him impossibly close as feasts on you with unprecedented enthusiasm.

Your eyes fly open and somewhere in the haze of lust you notice Marcus, standing across at the other end of the hall of the entryway now, leaning against the doorframe. His hand slowly strokes over the bulge in his pants and his gaze never leaves you, needing to be witness to the moment you fall apart. He loves this, sharing your pleasure with you. Loves the way your mouth parts, how the muscles in your abdomen tighten and contract with each labored breath, the way your eyes threaten to close but you fight so hard to keep them open for him.

The two of you had a long, very candid conversation not long ago when the frequency of Dave’s visits increased. You promised each other from the start that you’d be open and honest and agreed that communication was paramount if this was going to work and that if anything started to change, you’d address it head on.

And it had. Changed.

What started out as an endeavor for Marcus to learn from Dave and be able to offer you the things in your sex life that weren’t there before turned into a realization for you both after spending time with Dave. You didn’t want Marcus to be like Dave, you wanted Marcus to be Marcus, but you still wanted to have Dave. Dave was a craving. A particular itch that seemingly only he could scratch; the only one you wanted to scratch it.

You didn’t want Marcus to change. You love him so much and you absolutely love how he takes care of you in bed and you realize that maybe the reason it wasn’t ‘working’ when the two of you tried new things is because it wasn’t meant to. You still wanted the man you fell in love with. Dave offered you something else and you were honest with Marcus when you told him you like that too. It’s sexy and exciting and both your sex lives were better for it, neither of you could argue that. Marcus agreed. He loved how hot Dave could make you, and he liked himself to be the one to step in and take care of you the way he longed to either during or afterward. He wasn't as comfortable or confident in his ability to provide for you what Dave did, but he wanted you to have it (for himself as much as for you). And so it was settled. Dave stayed. You weren’t sure how long he’d want to be in your lives for, you had yet to have a real conversation between the three of you about it but for now you were happy that things were going as well as they were.

So now, when you stand across the room from your husband with another man between your legs and he stares into your eyes, you know there’s only love and desire there. No jealousy or resentment, just the love of your life ensuring your every happiness and it turns you on nearly as much as what’s going on below your waist.

Dave’s tongue is everywhere, driving you mad with want for long minutes on end and you can do little but try and focus any concentration you have on keeping yourself upright while he has you at his complete mercy, eating you out like you’re his last meal and meant to be savored. He licks long broad stripes up your center with the flat of his tongue, laps into your folds, sucks your throbbing clit into his mouth and even fucks into you with his tongue occasionally. While you're no stranger to having a mans mouth between your legs for long periods of time (Marcus would spend hours down there if you'd let him), it's definitely not the same when you're not flat on your back. Your every muscle strains with the effort to keep yourself upright while every nerve ending is tingling from the sensations caused by Dave's skilled mouth and tongue and eventually, barely able to take anymore, your legs threaten to give out from under you.

“Shit!” Your legs are like jelly and you nearly feel like you’re about to topple over him, your arm shooting out to catch yourself on Dave's shoulder when suddenly Marcus is there. He grabs both of your arms and shoves them up over your head and into the door, his hands holding at your wrists. The brief flicker of surprise you feel at his sudden action is quickly overcome by sheer arousal. Marcus holding you down while Dave pleasures you sends a flood of arousal straight to your core and a strangled sob escapes your lips. His stance is mirroring yours from earlier, legs spread wide, his body leaned forward towards you at his waist because Dave is on the floor between the two of you and Dave groans into your cunt when he flicks his gaze upwards and sees what’s happening above him. He begins to double his efforts then, starts licking through your folds again with an increased pace and pressure and sensing how close you are shoves two fingers inside of you and begins frantically flicking his tongue back and forth over your clit, over and over and over while his digits pump in and out of you and it's not long until you’re falling apart.

“Oh my god, I’m fucking cumming” you wail, eyes locked onto Marcus’ while Dave doesn’t let up, apparently intent on driving you to the brink of your sanity as wave after wave of arousal rushes out of you and he happily laps it all up, face deep in your cunt and moaning into you as he licks and finger fucks you through every deliriously exquisite second of your release.

Your leg up on his shoulder is trembling from your orgasm and Dave thankfully extracts his fingers and slows his mouth to greedy little swipes of his tongue, cleaning up the mess he’s made of you before he carefully lifts your leg from his shoulder and places it back to the ground. Marcus lets go of you too, taking your hands in his and then placing them down on Dave’s shoulders so you can hold yourself steady again and he takes a step to the side so Dave can rise up from the floor. The moment he’s up your left arm wraps around his neck, pulling him against you and the other tugs Marcus forward so you can wrap it around his neck too and you're hugging both of them to you, their bodies pressing you into the door on either side of you. You feel them press a little closer together as Marcus slings his own arm around Dave’s waist, hand clutching into his shirt.

“Oh my god,” You sigh, pressing a kiss into the side of Dave’s head before turning and doing the same to Marcus. Both strong bodies hold you up against the door while tremors continue to rack your entire body, your legs shaky and unsteady underneath you. Dave is breathing heavily into your neck from his efforts and Marcus isn’t faring much better, but for slightly different reasons that you can feel pressing hard into your hip.

“Baby, you came so fucking hard” Marcus laughs into your throat. “That was so hot” he confesses before pressing a kiss to your neck.

You ruffle his hair with your hand and then turn your face back towards Dave and place a quick kiss to the shell of his ear.

“Thank you Daddy” you whisper against it and he hums into your shoulder.

“Nearly had me coming in my pants, naughty little slut” he growls into your skin before giving you a gentle little bite and soothing over it with his tongue. He brings a hand up and pinches a nipple between his thumb and index finger and high pitched gasp escapes you followed by a delightful little squeal of laughter.

“Mmm, take me upstairs, show me how bad I’ve been” you suggest seductively and both men groan into the hot flesh of your throat.

It’s Marcus who leaps into action first, ready and eager to really get started. He lets go of Dave and places a hand behind your knees and scoops you up into his arms and kisses you before he heads for the stairs, carrying you bridal style the entire way up with Dave trailing closely behind.

“You sure you don’t wanna fuck her? She’s ripe for the picking” Dave offers, giving Marcus a quick little wink right after he’s set you down on the bed.

“You two have fun, I’ll make it up to her later” Marcus promises you, placing a kiss at the corner of your lips before he pulls away from you and goes to sit at the armchair on the other side of the bed. You make quick work of ridding yourself of your panties and tossing them aside, not wanting them in the way anymore and Dave raises an eyebrow at your eagerness.

“Oh we’ll have fun” Dave chuckles darkly. “Come here” he growls at you before he grabs you by the ankles and yanks you forward so you’re on your back, your ass at the edge of the mattress, near threatening to fall off.

His hands grip around your hips as his thumbs press into your pelvis, massaging in tight little circles with just the right amount of pressure and he pushes his still clothed groin against yours to prove his point of just how hard you've made him already. You whimper when it presses right into your center and grinds down with a promise of what's to come

"Yeah you need this cock, don't you sweetheart?" Dave breathes out, eyes sliding shut and you know he needs it just as much as you do. Not that he'd ever admit that. He likes it when you're the one begging.

"Mmmhmmm" You nod your head. "I need it so bad, please"

He takes a step away from you then, hands leaving you as well.

“Open up wide for me baby” he instructs, tapping his hand at the outside of your thigh and you lift your legs into the air, bent at your knees and spread them into a v-shape.

“Wider” he demands, grabbing both your thighs and pushing down until you’re near doing the splits in front of him, your knees almost touching down on either side of the mattress if you went much further. It’s definitely as far as you can go without causing yourself physical harm and thankfully Dave doesn’t push further, seemingly satisfied with you.

"That's it" he grins. "Hold them open" He instructs and you have to hook your arms under your knees and bring your hands around to grab around your ankles just to keep in the position he wants you in. Your heart is racing already and he hasn't even begun, just being so vulnerable for him makes the anticipation palpable.

"Mmm, that's my good girl, look at you on display for me" he clicks his tongue and then puts two of his fingers into his mouth and wets them before bringing them down between your legs to stroke through your folds and spread your arousal around before briefly pushing his fingers inside of you while his other hand other works on pulling his belt free and releasing himself from the confines of his pants. He spits into his own hand and brings it down to his member, pumping himself a few times before he lines himself up with your entrance, removes his fingers and with one push of his hips, sinks inside of you.

“Oh fuck” you whimper at the way he’s able to press so impossibly deep with the way you’re spread open for him.

“Shit” Dave curses as well, stilling for a moment and his hands come down to rest on your legs. He's not forcing you further open, but keeping just how he wants you. He knows the harder he fucks you the more inclined you’re going to be to try and move, voluntary or not. He slides completely out of you and then slowly back in, repeating the action a couple times just to tease you and it's working as you whimper above him, attempting to chase his cock with shallow movements of your hips.

“Don’t fucking move” he warns, squeezing the meat of your thighs for emphasis. “You’re gonna stay just like this and be a good little fuckdoll for me, hmm?” He asks you and quickly nod.

“Yes Daddy”

“That’s my girl” he praises before he pulls his hips back and slams into you, causing you to shift slightly up the mattress with the sheer force of his thrust.

“Oh my god, fuck!” you gasp out, the wind nearly knocked out of you from how deeply he hits inside of you. Your legs are trembling already just trying to keep them spread and it’s a good thing Dave was there to help hold onto them because you definitely wouldn’t be able to hold the position long otherwise.

His hand comes down to slap against your clit and another jolt rocks your body as a breathy gasp escapes your lips.

"I told you not to fucking move" He snarls, cock stilled and buried inside you, his hands moving to grip roughly at your hips. "Either be still while I fuck you or we're just gonna sit here like this all night with you keeping my dick warm until one of us fucking passes out and sweetheart, it ain't gonna be me"

Oh fuck.

Your legs are already like jelly from earlier and with the position he's got you in now they're already shaking with the effort to keep them open for him and you don't doubt he'll punish you for as long as he believes you can stand it so you're not about to take that chance.

"I'm sorry Daddy, please, I'll be so good for you. Please, please fuck me"

"That's better" he smirks. He snaps his hips again, another deep, hard thrust but this time not only is Dave holding your hips but you're prepared for it and brace yourself for the impact and thankfully you don't shift up the mattress this time.

"See, you can do it" Dave praises your efforts, rewarding you with another equally rough snap of his hips.

“God you’re so fucking deep” you groan out, eyes nearly rolling back into your head and he rewards you with another.

“Yeah, you feel me in there" he huffs a little laugh at your expense, hand leaving your hip to come down and pat against the lower part of your stomach just above your waistline. "Gonna rearrange your goddamn guts sweetheart” he threatens before he puts his hand back at your hip and really starts fucking you in earnest. He sets a ruthless pace immediately and he was right, you can practically feel him in your fucking stomach with every slam of his hips into yours, pushing so deep, so hard and so fast. Your little whines and whimpers only encourage him too. He likes you to be loud, to tell him how good it feels and makes it his mission to pull those sounds out of you.

And he does. You’re a whimpering, whining, mewling mess beneath him within minutes of this starting, making all kinds of desperate noises for him that you barely even recognize yourself.

“Taking me so good baby, fuck” he growls, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips while he pounds you into submission. You cry out when he hits a particularly deep spot and he takes that information and runs with it. Rutting into you over and over again at the same angle, teeth bared, neck veins prominent and breathing labored with his exerted efforts.

“Oh my god, right there, yes” you cry as you feel your walls begin to flutter. “Oh I’m so close”

"Let go baby, let go" Dave commands, slamming into you over and over. His right hand comes down so his thumb can press into your clit and you come almost immediately; hips arching off the bed as best they can given your position and Dave chases every last second of your release as you gush around him until your hips slow and you finally begin to settle again, little whimpers of 'oh my god' and Dave's name falling from your lips.

“Fuck!” Dave growls again and finally gives you some relief for your legs and untangles your limbs to wrap your legs around his waist instead as he begins to grind into you. "So good baby" he praises.

He continues to rut into you and it's not long before you're feeling another orgasm coming on on fast and strong, hot on the heels of your last one. His right hand leaves your hip and you hear some rustling around. You try to crane your neck the best you can to see what's going on but it turns out you don't need to see, the faint buzzing sound coming to life let's you know exactly what he'd been digging around your nightstand for.

"Want you to scream for me Sweetheart" Dave grunts as he lowers the bulbous head of the vibrator wand to your clit and presses down.

"Oh fuck!" You cry out, hips jolting at the sudden infliction but Dave brings his other hand to press down on your stomach, holding you still before he begins fucking into you again at the same angle as earlier. His hips thrust rough and fast while he presses the wand tightly against your clit and rubs it around in tight little circles, feeling your impending orgasm approach again as your legs tighten around his waist and he hears you gasp.

"Oh keep going, oh please, please, please" you cry, edging on the cusp of orgasm, every nerve ending in your body tingling and begging for release. Your toes curl inward and your ankles lock around the small of Dave's back as little white spots start to form around your vision when your eyes squeeze shut.

"Oh god, oh yes. Fuck, yes, yes, yes, ohhhhh!" You come with a scream, your orgasm lasting for several long seconds as your back arches off the bed and your hands fist into the bed covers beneath you. You can feel your release gushing out of you like a steady stream and you’re so fucked out you feel like you could pass out. Dave doesn't let up either. He thankfully tosses the toy aside but continues fucking you through it the whole time until your walls finally begin to unclench and the death grip your legs had around his waist loosens.

“Holy shit” you breathe out in a little laugh, your post orgasmic haze giving you the giggles. Dave slows, thankfully, to just lazy little thrusts. He’s still rock hard inside you so you know he hasn’t finished yet but he’s giving you some reprieve it seems, slowly fucking you down from your high.

Both his hands come to lay flat on your stomach and smooth upwards until he has your breasts in his large palms, gently massaging them in his grasp. “Look at you, fucking cockdrunk” Dave tuts, but you can see the little smile on his lips, pleased with himself that he’s gotten you into this euphoric state. You find it wildly arousing that he has zero qualms about using toys to help you achieve greater orgasms. Others you had been with in the past, Marcus excluded, had been weird about it. Almost jealous like they're in competition with an inanimate object. You found in your experience it took a confident man to use them with you and nothing was sexier than confidence. The wand itself had actually been a gift from Marcus and the two of you had used it on many occasions. You can't see him now from the way you're lying on the bed as he's behind you on the other side of the room but you don't doubt that little show likely really worked him up.

One of Dave's hand leaves your breast to grip around his cock as he pulls out of you, ignoring your little whine at the loss. Still hard and heavy in his own hand he slaps his dick against your clit once, twice and a final third time and something between a high-pitched gasp and a giggle escapes you with how oversensitive you are.

“Holy shit. I can’t, I can’t” you whimper giddily, wriggling in his grasp and your hand instinctively goes to your mound, cupping it to shield it from Dave's delightful torture.

“Sorry Pike,” Dave frowns as he speaks to your husbands but his eyes don’t leave you. “Think this pussy’s closed for business for tonight but don’t worry, her mouth is like a goddamn 7-11. Never fucking closes, isn’t that right baby?” Dave huffs a little laugh at you before yanking you upright on the bed by your arms. You let out a surprised little shriek, laughter bubbling out of you again as he positions you onto your knees in front of him.

“You wanna suck my cock Princess? Hmmm?” He asks, mouth at your neck now that you’re eye level with each other again and leaving little tiny nips and kisses down the side of it until he reaches your collarbone and then starts his ascent back up the way he came.

His hands come up between your bodies and grab for both breasts, pushing them together and massaging roughly in his large hands.

“Or I could fuck your tits” he breathes into your ear. “These perfect fucking tits” he praises, releasing one just long enough to be able to pinch and pull at the taught nipple and you whimper, pulling your lip between your teeth and wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Tell me what you want, baby. I’m feeling generous, since you were such a good girl for me. Taking me so well and cumming all over my cock" he whispers filthily against your ear before sucking the lobe into his mouth and moaning around it.

You take a minute to respond. You know what you want to say, you’re just working yourself up to say it out loud and maybe Dave can sense it in you because he doesn’t push, just waits for your answer he knows will come soon enough, whatever it is. You wrap your arms a little tighter and he reciprocates, letting go of your chest to wrap his arms around your back.

You hug him to you for long moments, hand pushing through his hair as he just nuzzles into your neck and lets you hold him.

“What is it baby?” He asks, surprisingly softly.

You take a deep breath.

“I think… I wanna try it tonight” you whisper into his ear and you feel his shoulders tense. He knows exactly what you’re referring to and he pushes away from you slightly until you’re face to face.

“Are you sure?” He asks, needing you to be one hundred percent certain.

You nod your head. “I’m ready, I want to” you tell him and his mouth is instantly on yours, kissing you soundly until he finally releases you and cradles your face in his hands, making eye contact with you searching your gaze for any lingering doubt that may be there.

“Will you just um… be gentle with me? I know you’ve wanted to do this for a while but,”

“I will” he affirms, cutting you off mid-sentence. He knows what you’re thinking. The way he’s spoken about it before, about ruining you. It was just that, talk. He’d never actually hurt you and he knows you’ve never done this before so he’ll go as slow as you need him to your first time and you can build up to everything else another time, only if you want of course.

You start unbuttoning his shirt, popping them open one by one in a line down his chest and he allows it, knowing your nerves are a little on edge and you just need a moment before the inevitable happens. Besides that he knows you prefer him naked rather than clothed while he’s with you and while sometimes he keeps them on, probably as a power move as much as anything else, other times he seems just as adamant as you are to feel you skin to skin.

Once you’ve got all the buttons free you push it from his shoulders and he shrugs it off the rest of the way and tosses it to the floor. Your hands go back to his shoulders and then smooth down the hard plane of his chest, his softer stomach and then finally rest at the waistband of his pants that are surprisingly still mostly in place, just his button and fly open and the front of his boxers shoved down just enough so that his now semi-hard cock hangs free.

He’s being surprisingly patient with you, letting you do whatever you want with him and it’s rare that he does so you take your time with it. You lean forward and bring your mouth to his jaw, peppering kisses to it while your hands busy themselves shoving his pants and boxers down his thighs and he helps by shoving them the rest of the way down and kicking out of them. Your mouth trails down to the column of his throat where you kiss and lick and suck on every inch of him and your right hand goes to his cock and begins stroking him to full mast once again.

"Can I suck you a little bit first?" You ask sweetly, voice barely above a whisper. He knows it's to buy yourself some time as much as anything else but he nods his head and plants a kiss into your hair.

"Of course you can baby"

You get down on all fours and promptly take him into your mouth. He moans as your lips envelop him and your warm tongue strokes along his length but unlike usual he doesn't grab your hair or force himself down your throat, just lets you go at your own pace while he leans back and enjoys every second.

"That's good baby, suck that cock, just like that" he hums his praise for you, eyes closed and one hand gently stroking through your hair. You moan into him, always eager for any praise he gives you, and bring your hand up to wrap around whatever part of him doesn't fit into your mouth and time your strokes with the bobs of your head while you swallow him down. After a couple of minutes you're feeling your nerves settle again and your actions slow to take him long and deep into your throat a few times before you finally pull back and pepper little kisses to the tip instead, tongue darting out to give tiny kitten licks to his leaking slit.

"Feel better now?" Dave chuckles at you, hand wrapping gently around your chin to tilt your face up to look at him. "Just needed a taste of your Daddy's cock, hmm?"

"Yes" you're smiling widely up at him, gaze trained on his as your tongue sticks out for one final lick. "Tastes so good"

"I'm gonna get you ready now, ok?" He explains and you nod your head, feeling ready to get started. "Turn around" he instructs next and you obey, staying on hands and knees but turning to face the opposite direction. Your gaze falls on Marcus finally for pretty much the first time since you'd come up to the bedroom. He's down to just his t-shirt and boxer briefs and he's slowly palming and stroking himself over top of the black cotton.

"Hi baby" he smiles at you before he pushes himself up from the chair, takes the few small steps to the edge of the bed and then leans down, wrapping a hand around your chin and then kissing you soundly. You moan into his mouth, pleased to grant access to his tongue as it seeks out and entangles with yours. While Marcus distracts you with his kisses Dave starts massaging the globes of your ass and gently spreading your cheeks, repeating the action a few times and you're smiling into Marcus' lips as he continues to swallow down all your little moans.

"Oh!" you let out a little gasp and your body jerks as you feel the hot wet press of what can only be Dave's tongue suddenly against you, licking a long, slow stripe with the flat of his tongue.

"Oh fuck" you whimper in a little cry, lips breaking away from Marcus to pull your bottom lip between your teeth, your eyes closing without your permission when Dave groans his appreciation for your taste into your tight hole. His hands continue to massage as his tongue licks and prods at your entrance and a shudder racks your entire body

"Oh my god baby, fuck" Marcus breathes, planting his lips to your forehead and holding your face in his large hands. "Feels good huh?"

"Mmm hmm," you manage with a broken sob. "Oh my god, fuck, fuck, fuck." With all the territory you had ventured into with Dave so far, rimming had not been a part of it yet and it's not even something you knew you wanted or needed so desperately until this moment.

"God that feels so good, fuck!" you curse, letting Dave know exactly how good he's making you feel and you feel as much as you hear him chuckle a little laugh against you but he otherwise doesn't let up. His tongue alternates between stiffening and relaxing as he licks and kisses and nudges at the tight ring of muscle and your whole body trembles with the effort to keep yourself upright, your limbs turning to jelly as he slowly licks you open.

"Shit" Marcus groans, all your little whines and whimpers driving him mad with want. Despite what he told himself for tonight he can't help it any longer. His hand leaves your face and goes to tug his boxers down to his thigh as he wraps a hand around the base of his leaking cock and squeezes. "Baby, please" he whines, not needing to elaborate. You already know exactly what he needs so when he kneels on the bed right in front of you, you waste no time in lowering your head to take his throbbing length into your mouth.

"Oh yeah, fuck baby" Marcus breathes, head falling back as his hand gently plays in your hair. "Oh you feel so good" he praises, sounding wrecked already. In his defence the two of you have been abstaining for far too long and he's already had to witness you through multiple orgasms tonight, you're surprised he's held out as long as he has.

Dave's tongue finally leaves you as he pulls back slightly and you hear him let out a low whistle when he sees you with Marcus halfway down your throat at the other end of the bed. "Perfect goddamn slut you are" he growls before he nips playfully at the meat of your left cheek and you jump slightly, needing to pull off of Marcus for a second when you let out a little laugh.

"Who says you get to have all the fun?" You tease and that earns you another little nip, this time to the other cheek.

"Fun? Baby I haven't even begun to have my fun with this sweet little ass yet" He chuckles before landing a light swat with his right palm and then grabs a handful of your ass in a quick squeeze. "Now you get back to minding your own business up there and leave me to mine back here" he orders, giving you another quick little swat and you gasp out but then quickly obey, lips enveloping around Marcus' length again and moaning around him as you take him as deeply down your throat as you can and begin to suck.

"Fuck, slow baby, slow" Marcus hisses, hand gripping into your hair and easing you off of him. "I wanna last"

"Sorry" you giggle. "Just taste so good baby" you hum against him before peppering little kisses and licks to his tip. You're distracted, momentarily, when you feel oily slick fingers at your hole, Dave gently smearing the lubricant around and you swallow down a moan, your eyes closing again as you anticipate what's to come. His fingers leave you for a moment and you hear the lid of the bottle snap shut again and the distinct lewd sounds of Dave pumping his own cock as he coats himself with the lube.

"Relax now for me baby, just like we practiced" Dave says calmly, fingers coming to gently trace and prod at your entrance. You moan and then needing the distraction, your mouth wraps around Marcus again, this time taking him slowly. Only about half of his length fits comfortably in your mouth and you gently begin to bob your head up and down on him as Dave continues to tease your asshole.

"Ohhhh, that's it" Marcus breathes out, both hands in your hair now gently gathering it so he can hold it in one and get a better view of you swallowing him down. "Just like that, nice and slow" he praises.

"Nice and slow," Dave reiterates as he gently and slowly pushes his index finger inside of you all the way to his second knuckle and he smirks as he hears you moaning around Marcus. He pumps his digit in and out a few times and when it begins to slide in and out easily he adds his second finger as well, stilling them inside you a moment to get used to them until he feels your muscles relax again.

"That's my good girl, you can take it" he praises as he slowly starts to pump them into you. "Gonna feel so good around my cock baby" he groans.

"Oh my god," you whimper, needing to pull off of Marcus for a moment as Dave continues working you open, fingers alternating from pumping in and out of you to scissoring you open. You crane your neck around best you can to look back at him, mouth hanging open and eyes half lidded as they fall on Dave who looks deeply concentrated as he buries his fingers in your ass.

"Do you want your toy for a bit first?" He asks, referring to the plug he's bought you but you quickly shake your head.

"Just want you, please"

Surprisingly you don’t feel that nervous. You’d had enough “practice” now with Dave, as he liked to call it, the last few times you’d seen him and occasionally on your own when the mood struck you and so now you're feeling ready. You tried not to get in your head though, didn’t go into tonight assuming this would happen, though you wanted it to and had gotten yourself prepared earlier just in case. You just told yourself if you wanted to go for it, you could but if not, you didn’t have to. You didn’t mention it to Dave or even Marcus beforehand, in case you didn’t end up wanting to going through with it. You didn’t want any added pressure.

“Help her relax,” Dave directs Marcus calmly and Marcus nods, his free hand smoothing down your back in a gentle caress.

“I’ve got you baby, I'm right here” he whispers and you smile, turning back to him, your head tilting up so your gaze finds his above you.

“I know”

Dave gently removes his fingers from you and you feel it then, the press of his tip gently notching at your entrance.

“Ok?” He asks as he smooths his hands over your ass and begins a gentle massage.

“Yeah,” you nod.

“If you want to stop, just say the word. I promise I’ll stop”

“I know” you confirm, turning your head back to make eye contact with him.

“Ok” he nods and then wraps his right hand around his shaft while his left helps spread your cheeks open and he tentatively pushes forward. The tip of his dick kisses at your puckered hole and despite what you told yourself a million times you weren’t going to do, you feel your body tense at the threat of intrusion.

“Relax baby” Dave soothes, tip still resting just outside your entrance as his hand smooths down your hip. “You’ve gotta relax your muscles, I don’t want it to hurt you”

“I know, I’m sorry” you take a steadying breath and close your eyes turning back towards Marcus in an attempt to let all your anxiety out.

“Don’t apologize” Dave tells you softly, giving your hip a little squeeze. “You’re ok baby”

You look up to Marcus again, silent plea behind your eyes and he flashes you a warm smile, knowing what you need.

His hand leaves your back and he brings it to his mouth, sucking two fingers into it and then reaching underneath you until his digits find your aching clit and begin to gently circle the needy little bundle of nerves and a string of small little whimpers leave your lips.

“That’s better isn’t it. You like when Marcus plays with your little pussy, baby?” Dave begins again, slipping back into his role as his head notches at your entrance again and his hand goes back to smoothing over the rounded curve of your ass.

“Mmm hmm” your eyes close voluntarily as Marcus lulls you into a comforting bliss by his little barely-there touches below you. His free hand goes to stroke himself and your eyes open when he positions his leaking member back to your face. You surge forward, eager to have him back in your mouth and a long moan escapes you as your lips fully envelop him once more.

“Feels good, huh? Fingers in your needy little cunt, cock shoved deep in that pretty mouth” Dave comments and you can practically hear him grinning.

He’s distracting you, and to his credit, it’s working. Your eyes close again, your muscles relax and this time when Dave begins to push past the tight ring of muscle your body doesn’t fight it and he’s able to sink his head all the way inside.

“Fuuuckkkkk” Dave groans, looking down to see his tip disappear inside your ass.

“So good for me baby” he praises, leaning down to place a kiss on your back before straightening back up again so he can watch what he's doing. “You look so fucking good stretched around my cock, Jesus Christ”

“Oh my god” you whine, lips popping off of Marcus momentarily. There’s a stretch for sure and it’s borderline painful but he also feels really fucking good and you need more of it. You know you can take him further and that the more you take, the better it's going to feel and your body will adjust until it’s only pleasure you’re feeling.

“More, I can take more!” you plead.

“God Damn baby, didn’t I tell you one day you’d be begging me to fuck this tight little asshole” he grins as he pushes in further still until he’s about halfway and begins to give you shallow little thrusts.

“Oh yeah, take it, just like that. Fuck,” he curses, hands going to your waist to grip at your hips.

You begin to whimper and whine and rock your hips into Dave while Marcus continues to tease your clit and everything feels so good everywhere you don’t know where to look or who to cry out to so you just close your eyes instead and let your body absorb all the pleasure it’s receiving. Your mouth goes back to Marcus, sloppily sucking and sliding him down your throat as he helps by rutting his hips into you, knowing whatever ounce of concentration you did have was gone out the window the moment Dave sunk his cock inside you.

“Oh god you’re so fucking good, my beautiful girl” Dave groans, sliding in further still and your brain, as fucked out as it may be in this moment, doesn’t fail to notice the new little endearment that’s slipped from him.

Whore? Slut? Baby? Sure. But.. Beautiful girl? My beautiful girl? No, that was definitely new.

He keeps up his steady pace, rocking into you and sliding in just a little further each time until he’s fully sheathed inside and can start fucking you in earnest now that you’re freely moaning and whimpering beneath him he knows there’s no more discomfort, only pleasure. He arches his spine, one hand on his own lower back to control the push of his hips and the other holds your hip as he slowly rocks in and out of you, holding back his own release by no small amount of effort while he waits for you to finally peak once more. You’re close, he knows. Have been for several minutes as your whole body writhes below him, fingers gripping at the bed sheets, leg muscles trembling and back arching to push your ass further against him, he sees how close to the edge you are on every inch of your body.

“Feels so good. Fuck, fuck, fuck” you cry out, mouth tearing off of Marcus once more as you attempt to look behind you. You're so close to finishing but trying to hold out as long as possible. Having both Marcus and Dave pleasuring you at the same time might be your favorite thing in the whole world. “Oh my god, keep going, please!”

“Yeah you love being so fucking full of me, don’t you?” Dave huffs.

“Mmmhmm” you bite your lip. “I love it. Love taking your big cock in my ass”

“Jesus fuck!” You hear Marcus groan above you and he takes himself in hand and gives a few hasty tugs.

“Yeah you're not the only one who fucking loves it" Dave laughs at how wrecked the younger mans become. “Suck his cock baby, want him to cum so I can fuck you properly and he can watch how good this tight little asshole swallows my whole goddamn cock”

"Oh fuck," Marcus groans as you take him back into your eager mouth. Your hand wraps around the base and strokes in time with your mouth as you slide up and down his length taking as much as of him as you can, sucking and licking and swallowing him down with renewed enthusiasm.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum" Marcus whines, hand gently threading through your hair again as he continues to pump his hips. "Baby," he lets out as a final warning but you don't let off, just continue sucking him until he surges forward with a final groan and stills his hips as he lets go and you eagerly suck and lick every last drop from him, finally pulling off with a pop and a strangled breath leaving your lips from your effort.

"Oh my god," Marcus groans, sitting back on his heels. "Fucking incredible baby" he hums, hand leaving your hair to cup your cheek. Dave has stilled inside you, apparently needing a minute himself as his own impending orgasm looms threateningly.

"Turn over baby, get comfortable up at the top of the bed" Dave instructs next, slowly pulling out of you and you can feel every ridge and vein as he slowly drags his cock out of you. You whimper at the loss but obey, crawling up to the head of the bed and laying down on your back, head nestling into the pillows.

Finally Dave crawls up onto the bed himself, on his knees as he comes to settle between your legs, Marcus still sitting back on his heels next to him now.

"Still good?" Dave checks in, slowly smoothing his hands up and down your thighs.

"Mmm hmm," you nod your head eagerly, reaching out to place your hands on his forearms.

"Good" Dave gives you a little smile and then grabs at your calves, bringing your legs up to rest on his shoulders and then using his hand to line himself back up at your entrance. He pauses for a moment and reaches over to the earlier discarded bottle of lubricant and squeezes a few drops onto himself, coating his shaft liberally before tossing the bottle aside again. He pushes forward with one long forceful thrust, fully sheathing himself back into your used hole and a guttural moan escapes you when he fully bottoms out, his whole body leaned over you pressing your knees into your shoulders with how he has you practically folded in half.

"Shit" Dave growls and then presses further forward, lips capturing yours in a heated kiss and you both swallow each others moans. "Are you ready?" He asks, pulling back slightly and you nod your head. He pulls his hips back and then begins rocking into you. Slow, deep and hard thrusts in a steady rhythm that has your mouth falling open as you pant and gasp beneath him, hands gripping at his shoulders, elbows, the back of his head, whatever body part of his you can reach to grab hold of.

"God I love fucking you" he confesses in a breathy whisper, burying his face in your throat. "You're so goddamn perfect"

You whimper at his praise, hands burying in his hair as you hold him close and take every thrust he has to give you. His breath is coming out hard and fast against your throat as he loses himself fucking into you.

"Not... gonna last" he groans and brings a hand into the limited space between your bodies so he can rub your clit, desperate to get you over the edge before he falls over it himself.

"Oh, yes, right there" you whine as his deft fingers press deliciously into the perfect spot, pads of his fingers rotating in small precise circles with a steadying pressure and it's not long before you fall apart once more, a strangled sob leaving your throat.

"Good girl. Good fucking girl" He growls, removing his hand and giving a few more forceful thrusts before he pulls out of you, gets up on his knees and begins jerking his cock until ropes of his cum paint your stomach.

"Fuck," he groans, milking himself of every last drop, his free hand coming down to grip at your hip. You watch him above you as he falls apart, beautifully blissed out expression on his handsome face as his gaze locks onto yours, never faltering. "Oh my god you did so good" he praises, hand letting go of his spent dick and he wraps his arm around Marcus' shoulders next to him like he might fall over if he doesn't have something to hang onto. "Fuck she's amazing" Dave murmurs to Marcus, giving his far shoulder a squeeze.

“Let me get a towel” Marcus offers, pushing himself off the bed. He walks up to the head of the bed first and leans down to kiss your forehead before he heads off to the bathroom and you hear the water begin running.

"C'mere" you tell Dave, reaching your arms out to him and surprisingly he leans down into you so you can wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him down to rest on top of you. He pushes his hands underneath you, up your back to your shoulders between you and the mattress to hold you while keeping himself slightly propped up on his elbows now to keep from crushing you while he nuzzles into the side of your face.

“Are you okay Sweetheart?” He asks, a soft whisper against your ear, just wanting to make sure he wasn’t too rough with you.

You nod against him. “It was perfect, you were perfect” you praise him for once, pressing a kiss into his temple and then running a hand through his hair.

He hums into your skin and you continue to just hold him and stroke through his hair. He’s rightfully exhausted after what he just put you through and you’ve noticed he never really takes any time for himself afterwards. He always just puts his clothes back on and is out the door while his cum is still drying on whatever body part of yours he spilled it on so now while you’ve got him in your arms you want to keep him there for as long as he’ll allow it.

Neither of you have noticed either that the water had stopped running in the ensuite. Marcus stands at the doorway that joins the two rooms, leaning against it and just letting the two of you have your moment. He knows he’s particularly needy after he cums, demanding of your attention and needing to be wrapped up with you immediately after which tends to leave Dave to have no choice but push himself up out of the bed and leave the couple in love to have their private intimate moment. He supposes he’s never thought about it from either of your perspectives before or what you might want. He never pegged Dave for the warm and cuddly type but watching the two of you now he thinks maybe there’s a lot more to him than what’s just apparent on the surface.

At the end of the day Dave wasn’t just some whore you paid for a night to spice up your married life. He was your friend. A person with real feelings and emotions beyond just physical desires, presumably. Marcus had already begun to feel himself getting a little more attached to Dave with each time you all saw each other and it was obvious to him that you were growing attached as well. He doesn’t know what the feeling he has is when he’s around Dave. It’s not overtly sexual, though he won’t deny that it does come into play occasionally in the heat of the moment and he certainly doesn’t dislike it. It’s more of an affection, he supposes. He has affection for Dave. Cares for him, more than he knows simple ‘friends’ or work colleagues do for each other.

He watches a moment longer as the two of you lie in each other's embrace and joke and laugh in little whispers that Marcus’ ears can’t pick up and he can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips. Maybe he should be jealous, because that’s normally him you’re doing that with while Dave is halfway down the driveway, but he’s not jealous. Seeing the two people he cares so much for being happy, simply put, it makes him happy.

He pushes off the doorframe and finally wanders into the room, two warm washcloths in his hands.

“Here,” he offers, standing next to the bed and Dave pushes himself up slightly off of you as you both turn towards Marcus.

Dave accepts the warm towel from Marcus and rolls off of you onto his back on the other side and gets to task of cleaning himself off while Marcus takes a seat down at the edge of the bed next to your hip and gently starts brushing the washcloth over your stomach, between your legs and pushing further back to clean up any of the leftover oily slick from the lubricant.

“You did so good baby” Marcus is grinning as he continues to carefully wipe the cloth around you.

“She did do good. Very good,” Dave adds, looking over at you and placing a hand on the top of your thigh and giving a gentle squeeze. “You been practicing without me?” He asks, referring to the toy he bought you that you had used a couple of times with him now.

You give a shy little nod of your head at his question and his eyebrows raise as he turns his gaze to Marcus.

“Not with me” Marcus pipes up innocently, raising his hands in the air and a hint of laughter in his tone.

“I may have just… worn it around the house a bit the last couple days while Marcus was at work, you know just doing housework and stuff” you admit shyly, shrugging your shoulders and pulling your bottom lip between your teeth and Dave lets out a long groan, covering his face with his hands as he lets his head fall back into the pillows.

“Jesus you’re gonna get me fucking hard again”

“Mmm, maybe that was my plan all along” you begin teasingly, your own hand landing on his thigh and grabbing a handful of meaty flesh close enough to his groin that his hips jerk involuntarily. “Keep you here all night with us”

He laughs at that. “Babydoll you couldn’t handle me all night” he teases. “Wouldn’t be a hole of yours left that I didn’t ruin”

“Hey, don’t threaten me with a good time” you tease right back. “Besides, my gorgeous husband here knows just how to kiss me all better, don’t you baby?” You ask, eyes peering up at Marcus who’s still got an ear-to-ear smile on his face.

“Guilty as charged” Marcus sighs and then playfully sticks his tongue out at you.

Despite your little half-joking, half-serious comments Dave pushes himself up out of the bed and begins wandering the room and picking up all his scattered clothing and getting redressed and you ignore the way your heart drops a little bit in your chest that he has to go, though you know he needs to. That’s how this goes between the three of you.

You push yourself up into a seated position, knees up and hands wrapped around your legs as you rest your cheek on top of your knee watching Dave as he does up the final couple of buttons on his shirt until he’s looking no worse for the wear again.

“See you in two weeks then?” He asks casually, looking over to you and Marcus.

“Oh, actually it's her birthday in two weeks” Marcus mentions, a smile spreading at his lips. He always loved spoiling you on your birthday and you don’t doubt whatever surprise he has planned for you this year will be as good as every previous one.

“Oh, well, happy almost birthday then” Dave winks at you. “So in a month then” he shrugs and you have to actively stop your face from frowning.

A month?!

It made sense though. You knew now that Dave got his children every other weekend and with your busy weekday work lives the weekends made the most sense so that’s how the whole ‘every two weeks’ had started in the first place but with your birthday coming up you wouldn’t dream of asking Marcus to change any plans around to incorporate Dave into your weekend because knowing Marcus he would, even if did or didn’t want to. He’s likely had whatever he was going to do for your birthday planned for months, he always did, and you wouldn’t ask him to change that.

“Sounds good” Marcus confirms for you both and he stands up from the bed, leaving room so Dave can come over and say goodbye to you.

Dave crosses the room, brings a single finger down to your chin and lifts it up towards him then leans in and presses a quick kiss to your lips and pulls away with a little wink.

“Get your rest now baby, you deserve it”

“Night Dave” you offer him a small smile and try not to let the disappointment show on your face.

“‘Till next time then?” He says to Marcus as they face each other halfway between the bed and the bedroom door.

“‘Till next time” Marcus nods and lands a hand on Dave’s shoulder and gives a quick squeeze before he releases him. “Do you mind just hitting the lock button on the keypad on your way out?”

“Yeah I got it” Dave nods. “Goodnight” he offers one final time with a quick wave of his hand towards the both of you then turns on his heel and he’s out the door, heavy footfalls echoing down the stairs.

Marcus makes his way over to you and you reach for him, wrapping your hands around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. "Will you take a bath with me, Husband?” You ask sweetly against his lips. Nearly all your muscles are sore after the vigorous sexcapades you just endured and you could use a good soak, not to mention a more thorough cleaning than just a washcloth between your legs from all the sweat and saliva and whatever remnants of any other fluids may be left behind on your body.

“Sounds like heaven, baby” he smiles warmly at you.

*****

The next morning you wake up to a text from Dave in your group chat checking in with you, asking if you're ok and how you're feeling this morning. You try to ignore the little flutter in your chest as you read over his words several more times than necessary, biting back the little smile that tugs at your lips while arousal begins to pool in your lower belly when memories from last night come flooding back to you. You decide you'll reply to him later when you can form a coherent thought. For now, you need to wake up your husband. Again.

This was a loooong chapter. Thanks for sticking with it to the end! By the way, let me know in a reply or a message if you're interested in more physical/sexual interaction between Dave and Marcus, or if you prefer it how it is now. I've been debating with this aspect of the story for a while but ultimately I'm writing it for you guys so... let me know what you want!

Taglist (if you want to be added, lmk!) @senaar-ika @suzdin @boliv-jenta @prolix-yuy @vabeachazn @seasonalobession @pedroshotwifey @nerdieforpedro @chronically-ghosted @macabremads @survivingandenduring @theywhowriteandknowthings @axshadows @iamasaddie @vickywallace @lincolndjarin @its-nebuleuse

Next Chapter

[achaotichuman]

Do you think you could write about dehlia in this context: https://www.tumblr.com/praetorqueenreyna/737196004108058624?source=share, hopefully featuring deadbeat at first mom feyre, horrified stepdad rhysand, tired of it all tamlin and a supportive lucien/eris.

This has been sitting, marinating in my drafts. But it is finally complete. I am fully aware I fucked up the timeline here, but I'm not rewriting all of this, so we're gonna pretend that fancy Fae tests can reveal a pregnancy at four weeks instead of eight like the post said.

And disclaimer before anyone calls for my head, for this fic I am also rewriting Ianthe's character, because she is too interesting for me to just write off as a sex offender and never think about again. Also, it is very interesting to see her as a genuinely morally grey person with good intentions. So, in this fic, she never SAs Lucien, but she does get a cool plot twist so stay tuned for that.

Basically, I have turned this into a rewrite of Acomaf and Acowar. A lot of the events were written from pure memory, and asking Tumblr, so forgive me if some scenes from the OG series were left out or written significantly differently. We mostly got Feyre's version of events anyway, so I'm not too worried.

This will be split into several chapters. Three being for the Mist and Fury rewrite, and then two for the Wings and Ruin rewrite. And if I have time, I'll do an Acofas rewrite. I'll be uploading all three of the Mist and Fury chapters today, and linking them in this post. You can also find it on SquidgeWorld here, and Ao3 here.

Anyway, here is the long-awaited fic, anon. And @r-biter, thank you for the original post, I hope I do it justice. Also @praetorqueenreyna who reblogged the original post.

Also, did I turn this into a Tamcien fic? Yes, of course I did.

A Field of Dahlias

“Are you alright with this?” He asked, it may have been the hundredth time he asked, Feyre gave him the same exasperated eyes she had given him all night long. 

Everything pointed to her being more than alright with this. Him pressed into the sheets below her, their clothes forgotten on the floor, her eyes glazed with lust. The rush of new hormones in her head no doubt fuelled the arousal that was now pressed against his wet slit. She leaned down, teeth a touch sharper than normal. She kissed his neck, dragging her canines along his fluttering pulse like he would for her. 

She ran her now larger hands down his slightly smaller than normal frame. Hands finding his breasts and squeezing relentlessly, pinching his nipples, her rough fingers, calloused from years of work from before she had been turned fae. Tamlin bit down on his lip, not wanting the whimper that pressed against his vocal cords to be released. A part of him still didn’t understand the switch in the power dynamic and begged to flip her over, to shift them both back to normal and continue this the way he knew well. 

But he didn’t, he remained underneath Feyre. Her chest flatter, set a touch wider, her shoulders broader. Her hips, now more narrow, rocked forward ever so slightly, as if on their own accord, as if her body was begging to bury the length now resting between her legs into the tight warmth before her. 

“I’m fine, more than fine, like I’ve said a hundred times already.” She added an eye roll to the last part, Tamlin countered it with his own. 

“Fine, but if you want to stop at anytime-”

“Are you okay with this, Tam?” She asked, hands becoming more gentle, roaming his skin like she loved it, like she cared. 

It was still new, the loving and the caring, the likes of which Tamlin hadn’t felt in years. 

“I’m okay.” Tamlin said, forcing his voice to remain steady. He loosened a breath, then spread his thighs wider. 

“Well?” He asked, adding a grin to his words, “Lets see how sloppy your form is, wicked creature.”

Feyre gave him her own wild grin, eyes filled with that lust and love. Something caring and devoted in her face, she leaned down and put her face into the crook of his neck, licking at the skin in a careful, deliberate manner. 

“Let’s see how well you hold up, Faerie Lord.” 

***

Tamlin shuffled a few papers on his desk. Briefly glancing over all of them before sorting them into piles and picking up the one closest to his left. With nimble fingers he paged them apart and began to read each complaint. A sigh escaping his throat. 

He tried to ease the worry sitting low in his belly but it wouldn’t relent, as the pile of complaints grew higher, the headache pounding behind his eyes tightened. 

After he was done reading the letters, he moved to open a drawer in his desk. Then the feeling of his stomach lurching overwhelmed his senses. Nausea made his legs shake, he retched, then quickly slapped his palm over his mouth before winnowing to the nearby bathroom. 

He had all of about three seconds before he was bent over the toilet, vomiting until he was shaking so badly he could barely stand on his knees. He dry heaved for a minute before finally his body relented and he slumped back, panting heavily, beats of sweat gathering on his forehead. 

“Gods dammit.” He cursed, forcing himself to his feet and quickly cleaning up. 

As he rinsed out his mouth, a pain shot up his spine and the sickness returned with a festering wrath. Tamlin groaned, a low sound from the back of his throat, he gripped the sides of the sink. 

***

It didn’t relent, the sickness came and went throughout the days. Tamlin thought he could handle it. Thought he could make it through the seemingly endless hours without anyone knowing something was amiss. 

“Two of you will head for the south border and I will send another group towards-” Tamlin was cut off by bile rising quickly in his throat, burning him from the inside out. He couldn’t get another word out before he sprinted back inside. Leaving five very confused sentries outside. 

He rushed past several servants, all of which stopped to stare in concern. Tamlin ignored all of them. 

It was Alis that didn’t stare. Rather broke into a sprint after him. The Summer Faery found Tamlin practically doubled over while he emptied the contents of his stomach. Alis snapped in a gasp, then quickly ran over to pull back his hair, sticking to his face from sweat. 

“Tam…” She murmured. 

Tamlin could barely see, the world tipping from one side to the other. 

“Why are you staring?” Alis shouted at somebody, or somebodies at the door. Tamlin had enough sense to look back over his shoulder. He saw several servants who were loitering at the door, wondering what exactly was happening. 

“Leave this instant, go back to your duties.” She shouted, then quickly slammed the door, everyone scattered as quickly as possible. 

Tamlin panted as he sat back on his heels, tilting his head to the ceiling, “Gods.”

“Tamlin, are you alright?” Alis asked, helping him onto his shaking feet. He wanted to shove away from her and insist he was fine, but he was still getting his bearings back and the world was too bright, and he had a headache. 

She led him to the sink and coaxed him into washing up. Tamlin splashed his face with ice water, and rinsed out his mouth. Then he looked up to see the mirror. 

Gods, he hadn’t realised how little sleep he had been getting until he saw the deep purple under his eyes. The gauntness in them, along with his too pale face, made him resemble something of a ghost. 

“I…” 

“Tam.” She murmured. Putting a hand to his forehead, the rough bark of her hands rubbing against the soft skin. She furrowed her eyebrows, “You don’t have a temperature. 

“I’m fine, Alis.” He said. 

She breathed in deeply, face carefully controlled, “You need to see a healer. I will call for one-”

She turned to leave, but Tamlin took hold of her wrist. The light shining from Faelights in the bathroom too bright, he was so tired. 

“I don’t need a healer, Alis. It’s nothing.” He told her. Ignoring the image of himself in the mirror, ignoring that fact he knew very well that he did not look fine.

Still Alis wouldn’t go against his orders. She sighed, shoulders slumping slightly, her eyes cast downwards, “Just… fine then. Just please see one if this gets worse.”

Tamlin bit down on the inside of his cheek, but nodded all the same. 

***

It got worse, and there wasn’t anything he could do to hide it from anybody too close. 

So he locked himself in his study or his room, and tried to focus on anything else. Anything other than the constant headache pounding behind his eyes. The never-ending wish to lay in his bed and sleep until his days ended, and the constant vomiting. 

It didn’t relent, instead it worsened. 

Alis found him again. In the bathroom in his room. When she spotted his hair, dirty and tangled, eye bags even darker and skin paler than ever. She narrowed her eyes, but quickly tied back his hair. Once he was done, she told him, “We’re getting a healer.”

Tamlin wanted to protest again, but he was so tired. So he said nothing, instead he slumped against the nearest wall and closed his eyes. 

Why was this happening? Now of all times, when he needed to be alert for his Court. For the people who were still recovering. 

“It’s just stress.” Tamlin told Alis as she put a dampened cloth to his forehead. 

“I would still like for you to see a healer.” 

‘I don’t believe a word you say’, is what that meant. Tamlin chuckled, but the sound was hollow. 

“Alis, I-”

“Hush now, child.” She murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair away from his face as she sat down beside him, “I’ll call a healer, we will figure out what is happening.”

It felt too familiar. Like the days spent in his childhood when he and Alis would sit on the ground in the gardens, whilst she sang him songs in a language he didn’t know at the time. A language she had taught him, so he could sing with her. 

It was too nostalgic. He didn’t deserve to feel that love again. That deep rooted, innocent love, it belonged to the child that hadn’t been stained by the world. 

It belonged to the kid that hadn’t been ruined in every sense of the word. 

Alis didn’t seem to care in the slightest. She took in her hands three strands of blond hair and began to weave a braid. 

“It’ll be okay.” She assured him. 

Tamlin scoffed, he felt her fingers pause in his hair, so he mumbled, “Nothing seems okay now.”

Alis tilted her head slightly, to see his eyes better. Her brown irises rose to meet his green ones. Alis reached out, her rough fingertips caressing the side of his face ever so softly. 

“It will.” She whispered, “It will get better, Tam.”

***

The healer that he saw was named Heilda, she was a short sweet-faced lesser Fae with fluttering mosaic wings and short near white curly hair. Her eyes were all black and her teeth were sharpened. Tamlin was sitting in her office, in a small cottage in the middle of one of the busiest villages, close to the Manor. One of his hands rubbed his temple while the other tapped his leg. 

Lucien had dropped him off at Heilda’s residence before leaving to inform Alis he had indeed gone to the healer and not run off. Tamlin had then insisted he didn’t need to, but the headache came back, and Tamlin was powerless to stop the determined redhead. 

“How long has the vomiting been happening?” Heilda asked. 

The High lord bit the inside of his cheek, quickly thinking back on the past few months since they left the Mountain, “Give or take a month and a half.”

She quickly jotted that down in a leatherback notebook in her hands, then asked, “I’ve also been told you’ve been experiencing severe headaches? How long has that been happening?”

Tamlin shrugged, “I’ve had them all my life, just recently they’re occurring more and more.”

Heilda nodded as she jot notes down in her leather book, before turning to a variety of medicinal herbs and bottles of strangely coloured liquids. 

She rifled through a few before taking a mortar and pestle and began to grind a mixture of dried plants and herbs, asking questions as she did. 

“Have there been any recent changes in diet?” 

“No,” Unless Alis was slowly poisoning him, but he didn’t think her the killer type. 

“Drinking water regularly?” 

“Yes.”

“Have you been sleeping properly?”

Tamlin almost answered yes, then he remembered the nightmares that riddled his sleep, “...No.”

“Alright, that could be one cause, but from the extent of your headaches I’m inclined to believe there could be something else.” She took the herbal mixture and went to a fireplace where a small cauldron bubbled incessantly, “I’d like to run a few tests, my Lord.”

“Whatever you need to do.” He said. 

She took a blood and urinary sample. Tamlin waited for what felt like hours as she put them through several tests, mostly mixing strange things together and watching what happened. Occasionally noting reactions. Tamlin was bored out of his wits, staring at the ceiling, Heilda had given him some strange purple tea, it eased the pressure in his head and the nausea in his stomach, thankfully. 

There was a light rapping on the door, followed by a very familiar voice, “Lady Heilda, I was sent by Alis.”

“Come in, Lord Lucien.” Was all Heilda said, not looking up from her work. 

Lucien opened the door, his eyes immediately drawn to Tamlin and the drink in his hand. He nodded to it, a silent question, Tamlin just shrugged and jutted his head in the direction of Heilda. 

Lucien sat down in a chair beside Tamlin, “How are you doing?”

“Better since drinking this thing.” He said, showing Lucien the painted mug. Lucien nodded. 

“What's happening now?” He asked. 

“Heilda’s running tests, hopefully we’ll know what’s causing the nausea, we can fix it, then be on our merry way.” Tamlin said, drinking the last of the strange tea.

That was when Heilda clicked her tongue, “I don’t believe this is a problem we can simply fix, my Lord.”

She spun around in her chair, “I believe this problem will be a bit bigger than originally considered.”

Lucien and Tamlin furrowed their brows, glancing at each other before eyeing the healer worriedly. It was Lucien who asked, “And what is the problem exactly?”

Heilda took in a breath, seemingly steeling herself, as if on instinct, Lucien took Tamlin’s hand in his own. Holding him tightly. 

“My Lord,” She said, addressing Tamlin, “Have you shapeshifted into a female form, sometime within the last five or six weeks?”

Tamlin was taken aback by the question, he blinked at her, hand tightening in Lucien’s, “I mean… yes, but I’ve done it before, I don’t know how it could cause any issues. Especially not…” He counted the weeks since that night with Feyre, “Six weeks later.”

Now Heilda snapped in a deep breath, “This may be an uncomfortable question, but did you have any penetrative intercourse whilst in female form?”

“You’re right, that is an uncomfortable question.” Tamlin said, blinking at the healer like she had grown a second head, “That shouldn’t have anything to do with my symptoms.”

“Just trust her, Tam.” Lucien said, squeezing his hand in an assuring manner. 

“I just need a yes or no answer.” Heilda said gently. 

Tamlin sighed deeply, eyes squeezing shut, “Yes. Feyre is a shapeshifter as well.”

Heilda nodded, then leaned back in her chair, “Did you use any contraceptives this night in question?”

Now Tamlin gritted his teeth, “What does this-”

“Tam.” Lucien said gently. Tamlin looked over at his friend and sighed. 

“No, we did not.”

Heilda nodded, then she rubbed her hands together. Wringing out her fingers and cracking the knuckles as she crossed one leg over the other, “Okay. What I’m about to say may be shocking.”

“Just spit it out.” Tamlin said, finally and fully fed up with these riddles and strange questions. 

“Alright,” Heilda looked between Lucien and Tamlin, Lucien tightened his grip on Tamlin’s hand. 

“Congratulations, Lord Tamlin Fairburn, you are pregnant.”

One heartbeat, then a dozen. Tamlin stared at Heilda like she had two heads and a tail. Lucien had gone completely white, the fire lord looked as though he was about to pass out. 

Heilda looked between the two, she smiled, then clapped her hands as she wheeled her chair away, “This is what happens when you don’t take contraceptives.”

Tamlin laughed, he laughed hard, nearly falling off his chair. He gripped Lucien’s hand so tightly he could feel his bones grinding under his fingers, Lucien didn’t pull away regardless. The Fox remained silent whilst Tamlin fell into hysterics. 

“No!” Tamlin said, pushing himself back into his chair, “No, no, no. I am not- I am not at all. That is wrong!”

Anger now pressed through the hysteria. Heilda sighed like she expected this reaction, turning around she looked over at Tamlin, “Listen, you were in a female form and you-”

“I am not now aren’t I?!” He shouted, standing up from his chair. His sudden motion snapped Lucien from his daze. He quickly stood up and wrapped an arm around Tamlin’s chest. He made to wrap his free arm around his stomach, but suddenly didn’t. When Tamlin looked at him the Fox was breathing deliberately slowly, staring at his abdomen with an unreadable expression. 

It only served to piss Tamlin off even more. Heilda, unlike the two before her, stayed calm, her voice soft and gentle when she replied, “No, but you can still retain a womb in this form if your magic allows it.”

“I shifted back the morning after!” Tamlin shouted, “This should’ve never happened! You are wrong!”

“I’m not, and I think you know I’m not. Spring thrives off of fertility magic, your magic protected the foetus growing in your womb.” Heilda replied. So casual as if this happened every other day. 

Tamlin stammered and stuttered, trying to figure out someway around this. Some loophole or information that would directly challenge this. Like if he wished hard enough he could prove her wrong. Like if he managed to get angry enough, he could make this go away. Tamlin eventually looked to the floor. Beginning to process the information for what it was. For exactly what it meant.  

“I recommend shifting back into the form of a female, it will make this more comfortable.” Heilda said, her voice still so gentle. It stopped making him angrier, and as the initial shock and denial wore off, the world began to tip from one side to the other. Lucien held him up. The red-head’s fingers intertwined with Tamlin’s. 

“Is there anything else, Heilda?” Lucien asked, his voice a soft murmur behind Tamlin, yet a dull vibration in the face of the ringing in his ears growing with each passing second. 

“Bring him back for some more tests once he’s processed this.” Was all Heilda said. Tamlin was caught between wanting to wake up from this as if it were a dream and wanting to rip her throat out for being so casual about this. 

Only Lucien murmured his thanks. Tamlin considered cursing out the healer, but his sudden lack of energy made that impossible. 

In the future he would thank Heilda for being so calm, for now, he hated her for it. 

Lucien and Tamlin were silent as they left the healer’s office. Lucien kept his hand on Tamlin’s, gently leading the way as Tamlin was still reeling. Barely thinking, he couldn’t hear much besides some of Lucien's gentle murmurs and promises that they would figure it out. 

But as Lucien made to winnow them he suddenly stopped, eyes wide, face pale, hands shaking. Tamlin furrowed his brow whispering, “What?”

“Can-Can I winnow you? That won’t hurt…” Lucien bit his lip as he made a quick gesture to Tamlin’s belly. 

Tamlin snarled, his fangs a flash of white. He ripped his hand away from Lucien’s and marched in the general direction of Rosehall.

“Tamlin!” Lucien called out, quick to follow him, “Tamlin you can’t just storm off!”

“Watch me!” Tamlin turned around and screamed at him. Lucien stopped dead in his tracks, his nose scrunched as he furrowed his eyebrows. 

“Don’t scream at me, I’m only trying to help!” Lucien told him.

“I don’t need your help, Lucien! I don’t need you!” It was a dirty lie, because Tamlin needed Lucien more than air. Especially now. He felt his legs shaking, he wanted to fall to the ground. He wanted to sleep for a thousand years. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream and rage and throw things. He wanted to get angry. He wanted to go back to this morning when this didn’t exist to him. 

Tamlin didn’t wait to see Lucien’s reaction to his venomous words, he turned around and continued to storm away. 

He didn’t get far. Lucien appeared behind him and picked him up. Holding him in bridal carry. Tamlin yelled and thrashed, spitting curses at him, some of which he had forgotten he even knew. 

“Put me down!” His voice was drawing attention from passersby, but Lucien didn’t put him down, just waited. 

“Lucien fucking Vanserra let go of me!”

“Stop being a dickhead and I will.”

“You-”

“Tamlin.” Lucien warned. The tiniest hint of a growl in his voice, something about the way he said it made Tamlin stop squirming. The glare of death in the High lord’s eyes never left but he gritted his teeth and stopped moving. 

“Good.” Lucien said, putting him back on the ground, but keeping two hands on his shoulders. 

“Tamlin, we need to deal with this.” Lucien said, his eyes hard, his face unforgiving. 

“I know-”

“No, you will try and ignore this until you are physically unable to any longer, and then we will be unprepared. You and I are going to talk about this, and form a game plan.”

Tamlin’s eye twitched, “Then can you wait until we get back to Rosehall?”

“We will walk back.” Lucien said as he let go of Tamlin and plucked a paper and pen from the space between realms. The red-head scribbled something down before sending it off. Tamlin knew it would be something to Alis to say they would be returning later than expected. 

Tamlin’s hands once again curled into fists. He took in a deep breath, “I have shapeshifted, a little magic will not hurt.”

Lucien’s chest rose and fell with a deep breath, “We don’t know that Tam.”

Tamlin laughed quietly, at what he didn’t know. The world was going so fast, at the same time it came to a complete halt.  

“What the fuck are we going to do?” Tamlin asked quietly. 

Tamlin stared at nothing, vision slowing like a haze was settling over his bones, a dark mist that made everything seem so far away. 

“Hey.” Lucien murmured, taking the High lord’s hands in his, “We’ll figure it out.”

They walked. Over the rocky cobblestone paths and through the blooming gardens abounding through Spring, the smell of pollen wafted through the air, mixing with the scents of sweetened coffee and baked goods. The sun was speckled over the ground by the constant clouds passing overhead. Gentle breezes caressed the delicate petals of roses, lilacs and lilies. 

Tamlin resolutely stared at the ground ahead, each footstep deliberate and careful. He could feel whenever Lucien’s watchful eyes flicked to him. The High lord wrapped his arms around himself, releasing Lucien's hand, and made sure to not so much as flick his gaze to his emissary. 

Eventually it felt like Lucien got the message and looked ahead as well, the clicking of his eye never directed in Tamlin’s direction. Finally Tamlin looked at him, to see Lucien with his head held high and facing straight ahead. His red hair a banner behind him in the breeze. His stride never faltering. 

Tamlin felt like a newborn foal next to him, not so graceful and elegant, more clumsy and foolish. 

Then a sound filled his ears, one that made him stop dead in his tracks. Tamlin quickly snapped his gaze to his left, looking across a nearby field, filled with a plush blanket of white, purples, pinks and reds, there he saw a gaggle of children. Some lesser Fae, others High Fae. All blowing on dandelion fluff and laughing until they fell to the ground. Two boys with purple skin and big black eyes, chased each other with worms on sticks. A girl with delicate fluttering wings carefully placed a flower crown on a girl with pointed ears, freckles and ginger hair. 

Another two girls threw mud onto each other, ruining the delicate lace of their baby blue dresses. And one boy, much smaller than the rest, with wispy brown hair laughed until he fell onto his back. 

“Tam?” Tamlin didn’t look at Lucien as his eyes were captivated by the children of his Court playing without a care in the world. 

One hand scrunched in the fabric of his trousers, strands of blond hair were picked up by the wind, fluttering over and around his face. 

Lucien walked back to stand beside Tamlin as he saw what had halted him. The Fox of Prythian reached his hand out and wrapped Tamlin’s in it. 

“It’ll be okay Tam.” He whispered. 

“Dahlias.” Tamlin rasped, voice breathy and shaking. 

Lucien hummed in confusion and Tamlin pointed to the field, “The field its… the flowers are all dahlias.”

A heartbeat of silence passed them by, floating along like a butterfly on the wind, Lucien squeezed his hand ever so slightly, “A field of dahlias.”

***

The rest of the walk home was less exciting. Mostly Tamlin stayed caught in silence whilst Lucien broached the harder topics that would later need more discussion. The complications of having an Heir of not just Spring, but of the Cursebreaker, so quickly after Amarantha’s reign had come to a completion. Even Feyre was not completely settled into her new body as a High Fae, and certainly not settled into her new role at Court.

Tamlin wouldn’t dream of putting a singular extra duty on her shoulders that she didn’t need to have to stress about so soon after all had been said and done. But he had to admit they needed more publicity, something for the rest of Prythian to see that Feyre Archeron was the Lady of Spring, the saviour of the Mountain, and the Warrior who sent Amarantha to her grave. 

He didn’t want her to be a show pony, only to be paraded to see her achievements. She had said it herself on a number of times that she wanted a quiet life. But if a baby was now on the way-

No, not thinking about that. 

He didn’t want to think about ‘it’ , he wanted to think about how to get Feyre properly settled. Then how to stabilise the Court, and regain what had been stolen and lost to Amarantha. He needed to focus on the Court right now. 

The sight of Rosehall came into view and Tamlin felt a heavy weight settle over his shoulders, he spoke to Lucien while his eyes examined every detail of his home. “Organise dinners, celebrations, prepare for the upcoming holidays. Pay special attention to the farmers, whatever they need, send it to them. The doors of Rosehall are completely open to the public and any that come in seeking refuge from other Courts. And Lucien.”

Tamlin stopped and Lucien halted as well, his brown eyes meeting green, “Make preparations for the tithe, we need to get it back up and running. We are barely holding on as it is, with everything Amarantha has done we cannot afford the losses that have hit us.”

Lucien nodded, Tamlin went on, “Most of the money and jewels from the treasury were stolen and until we send people back under the mountain to retrieve what they can we are on a tight budget. Every coin goes straight into the refugees, the farmers and the villages that have lost their homes.”

“Of course, but Tamlin-”

“The people are in low spirits and the magic will sense that. Spring thrives off of fertility and celebration from the Fae. I haven't even seen the wisps since before we went under the mountain. Until the native creatures of the land return we are in emergency mode. I want a list of everyone we lost to Amarantha, I need a spreadsheet of the damages and the costs necessary to return everything to its former glory, until we are back to normal we will not rest-”

“Tamlin Kali Fairburn!” Lucien eventually yelled.

Tamlin blinked, then he blinked again. Lucien gritted his teeth, the light hitting the emissary in just the right way that his skin seemed to glow with his frustration, “You are stressing yourself out for no reason.”

Tamlin gawked at that, “There is a reason, our Court is still half in ruins-”

The fire lord marched forward and put his hands on his shoulders, “And I will help you to restore it. But you cannot try and handle everything yourself.”

“I am not trying to do everything myself-”

“You are thinking of everything at once, when you need to calm down.” Lucien’s head fell, he took several deep breaths, “Listen, Tam. Like it or not we… you are now responsible for another life.”

Tamlin bristled at that, fangs starting to point through his teeth. Claws pressed against his skin, threatening to burst through. 

“Tamlin.” Lucien said slowly, “I know you don’t want to think about this, but that doesn’t change the fact that Spring is…” Lucien took another steadying breath, like he was falling apart at the news himself, “Spring is having an Heir.”

There were the words that crushed Tamlin even more. This… it wouldn’t be just another baby, but an Heir of Spring, a possible successor. A potential future ruler of the Spring Court. 

They had no choice but to think about this. 

“We will take this one step at a time.” Lucien moved his hands down to clasp his friends, thumbs rubbing the backs of his palms. 

Tamlin stared down at the dark fingers massaging gentle circles into his skin. He closed his eyes, the headache pounding harder. He was so fucking tired. 

“This is awful.” Tamlin whispered into the space between them. 

“I know Tam.” Lucien murmured, his voice near drowned out by the sounds of laughter in the distance. 

He felt like he might collapse. A headache pushed into his temple. He noticed a flicker of movement, and then saw that it was in fact a butterfly, small and blue and clueless. Making laps around their heads. 

“It’ll be okay.” Lucien reassured him. It was false, they had no idea if it would be okay. 

***

It was not okay. 

It was absolutely not okay. 

He had a headache all the time and sleep became a luxury he apparently could not afford. All of a sudden complaints pushed from all sides as bandits began to infiltrate the Southern and Western borders. Seeing quick money and easy blood to draw. 

Many of the servants and sentries had left the grounds for other Courts in order to visit family after the Curse’s conclusion. With quickly hired, inexperienced staff, the grounds began to descend into chaos. 

Not to mention how everyone was coping. That being barely. 

Nowadays even into the dark hours of the morning, every hall was lit and not a single room didn’t have some form of a faelight and an open window. No one wished to be forced back into darkness, and everyone needed the reassurance of open, blowing air. 

The second Tamlin had stepped foot back into his office he was thrown back into work. Now, days didn’t end until he was near passing out from exhaustion and they started the second the ray of first light hit his face. 

He wasn’t the only one. Lucien he barely saw anymore, as much as the Fox of Prythian attempted to check on him, they both lost all sense of time. Unable to keep up with their workloads and desperately attempting to pull the Court back into order. 

With everything going on, Tamlin had yet to tell anyone about… it. 

Alis had tried to push for answers, but even with all her stubbornness, the female knew when she had to back off. The quick snappish answers and flare in temper were enough to tell her, it wasn’t time for her to ask what happened that day with the healer. But Tamlin could tell she was worried. 

With everything happening. Tamlin had forgotten the last time he even so much as laid eyes on Feyre.

He was sure he saw her during the nights at some point, but as everything merged into a dazed blur of work, work, work, he couldn’t be sure. 

That wasn’t even including the constant strain from symptoms. 

Vomiting, and headaches were just the start of it. At times he could barely keep his eyes open even after hours of sleep. If he stood too quickly, all blood rushed from his head and black spots filled his vision. Random outbursts became more prevalent, everything setting him on edge. 

"Dear Gods," He cursed, rubbing his temples. Elbows planted on his desk. Tamlin screwed his eyes shut as yet another wave of throbbing crashed over him. 

There was a light rapping at his door. Tamlin didn't need to look up as the door opened to know who it was. The scent of cinnamon spice was enough telling. 

"Tam." Lucien said tenderly. 

Without opening his eyes, Tamlin said, "Lucien Vanserra, if the next words out of your mouth aren't, here is a giant cookie and hot chocolate, I will toss you over the border and back into Autumn."

There was a heartbeat of silence. 

Tamlin wouldn't throw Lucien back into Autumn, Tamlin quite liked Lucien. 

He would very possibly steal and hide all of his left shoes. Lucien was fully aware of that. 

Lucien left the office, and when he returned, he opened the door saying, "Here is a giant cookie and hot chocolate."

Indeed, he was carrying a tray with a giant chocolate chip cookie and two mugs of steaming hot chocolate that made Tamlin's mouth water when he saw them.

Lucien is a smart man. Everyone should be like Lucien, Tamlin thought. 

Setting the tray on the dark wood coffee table by the empty fireplace. Lucien sat down on the green velvet lounge. 

Tamlin left his desk and joined him. Settling into the soft fabric and hands immediately reaching for said cookie. Lucien smiled softly as he took up his mug. 

"Heilda said it would be more comfortable to shift to female form." Lucien said as he absentmindedly toyed with the handle. His voice was soft as he broached the subject, not wishing to provoke anger. 

Tamlin bit into the cookie and nearly moaned. 

To shift into a female form. To stay like that. It would raise eyebrows and suspicions. And good Gods, when he started to show-

No, not thinking about that. 

"So?" Tamlin asked. He knew he had to listen, he had to take into account the possibility of having an Heir for the Court. 

Gods, an Heir so soon. They just came out from Under the Mountain. It was all still fresh, too fresh. He could still see her eyes above him. Pushing him down into the sheets-

No. 

Not thinking about it. 

"So..." Lucien traced the rim of his cup with his finger, "Perhaps you should think about listening to her."

Tamlin's eyes snapped to Lucien's to find the fiery male staring right back. He lifted a perfectly groomed red eyebrow and waited for a response. One leg crossed over the other and head held high. 

Lucien didn't back down for anyone, not Beron, not Amarantha, and certainly not Tamlin. 

"Or perhaps I won't." I am a grown male, and I will make my own decisions, did not need to be said for Lucien to get the gist of it. 

"She is the professional, Tam." He hummed. 

"Don't call me that." Not now. Don't be gentle with me. 

Lucien put the mug down on the table, it banged as his hands didn't bother to control his strength. 

"Alright, this has gone on long enough." Lucien said, "We need to do something about all of this."

"What do you want to do exactly?" Tamlin snapped, temper flaring. 

"Gods above." Lucien rubbed his temples and Tamlin wanted to throw something. 

"Come up with a goddamn game plan, Tamlin. I want to know what the next moves should be. I mean, have you even told Feyre?" Lucien bounced his knee up and down. Tamlin thought that at any moment he might get up and start pacing. 

"Well I- there isn't anything that can be done Lucien!" Tamlin shouted, finally beginning to snap. He hated this. He wanted to be done with it. 

And he hadn't told Feyre. He didn't want to. He didn't want to talk about it. 

Like if he refused to so much as think about it, it wouldn't exist. 

Lucien opened his mouth, eyes blazing and preparing to yell. Then he cut himself short and snapped his mouth shut. Face falling back into carefully crafted blankness and eyes losing any emotions at all. 

Tamlin's claws nearly shot through his hands. Fire blazing through him, not just because of the subject at hand, but because of how easily Lucien put his mask on. Hiding his true thoughts so well. 

Tamlin wished for the courtier mask, but no matter how hard he tried there was nothing he could do to hide himself. 

Fuck this all. 

"You need to tell Feyre," Lucien said, crossing his arms. Relaxing back into the lounge, as nonchalant as ever. Tamlin hated it. 

"I don't need to do anything." Tamlin hissed. 

Lucien chuckled and claws finally pierced to the surface. He dug them into pillow beneath them, slowly counting back from ten. 

"What is so funny?"

Lucien picked up his mug again as he shook his head, "Sure you don't need to do anything Tam."

"Get out!" Tamlin shouted. 

Lucien rolled his eyes, he put his mug down and slid off the lounge gracefully. A swagger in his step as he left the room, as he passed through the threshold his hand caught the door. He tossed a seething smile over his shoulder and said, "Figure it out on your own then, but figure it out, Tam."

Lucien slammed the door shut before Tamlin could yell at him. 

***

Feyre wasn't happy. She didn't know when she started feeling this way, when the total weight of how she felt finally settled into her bones. Like mist in the morning, it descended slowly until she was consumed by it. 

She couldn't look the Fae around her in the eyes anymore. Not without seeing the Faeries she had stabbed. The boy's screams filled her eyes at every ring of a bell or snap of a tree branch. 

And dear God, the girl who had prayed before she had ended her life. The words seemed carved into her skin, she heard them in the laughter and song of the Priestesses that came in groups for lunch after long days working in the Temple. Every time those swishing robes passed her by, she remembered that prayer. 

One of the Priestesses had taken a special interest in her. One of the twelve High Priestesses. Feyre knew little of how religion worked in the Fae Lands. The idea of Gods and such had never interested her. She had worked for too long back in the cabin to spend her time thinking of them. 

And if they did exist certainly the Mother was laughing at her.

As of now, Feyre stared out at the gardens. She was sitting by a small table on the porch, watching dahlias sway in the wind. The grounds were covered in them, they had been a flower Elain had grown back at the cabin and then at the new manor they resided in now. One of the only plants Feyre could pin-point. 

"I thought I might find you here." A voice said, breaking the silence. Feyre looked back over her shoulder and despite herself a small smile graced her lips. 

"Good morning Ianthe, shouldn't you be at a ceremony or such?" Feyre asked.

Ianthe chuckled, her voice and sweet face reminded Feyre a little of Elain. But her overall demeanor and strange stoniness reminded her of Nesta.  

"No, the girls are handling everything this morning. I have a break." 

Ianthe strolled over to where Feyre was sitting. She pointed to the chair opposite of her and asked, "May I?"

"Please." Feyre said. 

Ianthe gracefully slid into the seat, crossing one leg over the other. She did not wear her robes this morning. Her body still completely covered. However, the layers of her dark blue dress were lighter to account for the warmer weather this morning. A pale blue silk scarf covered her head so only a few curling blonde hairs fell around her face. 

"Did it hurt? The tattoo I mean." Feyre eventually asked. The tattoo of the phases of the moon, they interested Feyre. Whilst she now had a swirling tattoo along her arm, that one had been stained magically. 

Violet cruel eyes. Taunting hands and a laughing voice. 

No. Not thinking about him. 

Ianthe watched the swaying gardens as she answered. Her face was not cold, but it wasn't warm either. Like a stoic mother, Feyre thought. 

"Yes, but it was worth it to be given this honour." Ianthe answered. 

Feyre hummed, "Did you always want to be a High Priestess?"

Ianthe chuckled, finger tracing her knee, "My, my, many questions this morning."

The Archeron sister stiffened for a moment, "You don't need to answer if it makes uncom-"

Ianthe lifted a slender hand, she turned her full eyes back to Feyre and smiled, "I am teasing Feyre."

"Oh."

"As for your question, I always knew I wanted to be part of the Court. I worked well with the others. And I knew I could help this Court, the way the former High lord ruled he..."

Ianthe cut herself off as a darkness filled her eyes. Her mouth twisted into a straight line. Feyre furrowed her brow, concern beginning to creep in, "He...?"

Ianthe quickly shook her head and straightened, pulling herself from her thoughts, "He just... He wasn't a good male and I knew I could do something to help. As for becoming a High Priestess specifically I-"

Now a soft smile adorned her face as she lifted her eyes to the white sun's rays. 

"I have always had an affinity for the Mother and her creation." 

Feyre turned her own eyes back to the dahlia flowers. Blooming prettily as if not just months before the Spring Court had been ravaged and left in ruins. 

"The world is going back to normal." Feyre noted. 

Ianthe laughed suddenly, and Feyre snapped her eyes back to her. 

The High Priestess shook her head and murmured, "Nothing will ever be normal again."

"You weren't even here for the fifty years," Feyre pointed out, recalling what Lucien had told her before. How Ianthe's father had sent her and her sisters to the continent right as the curse was hitting. 

At her words Ianthe balled her dress up into her fists, "You don't know my story."

"Then tell me." I will listen, Feyre wanted to say. 

Out of the corner of her eyes, Ianthe watched her. Blue eyes like sapphires in the light, "You won't understand."

"Try me."

A shake of her head and an amused smile, "Count the blessings you have flower, appreciate them. For at any moment, they can all be taken."

Feyre blinked. Then her face fell into deadpan. 

What was it with Fae and their riddles?

Ianthe threw her head back as she laughed at Feyre's confusion, "Flower just know not to take the word of Faeries at face value."

Ianthe leaned back into her chair and Feyre asked, "Can you guys just... tell me what you mean?"

A sly smile and glinted eyes, "Now where's the fun in that?"

***

She hated her reflection. She stood in front of the mirror as Ianthe carefully placed a crown of daisies and dahlias in her hair. 

"Why dahlias?" Feyre had asked.

Ianthe had shrugged, "You seemed to like them."

They had gone through enough dresses to last Feyre a lifetime. She had never liked dresses and today did not change that. She longed for something she could move in. Felt like restricted in. But she sucked it up. 

Ianthe had brought in a myriad of different dresses for her to try. To find one she liked best. 

"Do they all have to be so..." Feyre had gestured to large puffy sleeve and Ianthe had snickered. 

"For the record these were the former Lady of Spring's dresses."

Feyre had gone very, very still at that. Guilt shocking through her at how she hadn't liked the look of them. 

Ianthe had then rolled her eyes, "Do not fret, child, the Lady hadn't particularly adored them either. But it is tradition to wear the dresses of the former Lady. This were the Lady of Spring's before hers, and before hers. Now they will be yours."

Ianthe had then reassured Feyre, "Just for today at least, then they'll go back into a bag and into the closet to sit for the next several centuries."

Feyre had laughed suddenly at that, and the knot of anxiety welling in her stomach had begun to ease. 

Feyre had then rifled through the atrocious amount of fabrics. And eventually her hands landed on one particular dress. It was the biggest of them all, with an atrocious amount of tulle, lace and puffs. It was beautiful, Feyre could admit as much as that. But it was... so much. 

Feyre had bit down on her lip, trying not to laugh. Then she had looked at Ianthe whose eye was twitching as she pursed her lips, desperately keeping her own laughter down. 

They met each other's sights and were helpless but to fall into hysterics. 

The dress had been laid on the bed, but Feyre had decided on a far simpler one. Long, green silk simple sleeves, and a high neckline that opened just above her cleavage. The corseted part of the dress was embroidered with gold designs and tightly hugged her waist. Her far too small waist. As Ianthe had tied the back her eyes flicked up to Feyre in the mirror, hands still on the strings. 

Feyre had looked down, Ianthe continued and neither spoke of just how frail she had become. The High Priestess occasionally opened her mouth to say something, just to snap it closed. Ianthe didn't appear to know how to comfort, how to reassure. So, she didn't try. 

Now the look was complete. Feyre watched herself in the mirror. The long green skirts of her dress swirled as she moved. 

"There." Ianthe said. Feyre met her eyes in the mirror. 

"Are you ready?" She asked. 

Feyre didn't answer. She thought back on that day in the field when Tamlin had proposed to her, how happy she had been. How in so long the memories of Under the Mountain hadn't haunted her. 

Yet after all was said and done, it all came back. All had asked to show them the ring and expected her to gush about the future wedding and her engagement. Yet all enthusiasm had drained from her. Like the second Tamlin was not directly in front of her she no longer felt that passion any longer. 

It was just nerves. Nothing else. Once this day was said and done it would no longer bother her. 

"Yes."

Ianthe nodded, her eyes firm and set on Feyre through the mirror. A heartbeat passed and Feyre said, "We best be going then."

As she moved to leave. Ianthe put her hands on Feyre's shoulders, "One moment, my Lady."

The Cursebreaker furrowed her brow but remained still. Ianthe didn't break eye contact as she swiftly pulled a necklace out from underneath her robes. It swung from her neck, a beautiful green emerald that shone in the light. It was small and hung from a golden chain. 

Feyre blinked, opening her mouth to ask what was happening. But Ianthe answered her question, as she unclasped the necklace and swiftly placed it around Feyre's throat. 

"Ianthe-" Feyre started. 

"Take it, Cursebreaker." As she let it hang from Feyre's neck she murmured, "You may need it."

"Need it?" Feyre whispered. 

Ianthe just smiled, "Trust me."

"You said yourself not to take the words of Fae at face value." Feyre countered. 

"I did." She stated. 

Before Feyre could once again point out the blatant hypocrisy, Ianthe said, "Try to see past the person, Feyre. Try and see what may lay underneath."

***

He hated his reflection. Standing in front of the mirror whilst Alis fixed his hair and jacket burned a flaming rage deep in his core, but there was little he could do. Other than stand still and allow the Summer Faery to do her work. 

"You look very handsome." Alis smiled up at him as she stepped back, admiring her handiwork. 

Tamlin tried to give her a smile back, but he could only manage a weak nod as he stared at himself. 

Shell of a person. Eyes sunken from lack of sleep, skin unnervingly pale, gaunt, hollow. 

At least the suit was well made, tailored, green with whites and golds. Alis had braided flowers through his hair and dusted his face with just the slightest of makeup, she told him it was for the look to come together perfectly. But he knew it was to coverup the deadness in his face. 

The lesser faery opened and closed her mouth. Eyebrows furrowing. Tamlin nearly groaned. 

"What is it, Alis?" 

"Are you sure you're okay?" She asked, brushing away a speck of lint from his shoulder. Tamlin resisted the urge to roll his eyes. 

"I am sure." He said, finally turning away from that godforsaken mirror. He faced the door of his bedroom. Lucien stood there. Dressed to the nines in green. Far more understated than Tamlin but just as gorgeous. 

"Ready?" Lucien asked. 

Tamlin shifted under his piercing gaze. The Fox scrutinized every inch of him, he was on display, wholly and completely. 

"I'm fine." Tamlin settled to say. He wouldn't admit how he felt sick to his stomach and the fluttering of anxiety was threatening to send running to bathroom to throw up once again. 

He held strong. He wouldn't be made weak. No matter how weak he truly felt. 

Lucien didn't believe that for a second. But he said nothing as he moved from the doorway and said, "Well then, the wedding is on in less than five minutes."

Feyre hesitated from her place at the end of the aisle. 

Her eyes agitated, hands shaking. Tamlin held his breath. She looked beautiful, but Feyre was always beautiful. A ring of flowers adorned her head, her eyes held the wedding venue before her. 

Ianthe was the one she watched; Tamlin risked a glance at the Priestess who watched Feyre closely. Slowly she raised a hand, and with a soft voice beckoned, "Come, Lady of Spring."

Feyre loosened a breath, her chest rising and falling with measured, calculated breaths. She took a step forward and Tamlin's chest constricted. He sucked in a breath, and she took another step forward. The knot pulled tighter and tighter. 

He remembered when she had been dragged in by Attor. Tossed to Amarantha's feet. 

Panic had filled him. He had nearly fainted. Surely, she wasn't there, because he had sent her back. She was back in the human lands there was no possible way for her to have come Under the Mountain. 

Yet there she had been.

The image faded in and out. Shifting from Feyre's perfect, unmarked face to the bruised snarling face she had worn that day so many months ago. 

She took a step forward. 

He was going to throw up. 

Then she took a step back. 

For a second, for a fleeting moment, the knot in his chest loosened and he felt like he could breathe again. 

Then she took another step back. The knot tightened once more. 

Eyes widened, and whispers erupted in the crowd of Fae. 

Fuck. 

No. 

Like a rope pulled him forward, Tamlin took a step towards Feyre. The world slowed to one moment in time. She stumbled further back, shaking her head. And Tamlin stepped further into the aisle. 

Something snapped in her gaze. She turned on her heel and sprinted. 

There was a gasp, and hot white rage flew through the High lord. Filling his veins, breaking something that had been pulled taut for too long now. 

He nearly launched into a run after her. 

"Tamlin." Lucien hissed, as he lept forward and pulled Tamlin back. 

Tamlin turned around to snarl at him, but in a second they were gone. Winnowed. 

Tamlin shouted into the darkness that enveloped them. And by the time they landed he was screaming curses at the red head. Lucien didn't seem to care. 

They were in his study. The window were open and sunshine was pouring in. Yet the house was empty as the grounds descended into chaos as the groom and bride had each disappeared. 

"Why did you-" Tamlin shouted, but Lucien snapped. 

"She was running away, what were you going to do?! Grab her and force her to marry you!" Lucien shouted, whilst pointing a finger into Tamlin's chest. 

"You-"

"Don't start with me Tamlin! We will find her, but for now calm the fuck down!" 

Tamlin blinked, initial rage simmering into something else entirely. 

What just happened. 

In the span of a few seconds, he had gone from jittering at the altar, watching his bride, then watching her run from him as he attempted to go after her.

He must have looked as shocked as he felt, because Lucien put a hand on each of his shoulders and guided him to the lounge. 

"Sit." Lucien ordered, Tamlin obeyed. Staring into nothing, mind horribly blank. 

Eventually one smaller thought came to mind, "I thought I wasn't allowed to winnow."

"You can in short distances, I spoke to Heilda. But she recommended it be someone else doing to actually winnowing."

"Oh."

"Yeah." Lucien sat down on the arm of the lounge. 

"What do I do now?"

Lucien stared at him and for the first time said, "I have no idea."

***

"Feyre!" 

Feyre didn't respond to the call. She crossed her arms and pressed further back into the trunk of the tree she was sitting in. Her knees bent, keeping her curled into the branch and just out of sight. 

"Feyre oh sh- Mother lead me." Ianthe hissed as she caught herself from cursing, "Where is that girl?"

Feyre craned her neck to look down. She saw Ianthe holding up her pale blue robes in one hand and her shoes in the other as she trod through grass and mud. 

"Feyre! I know you're out here somewhere!" 

Somewhere indeed, currently right above her. 

Ianthe screwed eyes shut and sighed deeply, "Couldn't have run somewhere inside, no we had to go out into the forest."

Despite the guilt and shame, the anxiety and hurt knotting and writhing in her stomach, threatening to make her lose her breakfast. Feyre chuckled. 

Bad decision, as Ianthe straightened, her fae senses alerting her to the sound. 

Ianthe whirled her head back and forth, "Feyre?"

Feyre had the muffle her laughter with the palm of her hand. But it wasn't enough to escape the hearing of the High Priestess. 

Finally, Ianthe furrowed her brow and looked right up. Her confusion fell into deadpan as she saw the Cursebreaker nestled in a branch. 

Mouth pursing, Ianthe gripped her robes a little tighter then asked, "Flower why are you in a tree?"

It hit her again. 

As she had walked down the aisle. Seen the people, the faces staring and waiting. Seen Tamlin watching her. Then had seen Ianthe. 

Permanant. Permanently stuck here. Permanently with the memories. Seeing everyone watching, like they had watched Under the Mountain. 

That prayer had rushed through her head again. And she saw their faces when she stabbed them. 

"Feyre?" 

Feyre looked back down to Ianthe, but gritted her teeth and did not answer. 

"Feyre." Ianthe said, deadpan, "Do not make me climb a tree."

Still Feyre remained silent whilst she brooded on her branch. 

Ianthe's eye twitched. And finally she sighed heavily, mumbling something about the Mother punishing her. 

"Fine! Fine." She said, dropping her shoes and letting her robes down from her hand. 

Then Feyre watched as the pristine, tidy, and uptight High Priestess of Spring, grabbed onto a branch and planted her foot into the trunk. Climbing the tree. 

She nearly slipped and fell, a curse nearly falling from her lips before she caught herself. 

Her robes got caught on a sharp piece of bark and there was a ripping sound. Ianthe made a disgusted sound, before she climbed up higher and higher. 

Finally, after clumsily forcing her way onto a branch right beside Feyre, she sat down. Panting heavily. Then she checked the small hole made in the hem of her robes. 

She gritted her teeth but ultimately let it fall away as she faced why she came out here. 

"Feyre, lovely spot you have here." Ianthe said, sarcasm lacing her voice. 

"Thanks, picked it out myself." Feyre snapped. 

The High Priestess sighed, "Feyre, you have to come down."

"Yes, I have to go down. And I have to go back to the wedding, don't I?" She snapped. 

Ianthe observed her for a moment, before shifting uncomfortably. Stoic face seemingly trying to figure out what the best course of action was. Thinking logically, no doubt just wondering what the quickest way to get Feyre back to the wedding was. 

It struck her that Ianthe didn't actually care what Feyre was feeling. She was doing as she was told, no other reason. It made Feyre feel all the more alone. 

Back in that dungeon, with nothing to keep her company but her will and a bargain. 

"Do you... Do you not wish to marry him?" She asked. 

Feyre gritted her teeth, she screwed her eyes shut. Darkness pressed in and she remembered the Attor dragging her into the throne room. 

She wanted to scream. She wanted to forget anything that ever happened. She wanted to go somewhere none of it ever touched her again. 

"Feyre-"

"Just go away Ianthe I don't want to speak to you!" She shouted. 

Ianthe bristled, "I am just trying to help-"

"Well you aren't!" 

Now, her face iced over. Stone cold and fed up, "We have to go back, now either we can go willingly together, or I will get the sentries and they will drag you back."

A tremor ran up her spine at the threat, "I don't want to go back, Ianthe."

Ianthe loosened a tight breath, "Feyre, let's go home now."

"No."

"Archeron-" Her tone was warning. 

"I don't- I don't want to go back." Feyre insisted. 

Ianthe scrunched her nose slightly, eyebrows furrowing. Then her face evened out and her voice sweetened, "Feyre, we must go back."

The sudden change in tone, in face, a lure. An attempt at false comfort. The Priestess held out her hand. 

Feyre looked at the pale hand before her. 

Then at the ground. 

Back to the pale hand. 

Feyre reached out and Ianthe smiled. 

The Cursebreaker batted her hand away with enough force that Ianthe shouted but nearly fell off balance. Giving Feyre enough to time to jump to the forest floor and bolt. 

"Feyre Archeron!" Ianthe clung to the branch as she watched Feyre's form disappear further into the dark forest. 

Slowly she took inhaled, before releasing her breath. She closed her eyes and asked the sky, "Why, why, why, why, why?"

Feyre ran and ran and ran. She lost a shoe but she didn't care. The feeling of dirt underfoot somehow comforting. Reminding her she was still there and breathing. In the wind, in the open space. Not in that cave, not Under the Mountain. 

Yet still there. Always there like it followed her. A ghost of those months looming over her head. 

She reached a clearing of grass and wildflowers. She fell to her knees. Legs unable to hold her any longer. 

She shook, trembling hands and arms. She should've been able to run faster and far further than that. 

But looking at her arms, they were spindly. Her legs which were sticks compared to what they had once been. She felt her cheeks, her face which was hollowed out. 

Her fingers to skinny, her organs pressed against the skin of her torso. 

When was the last time she had eaten? Had felt the urge to eat anything?

She licked her lips, her throat dry. The air was suffocating. Pollen that was sickeningly sweet. Air open, without any end. 

A part of her wondered whether she had ever come out from Under the Mountain, feared, dreaded that at any moment she would awaken. 

She heaved a sob, cries racking through her too fragile bones. Like she was made of glass she trembled. 

Feyre felt like she was made of glass. Like at a single touch she might crack and fall into a thousand pieces and never be able to be put back together again. 

'Make it stop.' She cried in her mind, sniffling, 'Someone make it all stop.'

'Take me away.' She pleaded with nothing. 

There was the sound of stick cracking underfoot and Feyre's head snapped up. 

But instead of Ianthe or sentries, violet eyes shone down upon her. 

"Hello Feyre Darling."

"You!" Someone shouted, Rhysand and Feyre looked up to see Ianthe panting as she pointed to Rhysand. 

Feyre had never seen her quite so dishevelled. But rage lined her features. 

Rhysand however, simply smirked, before grabbing Feyre's arm as she screamed. The Night Lord lifted her tattooed hand and pointed to it. 

"Don't mind me, pretty Priestess, I am simply collecting."

And just like that. 

Rhysand winnowed them away. 

***

"What do you mean she's gone?" Tamlin asked, voice near breathless. 

Ianthe's eye was twitching relentlessly. She looked as though she had been dragged through a thorn bush. Then again if she had run after Feyre she may have been. Stick and leaves were stuck in her hair, some parts of her robes were torn. And dirt smudged her cheek. 

"I mean she was whisked away by the Night Court." Ianthe said, "Our worst fears came true, and Rhysand made good on his word."

"Bastard son of a bitch." Lucien cursed from behind Tamlin. 

Tamlin said nothing, unable to move. His eyes turned to Alis by the door who looked between the Priestess and the High lord with sympathetic eyes.

Slowly it lapped at his core. Rage that made his eyes start to black out. His hands trembling by his sides. 

Chest rising and falling quicker. 

Ianthe looked him up and down, then said to Lucien, "I'll leave you two to deal with this. I am going to have a six-hour long bath."

In a second the Priestess was gone. Alis following after her.

"Lucien, get out." Was the only warning Tamlin gave him. 

Lucien's eyes went wide, and he sprinted out the door, slamming it closed. 

And Tamlin's magic exploded in a second. 

The High lord screamed as his magic ripped through him. flooding his veins with uncontrollable, overwhelming power. He screamed and fell to his knees. A ringing filled his ears, his vision went white. 

When it resided, a sob wracked his body as shaking overtook him. His skin heated, getting hotter and hotter until his clothes were soaked with sweat. Trembling, Tamlin tried to pull himself to stand, but he suddenly doubled over and threw up. 

The door flung open and Lucien shouted something he couldn't hear. The world was a swirling, dizzy haze of nothing. 

Someone gasped and Tamlin looked up to see Alis sprinting for him. The female cupped his face, and Tamlin blacked out.

Link to chapter 2 is here! Link to chapter 3 is here!

[jishyucks]

Walls, Brawls, & Sudden Rainfalls (Teaser) ‣ hrj

‣ pairing: renjun x reader

‣ genre: enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, slow burn, college au

‣ teaser wc: 1.9k

‣ final wc: expected to be 15k+ (could be more), currently 12k

‣ summary: Your first impression of Huang Renjun wasn’t the greatest. In fact, the first two encounters you did have with him were enough for you to conclude that he was just some cold-blooded boy who genuinely didn’t care about anyone else but himself. That was, of course, before the (damn) universe brings you both together to work on the local daycare’s mural.

↳ Alternatively where first impressions blind the fact that you two actually fit quite well together.

‣ warnings? (so far): Brief mention of underage drinking, Renjun and reader argue really childishly lots, when I meant slow burn, I really did mean slow burn ‣ an: I've never done teasers for my longer fics, but maybe I do want one for this because I've worked a little too hard on this one, so pls enjoy!

“Chalk, white paint, string, ruler,” Renjun mumbles, taking the supplies up into his arms. 

You grab the paint brushes, “Why do we need half of what you just said?”

Renjun’s walking out of the room, paying almost no mind to you and your question. 

“Huang Renjun,” you say firmly, “Can you answer my question?” You both are outside at this point, “Or… or else I’ll chuck this brush at you!” Although it was a joke, you subconsciously knew you would if he seriously didn’t open his mouth within the next minute.

“So I can draw a grid?” He speaks to you as if you were stupid.

Oh, he’s going to get it, you think, but your thoughts and your body think and do different things. Your body decides to stay grounded where you were, “And why would we need a grid?”

Renjun huffs and turns to his bag. He fishes out the draft you both had made last week, only there’s a graph lightly drawn over it, “So we can replicate the picture onto the wall.” Renjun thought this over the past few days. If he and you wanted to mural to turn out exactly how you both had drawn it, eyeing it wouldn’t be the best to go about it. Hell, even drawing out a rough sketch of it could be difficult through eyeing it. 

“Can’t we just free-hand it?” You’re not understanding why Renjun wants to make the job more difficult than it was. There were only two of you. If there were maybe four of you working on the mural, then sure, go ahead and draw a graph, but there were only two of you.

Renjun shakes his head, “I think it’s worth it to draw the graph, that way there’s no chance of messing up.” He fiddles mindlessly with the string he’s been holding. You can tell by the expression on his face that he’s serious about this. You want to tell him that, ‘bro, this is a mural for a daycare, it doesn’t need to be one-hundred-percent perfect,’ but Renjun looks like he’s ready to fight for what he wants. 

“Fine, let’s draw the graph,” you say. 

Renjun looks at you confused. Why’d you back down so quick? “Huh?” 

“But you do it all on your own.” 

Ah… There it is.

“I’ll just sit here and wait for you to finish.”

Renjun wants to laugh out loud, not because the situation was funny, but because he can’t believe you’re actually saying what you just said. “Are you serious?”

You sit down at a nearby bench and nod, “Why would I be joking? You sure do act like you know what you want to do… so, go ahead. Do it.” A spiteful smile rises upon your lips and you wave for him to go on with his task. Being the stubborn boy he was, Renjun gives you one firm look before turning towards the small ladder. He drags it towards the right end of the wall and begins preparing the materials.

You watch him out of curiosity, wanting to know how he’ll manage to do it all on his own. You want to see if he’ll ask for your help, or end up wanting to free-hand the rough sketch in end. But as you do observe Renjun, it’s clear that he’s not going to ask for help or give up.

Renjun measures out string that’s about the height of the wall, 3 metres tall, and then the length, which was nearly 4 and a half metres long. Grabbing measuring tape, Renjun uses the ladder to measure and divide the wall into foot-by-foot squares, marking the corners of the squares with dark chalk lines. The job’s going to take long, that’s for sure, and watching him move up and down the ladder, while he tries his best to keep his marks aligned, you can’t help but feel bad for making him do it on his own. 

But then again, he wasn’t asking for help. 

Renjun on the other hand is struggling and he hopes you don’t see it. Yes, two hands were enough for the daily tasks he has grown accustomed to, but two hands weren’t enough to do this very task efficiently. There’s a voice at the very back of his brain that was itching him to ask you for help, but as always, Renjun and his stubborn ass refuse to do so, even if he’s on the edge of falling off of the ladder. 

“Can you hand me the black paint?” Renjun asks about forty-five minutes later. His hairline is drenched from sweat and the lack of expression on his face reveals how tired he was, “Please.” He hopes that you’d at least help with this. 

Without another word between the two of you, you stand up and pick up the bucket of black paint. You quickly plop it down next to the foot of the ladder before looking up at him, “Are you done with the graph?” You try your best to sound disinterested, eyes moving across the wall.

Renjun blinks down at you, “Does it look finished?”

There’s a caring instinct in you that notices the exhausted look in Renjun’s eyes. His eyelids are drooping, and he’s sniffling from the constant moving he’s been doing. Renjun’s sweating profusely from the sun beating down on the both of you, and you’re brought to wonder if he was prepared to be worked up to this degree. 

When your eyes meet his, you’re instantly pulled from your thoughts and you remember that you’re not supposed to give a single fuck about Huang Renjun, even if he’s working his ass off like this. He looks like he’s waiting for you to answer or leave to go sit back down. But a rogue idea somehow assembles itself in your head and you decide to just go with it. You roll your eyes, “Well, I’m going to the washroom if you aren’t.”

“Whatever.” He gives you one last glare before turning to the black paint and the string. 

You start making your way to the front door of the building, sending Renjun sneaky glances. The second he’s paying you no attention, both direct and peripheral, you make a break for it and start sprinting towards the centre of campus. There was no doubt that you look like a madman right now, zooming past students who were still on campus despite the day of the week, but you didn’t care. If you want to pull this off, then you need to do this quick—and quick means running like you were in a life or death situation.

Finally reaching your destination, you decide to take a breather, hands on your knees and everything. Your mind wanders back to the day you applied for the gig, getting deja vu from the exhaustion you’re feeling right now. 

Once you finally are able to catch your breath, you make your way into the building and sigh at the air conditioning. 

“Y/N! Hi! The usual?” The Starbucks worker, one you’ve obviously seen plenty of times, looks at you in an odd way but goes with the flow nonetheless. She’s smiling at you, finger hovering over the screen in front of her as she waits for a response.

You nod and add, “Add an iced matcha latte to that too. Make it venti, please.” She nods and continues on with the usual routine. 

You left as quickly as you came, although this time, you’re sprinting with a bit more caution, not wanting to spill the drinks you’ve used your own money for. You can’t help but wonder what Renjun was thinking right now—what were you doing in the washroom for so long? 

The two drinks you were holding in both of your hands said it all, though there was still no explanation why you decided to sacrifice some of your time and money for Renjun. It was just the nice person instinct inside of you that decided to do so. 

You’ll complain about it to yourself later.

When you finally return from your little mission, you’re lucky enough to arrive when Renjun’s distracted with the graph. You notice he’s done the vertical lines within the time you were gone.

“That was a long washroom break,” Renjun muttered rather loudly. He’s pressing the paint-soaked string against the wall, face angled slightly to the side in focus, “I was beginning to think you ditched me.”

You shoot him a glare behind his back and contemplate whether you should throw the drink that you bought for him at him. Instead, you say nothing and put the drink down next to his things, making sure it was in a spot that was safe from the surroundings. 

Renjun looks back at you, instantly noticing that you were now holding an entire Starbucks drink in your hand, completely missing the one sitting by his things. “Didn’t know they had a Starbucks in the washroom.” His tone is dripping with sarcasm and hints of irritation. He still can’t believe he’s actually been working on the graph for almost two hours on his own. 

“Oh yeah, they just opened one a week ago,” you shoot back. You plop into your previous place and sit there, taking out your phone to distract you from Renjun. 

You don’t realize how much time has passed when you see a pair of feet stop in front of you. You’re brought to look up at the owner, “What do you want?”

“I want a break.” Renjun answers flatly, “I’m done with the graph. Now work on transferring it.” He holds out the same draft he had shown you earlier, waiting for you to take it. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to show his shoulders and he’s using a small towel, that was originally supposed to be for the paintbrushes, to wipe his forehead. 

“Sure” was all you said before snatching the draft from his fingertips. 

All the hard work was done for you. Transferring it was easy. 

Gathering the supplies you needed, chalk, paintbrushes, and white paint, you get going on transmitting the draft onto the wall. The moment you start the rough sketch of the mural, you feel a wave of nostalgia hit you, remembering the countless activity books you completed as a kid. You can distinctly recall the pages where one side displayed a cute drawing of an animal or character of some sort, overlaid by a graph, while the page next to it shows an empty graph in which you were instructed to redraw the completed picture. This was exactly like that, only bigger and not for leisure. 

Your delight in starting distracts you easily from Renjun, who you unknowingly finally notices the drink you had gotten him not even thirty minutes earlier. Although he’s a bit puzzled by the drink, remembering damn well that he never got the drink himself, he lets his line of sight drift to your half-finished drink sitting by your things. When realization begins settling in, he does one more thing to confirm his thoughts.

Twisting the drink in his grasp, Renjun faces the sticker label towards him, eyes instantly finding what he was looking for. 

*Y/N*

His eyes flicker up to you, standing firmly at the top of the step ladder, unaware of the fact that his eyes have widened and the corners of his mouth have climbed higher on his face. Despite the fact he’s thankful and a bit sorry that he was giving you attitude the second you got back from your ‘washroom break,’ the larger part of Renjun that’s still certainly irritated with you doesn’t say thank you.

Not out loud at least.

[therottenkingsreckoning]

Here it is, the chapter for which the whole story was named! Really had fun writing this, I'm having fun with all of them.

Don't be surprised if future installments take the teensiest bit longer to get done- I'd had a rough draft for these four going in, but everything past it will be brand new. Will still try to get things done as soon as I can- I'm excited to share what I've made, just as you're probably excited to read it!

~Little Flame, Chapter 4~

It took several more minutes to convince Eddie that his mate really wasn't sick, and a few more days trapped in the house to convince other folks that they were. But when Julie called them up excitedly asking if Frank felt ok enough to come by for lunch, how could he resist? She was their best friend after all!

So, off they went, and soon Frank found himself at Sally's theater, happily listening to the two girlfriends chatter away.

"It must be natural lighting this time," the star declared. "Candlelight if we may. Harsher stage lamps just won't do for the mood!"

"Forgive my saying it, but I'm not sure I trust you around open flame," Frank half-joked.

At this, Sally spun around, dramatic finger in his direction before turning it on herself. "Francisco, darling, I am open flame! If my set hasn't burned down by now, then surely a few measly lights won't pose a much greater risk."

"You've let us help you light menorah candles too," Julie chimed in. "Why would that be allowed and this isn't?"

Frank rolled their eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. "That's different. I'm there to watch you then, and make sure you don't hurt yourselves."

"So you can help us now!" Sally said assertively, stamping her foot down close to them. So close, in fact, that he could feel the intense heat her presence naturally gave off, and they had to admit she was right before. If her natural starborn radiance hadn't caught things on fire by now, nothing would.

"Will you help us Frank? Please?" Julie pleaded.

Frank looked from the star to the monster and back, finally letting out a groan as he flopped backwards onto the wood of the stage. "Fine!" They grumbled, far too exhausted these days to even try arguing. "I suppose I can help you."

The next hour was spent getting candles together from each of their houses and those of their neighbors, along with the various cups, jars, and vases that fit the collection. In the end, they had 34 small burning lights, set up to test their effect in the darkest back corner of Sally's backstage.

"I will say, this looks good," Frank said, bending to light the last candle. "You're right Sally, the warm tones feel...cozy."

"Of course!" the star beamed. "You should know you can always rely on my genius in matters of art!"

Julie walked up to her, giggling, and placed a small kiss on her cheek. "It's what I like about you. You're smart, funny, really pretty-"

"Alright stop!" Frank shouted playfully, "before she gets any more of a big head about it."

"You're jealous."

"Am not."

As he watched the two wandering off to make props, both were practically gleaming (one literally so.) It made Frank smile. After all they'd been through, here they were, happy lives so full of love for each other. Julie and Sally, Wally & Howdy, Barbie with her lovely boyfriend & Poppy with both of her girls.

He & Eddie, and the beautiful child they'd soon welcome home. Looking at the flickering, soft candlelight, their hand gently rested over his belly, heart full of contented joy. "I'll have my own little flame to take care of soon," he thought to themselves.

A gasp. He turned to see them both staring at him wide-eyed in shock, and Frank's blood ran cold.

He hadn't thought it. They had said it.

And now she had heard.

Moments passed in a razor-edged silence between them, mere seconds that felt like eons, and then Frank cleared his dry, raspy throat. "I-I didn't..."

Julie was the first to speak, a few gentle steps towards them & words spoken softly even though he could tell she was vibrating with contained emotion. "Frank? You're...you're pregnant?"

Their hands flew up now, one in his hair and the other making desperate attempts to wave off her comment. "D-don't be ridiculous Julie, I can't-"

"Hey," Sally spoke up now, equally awkward as she fumbled for the right words to not upset him. "I-It's alright dear, I...already knew about that. Or...I'd had my suspicions at least."

Frank stared into her eyes, anxieties scanning them for any possible sign of judgement. But there was none, only quiet and warm reassurance, solid ground on which to stand. "You didn't say anything?" To which she merely shrugged. "It's not my place to say. You'd tell us when you were ready to."

A barely compressed squeal shot out of Julie now, finally breaking the thick atmosphere. "Oh, but is it true? Is it really real that you're having a baby my guy???"

Frank could hug her right now. And they did, holding tight through the dizzying drop in his blood pressure. He was laughing, nerves and relief tangled up together in their head. "Yes, yes. It's...a few weeks along now, I think."

The rest of the afternoon was spent in excited chatter as before, his friends offering all the congratulations, questions and advice they could muster and to which Frank felt comfy responding. As they said their goodbyes, sunset bathing the trio in the same lovely glow as before, a soft rumble of laughter rang out from the door.

"Guessin' they know about it too now, huh?" Eddie asked, stepping out to embrace his partner.

"Yes," Frank replied with a chuckle of his own. "Sort of slipped out when we were testing the candlelight for Sally's play."

"Candles?" Eddie raised an eyebrow at that. "Don't know if I trust her around open flame."

[topherwrites]

omg I HAVE to ask about 'tis the damn season and two slow dancers (last ones out) because those are two of my FAVORITE songs!!

also ik you already talked about the while you were sleeping au but i just wanna say that i am sooo excited for it bc it's one of my comfort movies and ive seen it like a billion times <3 i cant wait to see what you do with it

a mitski or taylor title will always slap.

So, 'tis the damn season is a brother's best friend fic. Jake grew up poor and his mother died when he was young, leaving him with his asshole of a father.

Reader's family is very rich, like owning oil fields in Texas rich. Jake and her brother, Ian, were on the same pewee football team as kids and quickly became inseparable, their house always a refuge for him, especially during the holidays.

Jake, after not being able to make it for the holidays for the past few years due to not being able to get time off or being deployed, is bullied by Ian to come. This year the reader's parents are renting a lodge for the entire extended family in a made up skiing town in Colorado.

The reader is spending the holidays single, she has a (ex?)boyfriend she's taking some time apart from after a failed proposal where she told him she 'had to think about it'.

There's been a low simmering tension betweeen them for a number of years, that with her being newly single and Jake being Jake begins to come to a boil. They keep getting just a brush away from kissing—until they finally do.

And then... her boyfriend shows up uninvited. She tries to pretend like nothing happened between her and Jake, which annoys the shit out of him.

And they have to navigate family and insecurites and wants and needs all under a deadline—both of you are flying back to opposite sides of the country on January first.

here's one snippet under the cut and the pinterest board:

“My aunts hit on you yet?” He clicks his tongue. “One out of four so far. Nights still young.” You shrug, throwing back the last swig in your glass, “Or maybe you're losing your touch.”

and here's another, because i'm super excited about this fic.

With your head settled comfortably in his lap, he inquires, “Where's that boyfriend of yours?” “Uh, not, here.” You're quiet for a moment, a pinch to your brow and your lip tucked between your teeth. Clearly uncomfortable, not necessarily by him asking the question but by the memory it recalls. You release it with a sigh, “He proposed.” There’s an odd stirring in his chest, “Oh?” His hand drifts, thumb driving into the muscles below your ear. You let out a soft sigh, eyelashes fluttering, your body comfortably settling at the touch. He assumes why you're sans boyfriend, “And you said no.” It’s sort of a surprise, you don't really seem like the kind of girl who would not know whether you wanted to marry someone after three years, you also don't seem like the kind of girl who turns down proposals. You'd say yes just to keep everyone happy, especially your parents. Your eyes drift back open, yet you don't make eye contact, “No, I said I had to think about it.” “And?” “And… I'm thinking about it.” You take a swig off the bottle, settling your head back down into his hold.  “The sex is bad,” you blurt. It sounds like something you've been mulling over for a long time, the words worn smooth in your head, but it also sounds like you're trying to shove them back in as they come out.

two slow dancers (last ones out) is a second chance romance. The reader has finally filed for divorce from Jake after being estranged for three years because he reenlisted without telling her.

here's a snippet from a very rough draft:

With his hands bunched in the back of your shirt, he tugs, creating breathing room.  “I dont want to fuck you in the driveway.” He also doesn’t really want to fuck you in the shitbox place he’s renting. He wants to fuck you in your house, in your bed. He wants the things you shared to be the both of yours again. He's almost entirely sure that's never going to happen, he's fucked this beyond repair, so he’s smart enough to take what you offer him. You nod. He slides out of the car, a hand on your back and under your ass to steady you. He tosses you over his shoulder, hopping up the steps, carrying you to the door. Leaving one hand hooked over your thighs to keep you steady, he unlocks the front door, his other hand shakes as he fits the key into the lock. An image, now made bitter, of him doing the very same when you bought that big blue house together flashes through both of your minds. So many years younger then, so many older now. He feels ill, and can imagine you feel the same. You smack his back, your voice losing any playful or heady quality, “Put me down.”

thank you for the ask and your kind words!!

[the-lunar-library]

Cover Design: Have I Figured This Out Yet?

Today let's talk about the cover for my third book, To the Ravens. When talking about the earlier books' cover designs, I made a big deal about how it took actual years and years of trial and error.

To the Ravens did not take actual years and years to figure out how it wanted to look. It was eager to get going. The first cover design I drew for it was the final product.

But I did toss some ideas around before actually drawing it. Like this one.

This very rough cover dates back to January 2019, four years before I actually started writing, only a few months after I'd first begun playing around with ideas for the novel. And before you ask --

She's Akantha. For a long time, Akantha was named Kassiane.

I think the art is by Dante Gabriel Rossetti. It looks like his work, or one of his ilk.

No, I wasn't planning on publishing under Rayless Night. At that point, my first book was still only on its second or third draft and I was debating what name to write under. Rayless Night was just a placeholder.

This wasn't even a serious attempt at a cover. It's very simple, not very exciting, not very specific. As for the title, I didn't shuffle through too many -- I think To the Ravens was the first thing I settled on. (Again, a much easier process than the other two books.) I will say though that the female figure does nail Akantha's anger. She might be about to snap that pansy in two.

This image was more for me to have something to look at and think about in the early days of turning story ideas over. But when it came down to writing and actually facing the reality of publishing this thing, my mind settled on a much more unique and dynamic cover.

Not the cover I ended up going with though.

This was my original idea (a rough version), Akantha gazing up at a cloud spider. There are two scenes with cloud spiders in the novel, and this is supposed to reference the first one.

My inspiration was Greek red figure pottery. And there's a lot I like about this concept. It immediately conveys the Greek-ness of the novel's culture. It shows that the heroine's winged, something I really wanted. And it hints at danger. I kept this concept in my head for a lot of the writing process, but didn't yet commit it to paper. In fact, I didn't end up drawing it until a few weeks ago so I could illustrate this post.

I think it wouldn't have been a bad cover, but the red figure style has a stiffness to it that I started to dislike. I also didn't want so much flat black on the cover. I started to play with the idea of a blue or blue-green background, to contrast the orange and because blue-green has some significance late in the story. The spider and web (I sourced the web from Pixabay) are also kind of unwieldy -- the spider had to be comically shrunk down even to be included. The thing's downright cute at this size, and maybe now has completely the wrong vibe.

Then my dad had an idea for the cover.

Akantha with her wings dramatically raised, cast in shadow before the Earth (also sourced from Pixabay), with her eyes eerily glowing gold. This is a rough approximation, but you can see it's not a bad idea -- it's attention-getting. But I also feel the mood is wrong. It feels more like a comic-book cover.

But maybe it did influence me, because when I got around to drawing the cover, it featured both a red-figure Akantha and a heavenly body:

I'm really happy with this one. I'm not sure the red figure connotation is really there anymore -- I don't know if people look at this and think, "Ah, yes, Greece!" or more just "Ah, an orange demon!" (She is not a demon.) But the color contrast is really pretty, and now Akantha has none of that stiffness. Her wings are visible, and there's the Moon, so you get a hint that there's something alien and different about the story. (My logical father, however, points out that it should still be the Earth in the background, not the Moon, because Akantha lives on the Moon.)

I decided to go with complementary art of Alexandros on the back, with him in gold rather than red/orange.

I really liked the idea of incorporating Harmony the snake, having her link them together.

So that was my much simpler, much easier process. I think this cover's come out the best, particularly in physical copies.

What do you think? Should I have kept the spider?

[folliesandfolderols]

Writing prompts day 84

From this prompt list. If you’ve read this far, I’m not sure you need any explanation, but the short version is I hadn’t written any fiction since 2019, I set a goal to write at least 150 words/day in 2024, and this list was my way to restart. Also I abruptly decided on day 2 I would write an entire Tim/Damian story connecting all the prompts, because I am Good at Judging My Limits. /sarcasm Anyway, I finished the rough draft a while ago and am now unlocking the old entries as I edit.

Read from the beginning here, or on ao3 here.

Days 76-83 here

***

127. "I don't like people touching what's mine."

***

When Tim woke up, he was held securely to Damian’s side with one strong arm. He could tell by the rhythm of Damian's breath that he was awake. A glance at his phone on its charging stand told him the alarm was going to go off in fifteen minutes.

“Morning,” he mumbled, kissing the skin closest to his mouth. “Did you sleep okay?”

“I did.” Damian's arm tightened around him and lifted till Tim tilted his head back to blink at him. 

Damian’s tone held none of its usual bite this early. Tim’s belly quivered with a jumble of emotions he didn't want to pick apart.

“Hey.” He rolled to overlay Damian and peck his lips. “You should kiss me. Or I should kiss you, I'm not picky.”

Damian's whole body melted under his, going loose-limbed except where he embraced Tim. "Very well, I suppose I can humor you for a little while." He kissed Tim, mouth slow and leisurely, like neither of them had a single obligation that wasn't to the other. Tim made an appreciative sound and let his muscles unwind from their customary readiness. There were few places safer than here, in the fading darkness of his bedroom, with Damian. He could afford to let his guard down a little.

They kissed and kissed and kissed, and though Tim grew half-hard and could feel Damian's same response beneath him, it didn't seem like a precursor to anything. It was worthwhile for its own sake.

With their chests pressed together like this, it felt entirely possible that the tangled knot of emotions at Tim's core could unwind and knit itself into Damian. He would carry it with him through his day, picking apart each stitch with his clear-eyed scrutiny. Before long, he would have a better idea of Tim's emotions than Tim did himself. 

Terror, sharp and cold, streaked down his backbone. Shit. He was in so fucking deep.

Well, like Cass had said, he could just pretend he wasn't scared. Lifting his head, he whispered against Damian's swollen lips, "Five, four, three, two..."

Damian gave a disgruntled "tt" as the phone screen started to brighten beside them, the alarm chirping at its lowest volume. "Let's both call in dead to WE. Force Father to run his own corporation for once."

Tim reached to tap the screen and turn off the alarm. "Let's be honest, if you were gone, it would have that effect. If I stay home he's just out an R&D grunt." He shrugged. "Plus, you would want to demand updates every five minutes, convinced that everyone there was fucking up your work."

Damian gave Tim a reluctant hum of acknowledgement, running his hands up and down his sides. "It's true; I don't like people touching what's mine."

Am I yours? Tim thought about asking.

Before he could say it out loud, assuming he could’ve gotten up the courage, Damian sat up and kissed him one last time, then rolled out from under him. "May I have the bathroom first? I'll have to go in early to put on one of the spare suits I keep in my office."

"Sure." When the door closed behind him, Tim knew he should get up and at least get out some oatmeal bars or fruit Damian could take on his drive. Instead, he collapsed on his belly, pulled a pillow over his head, and groaned with frustration. Why couldn't he just get over himself and enjoy what was happening right now?

And it was super enjoyable! Last night had been amazing. Even now he had to fight off sex flashbacks: Damian kissing his palms, Damian asking him wordlessly to fuck his mouth, Damian responding like a dream to any word of praise—

Oh. Tim had called him sweetheart.

He tried to remember what Damian's response had been to the endearment, but his memory failed him, veiled by all the sex. He was pretty sure Damian hadn't responded in like fashion, though. And who could blame him? The last time he'd said that sort of thing Tim had run away for months.

Well, Alfred had always told Tim, "When in doubt, do the next indicated thing." In this case, the next indicated thing was feeding the man in his bathroom.

"Damian?" he called toward the door. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"Tea and fruit, please," was the response, muffled by splashing.

Tim dutifully went to the kitchen and flipped the kettle on, then got to work peeling an orange. He'd been paying attention enough to notice that Damian only drank Rishi Earl Grey in the normal course of events, so he'd bought a box to have around. Just in case.

He was taking the tea bags out of the travel mug he'd prepped when Damian walked in, toweling off his hair. "There you are. Here, take this before you go?"

The hesitant smile Damian gave him melted some of the ice that threatened to rime his stomach. Tim walked him to the door and kissed him goodbye.

He avoided looking at his own eyes while he shaved and brushed his teeth, afraid of what he'd find there. He didn't look as he applied the scar-covering makeup they all used to the hickey Damian had left on his neck. Even once he got to work, he found himself steering clear of his reflection. What if there were visual proof there of his own cowardice? Nobody else seemed to notice, but then, maybe they already thought of him that way.

By the time he got home, he was desperate for a distraction and grateful the ice had done its job so his ankle was healed enough to go out on patrol. As soon as he was under the open sky, he fired his grapple and soared away, letting the cool rush of air past his face put him into the right frame of mind for surviving whatever the night held. Out here, he didn't have to pretend. Out here, he had made certain he possessed whatever it took to do the job. It would have to be enough, for now.

day 85 here

[thechaoscryptid]

🌿 ⇢ give some advice on writer's block and low creativity

(ask me writer questions!)

I love this question! I have many thoughts on this and I'll try to make them coherent lmao. I'm pulling out my writing books for this too because in Gentle Writing Advice (pg. 199), Chuck Wendig pretty well summarizes my thoughts:

And therein lies the secret: Writer's block isn't all that bad. Because, if you really think about it, writer's block is sometimes like a warning light letting you know something is off. It is a tremor in the spider's web, or an ill wind blowing. It's doing us a service, as bad as it might feel. Think of writer's block as the voice of your intestinal flora, the choir of hypersentient bacteria in your gut that provides the insight of instinct. You can ignore them and push on - that's okay, too, as long as you fix in edit - and there's also nothing to say our instincts are uinversally correct. [...] My process in this regard needn't be your process: certainly there's value to mashing the accelerator and driving that machine as fast as you can till the thing either gets you over the finish line or explodes in a fiery ball before tumbling down a plot hole big enough to swallow Central Park. You can always fix it in subsequent drafts. The point stands, though, that writer's block isn't necessarily all bad. There's gold in them thar hills. The question is whether or not you can dig for it.

I think writer's block is unfairly maligned. That's my hot take on it. We should spend less time boohooing the fact we're blocked and more time figuring out why it's happening.

Throughout the above book, Wendig talks a lot about the writing process and how your life outside of writing relates to it, and there's also a great section that basically boils down to "block or breakdown," in which he posits that some of what writers consider "creative block" is actually something more serious (mental or physical illness, weird/wrong environment, etc).

Writer's block is my sign to check in with myself on both a writing and personal level to ask what's gone sideways. Sometimes I can push through it with an extra coffee and a little effort. More often, it's my sign to rest, chill out, cool my jets. Take a break for once.

In the same vein, low creativity!

AWFUL thing to experience. Terrible! The worst! There are fewer things I hate more than the times my creative well has turned to sludge and writing is a fucking slog.

And, like writer's block, realizing my well is running dry is a signal for me to stop, step back, and reassess.

I've actually been struggling really hard with both block and being creatively dry for like, four months now. I've been writing fuck all except 100 words of BG3 fic at a time on work breaks, and it's been rough.

What I have been doing?

Reading. A lot of reading, and analyzing style/structure/characterization to figure out what new elements I might be able to incorporate to a new creative project. I've been reading fantasy, sci-fi, classics, writing books, other nonfiction, books on myths - I'm really chewing through titles 😅

Resting. Not forcing myself to sit down and work on projects. I've actually avoided working on writing projects even on days I feel like I can or want to write.

Other creatively involved work. I've been cooking and baking more, as well as doing a lot of zine admin work. Shit that involves creative projects but doesn't necessarily involve creativity. I looooove creative-adjacent work for low creativity times!

Redoing old work. I'm talking like, rewriting and editing 5+ year old work from the ground up. You already have the raw material, and this is an easy, low-pressure way to get back in the saddle OR just keep those writing muscles limber (but also, you canNOT beat yourself up about "oh I was so bad how did anyone ever like this" that's not allowed).

Not putting pressure on myself to perform. This is a huge cause of creativity issues for me, ngl. But over the past two years or so, I've really been working hard at just allowing myself to create at my own pace. I feel, especially in fandom, people feel obligated to churn out content as quick as they can lest they get ignored and forgotten; learning to break out of that "gotta go fast" mentality has done WONDERS for not draining me as quickly, even if it still feels shitty to see more popular writers dropping a new 15k fic every week.

Slowly but surely, my creative well is refilling. My blocks are becoming fewer and farther between and when they do hit, I'm better prepared to know if it's something I can push through and fix later OR if it's something I really do need to sit back and consider.

So yeah!

I guess TL;DR my advice is basically (though easier said than done, I will admit):

Know thyself and thy limits

Step back, get your head clear, and assess

Do non-writing creative work that sparks joy

Remove yourself from the comparison game

[dcbbw]

Sunday Snippets

Happy Sunday, Tumblr! I hope everyone is safe and sound, warm and dry. This past week has been one for the books in my corner of the world: in no particular order, I have dealt with Tropical Storm Ian, dental work that required a drill and clamps, the aftermath of a pukey toddler, family toxicity, drama (work and otherwise), and I need to prepare for an interview on Tuesday!

Needless to say I have missed all the late-September tumblr event deadlines I signed up for, but still gonna write the stories and of course give proper credit. Below are snippets from what should be posting this week.

As usual, these are in a state of rough draft, and published versions may be edited/revised.

It’s all below the cut; happy reading!

Guy Time (tentative title), TRR DC AU guys + OC, For the Boys event:

Once the men were settled and a new hand had been dealt, conversation resumed.

“What are some qualities, for you, a woman absolutely has to have to make her a keeper?” Lonnie asked.

All eyes turned to Liam, who was tearing into a quesadilla while watching a frustrating second quarter.

“Me? Okay, we all know I want this with Riley B., but she isn’t the inspiration behind it. Penelope is. I need a team player who has some traditional values. It would be nice if she were gainfully employed, but she can be a stay-at-home if she wants … as long as she has goals and ambitions and is actively working on them. Dinner doesn’t have to be cooked when I get home … we can fix the meal together … but if I’m working late, something in the microwave or on top of the stove would be appreciated. Good morning kisses, at least starting the laundry would be great, someone I can both teach and learn from. She’d never have to do yard work, would be appreciative of presents and gifts, sees my efforts, and matches my level of commitment. In return, I’ll give her all of that back tenfold.”

“What about you, Lonnie? What are you looking for when you get back out there?” Leo tilted his beer bottle to his lips.

“She just needs to be breathing and one of three orifices should be functional. Loyalty would be nice, along with having gotten the streets out of her system.”

“Let me give you Penelope’s number,” Liam offered jokingly.

Lonnie rolled his eyes. “No, thanks! That chick cray. I still remember that fight you two had that night. Silly chick stood in the middle of the street cussing you out for over an hour. At four in the morning!”

Drake choked on his tamale. “What the hell happened?”

Liam shook his head. “I honestly don’t remember the details; I know we were both drunk and she kept calling me a limp dick motherfucker. So, I threw her ass out. At one point, she got naked asking Rhode Island Avenue who wanted all this.”

Siren Song, Perfect Match/Open Heart Crossover, #HYAW:

With a nod, the man hit the button, and they rode in silence; he exited first. The woman rode up two more floors and exited into the administrative wing of the medical facility, the conference room directly in front of her. Double wooden doors affixed with crucifixes were propped open; members of the audio/visual team were setting up laptops and projectors while hospital management clustered around a tall man wearing a navy-blue pinstriped suit. His auburn-colored hair was perfectly styled, and his long, slender fingers were curled around a styrofoam cup.

Her eyes narrowed.

Dr. Ethan Ramsey.

The rumors were true.

Her phone, ensconced in her pocket, vibrated. With a frown of impatience, she quickly removed it. She had a text message:

Leave the facility NOW. We’ll rendezvous at your place this afternoon.

Her lips pursed as she glanced at the good doctor again. With a sigh, the woman turned on her heel, pressing the down button.

I’ll see you soon, Dr. Ramsey.

Inside the elevator, she shrugged off her lab coat, folding it neatly before laying it in a corner of the car; she placed the clipboard and name badge atop it. She was firing back a reply as she walked towards the hospital’s parking garage.

Phase One of Operation Hybrid is in effect.

Inside the parking deck she looked around slowly before heading to her car. The level was full, and the only other person was a tall Asian gentleman; he had a full head of glossy black hair, dark eyes, and a five o’clock shadow covering his lower face.

He wore a black suit with a camouflage backpack and carried a cup of Starbucks in his hand. He acknowledged the woman with a terse nod when their eyes met. When they were close to crossing paths, his free hand went to his jacket pocket, patting frantically as if he had forgotten something.

The woman ignored him, her thumb pressing against the car remote. The man whirled swiftly, silently with a taser in his hand. He aimed it at the woman’s side and squeezed the trigger firmly. Thin, bluish-white streams of electricity traveled through the distance. Caught unawares, the woman went down with a pained cry. The man stepped closer, the heels of his oxford shoes tapping against the concrete floor. He pulled the trigger again before stooping to retrieve her purse.

He removed her wallet, rifling quickly; he left everything intact other than her driver’s license. Her cellphone was nestled in a snug compartment; he pocketed that as well. Tossing the purse onto the ground, the toe of his shoe prodded her once; no movement, but acrid smoke wafted from her body and the smell of burnt wiring scented the air.

With a smirk of satisfaction, he returned to his car and drove off.

One down, one to go.

The Price of Everything, TRR/Platinum AU, @choicesprompts Prompt #2::

It was four weeks past the wedding, three weeks since the miscarriage; while the grief had not lessened, life was beginning a return to normal for the young couple. Kiara spent the first 72 hours following the medical emergency in a private wing at Stormholt Samaritan Hospital, Liam constantly at her side. Once home at the Palace, Liam insisted she stay on bedrest, and he personally tended to her every need. Kiara insisted she was fine with no ill effects, but Liam continued to care for his wife.

One morning, she sat in front of her vanity mirror, wrapped in a sinfully soft white robe watching her husband's reflection as he ran a wide-toothed comb through her tresses.

“I’m agreeable to an annulment,” she said quietly to the mirror.

Liam looked up; there was a frown on his lips, but a flame of hope flared in is eyes before dying out.  “What are you speaking of?”

“The reason for our union is ... no more.” Her voice cracked slightly. “We can go back to being who we were before.”

Liam looked puzzled. “We were good friends who had sex. Isn’t that what we are now?”

Kiara shook her head slightly. “Exactly! We aren’t even best friends! Sex is not a basis for marriage. It isn’t a reason to stay tethered to duty. Let’s get an annulment and you can find someone you LOVE, Liam! I can return to New York and my job. We don’t have to stay married.”

Liam pondered her offer. In the weeks following the loss of their child, Liam had spent every night after Kiara fell asleep searching for Riley Brooks, but he and the Crown’s security team repeatedly drew blanks.

It was as if she had disappeared from the face of the earth.  

The King procured the services of Interpol, New Scotland Yard, the FBI, local law enforcement jurisdictions, and private investigators to assist. But there were simply not enough details.

Her phone number was no longer in service. The bank account information the Crown had on file for her was no longer valid. The bar she used to work at had been torn down, replaced by high-rise condos.

The sole contact Liam had for Riley was of no use. The King had no physical description, no last name, no address for the person. All Liam knew was a first name and occupation.

Good luck trying to find a waiter named Daniel in New York City.

Liam worried his lower lip as he considered how to word his response. True, if there had been no child, he and Kiara would never have considered cohabitation, let alone marriage.

But there had been a baby.

No one, not even their parents, knew.

An annulment after less than 10 days of marriage would cause tongues to wag faster and more furiously than a child conceived out-of-wedlock.

And as horribly selfish as it was, if they separated now, Kiara had something to look forward to. Liam had nothing.

Tagging: @jared2612​ @ao719​ @burnsoslow​ @marietrinmimi​ @merridithsmiscellany-blog​ @queenjilian​ @indiacater​ @kingliam2019​ @bebepac​ @liamxs-world​ @mom2000aggie​ @cmestrella​ @liamrhysstalker2020​  @neotericthemis​ @twinkleallnight​ @umccall71​ @superharriet​  @busywoman​ @gabesmommie1130​ @tessa-liam​ @phoenixrising308​ @beezm​ @gardeningourmet​ @lovingchoices14​ @foreverethereal123​ @mainstreetreader​ @angelasscribbles​ @lady-calypso​ @emkay512​ @jovialyouthmusic​ @21-wishes​ @princessleac1​ @charlotteg234​ @queenrileyrose​ @alj4890​ @yourfavaquarius111​ @motorcitymademadame​​ @bbrandy2002​​

In case you’re interested: @choicesficwriterscreations​ @lizzybeth1986​​

[appalamutte]

drafted up a rough nhl bitty idea over the summer that i’ve worked on here and there, and honestly i can’t stop thinking about the fictional baltimore team i created for that fic

Luca DiPietro, a Baltimore native, filed an application for starting a franchise in the city when rumors were floating around that Buffalo was in the process of obtaining its own. He’d been a long-time lover of the sport, growing up skating with neighborhood kids and taking his own family up to New York to see the Rangers every once in a while. It was a dream to have a team right there in the city, though, and DiPietro fought with the NHL for months for them to agree to tack a third expansion team on with Buffalo and Vancouver.

In the end, it paid off. 1970 saw the addition of three new teams: the Buffalo Sabres, the Vancouver Canucks, and the Baltimore Nationals, raising the total count of teams from twelve to fifteen.

The Nationals quickly grew in popularity in the area. No longer did fans have to travel to Philadelphia to see a game. Tickets all but sold out for the first-ever home opener in the 1970-1971 season, and they continued to sell out all throughout the season and onward. The team wasn’t good or anything, barely more than a bunch of rookies, but they were spirited and passionate and young.

In the 1971-1972 season, the Nationals handed a massive upset over the Canadiens—the previous Stanley Cup Champions—in the first round of playoffs, shocking the league all over. The stadium was bleeding black and gold (team colors based on George Calvert’s family crest, who was the founder of the Maryland colony), and even though the Nationals were kicked out by the Rangers in the next round, the city celebrated for weeks. It was one of the first times an expansion team delivered such a massive and unexpected victory, especially in the playoffs. The momentum of that win carried well into the next season, leading the Nationals once again to the second round of playoffs.

In 1974, the NHL expanded into Washington, D.C. with the Washington Capitals, which immediately started turning heads. Talk went around about a rivalry forming, given the two cities’ close proximity and the fact the Nationals fanbase was effectively halved and given to the Capitals.

Though nothing came about (then). The teams actually liked each other, at least in terms of sports and fandoms. When the Capitals first traveled up to Baltimore and played the Nationals, the stadium was a bright mix of black and gold and red and white and blue. Both sides cheered when the other side scored, because both teams had fans on both sides.

Then the name change was forced in 1975. The league argued that it was confusing to have the Capitals and the Nationals so close together, and despite Baltimore having the name first, it only made sense for Washington to keep the patriotic name.

So over the summer, Baltimore had to rebrand. They were changed from the Nationals to the Harbors, they changed their colors to black, red, and white, their head coach at the time retired and so they had to change coaches. It all left a sour taste in Baltimore’s mouth, especially when the team recorded one of their worst seasons in 1975-1976, second only to their inaugural 1970-1971 season.

Some speculate this is where the Baltimore/Washington rivalry began. Others speculate it was when Washington beat Baltimore in every single game they played against one another in 1976-1977. A few say it started when Washington fans virtually destroyed the lobby of the arena after Baltimore knocked them out of the playoffs in 1979.

It started somehow and it grew to be the most brutal rivalry in the entire league, arguably out of all the major four leagues on the continent. It was deep seeded and vicious. It was stronger than the Canadiens/Maple Leafs rivalry, the Pens/Flyers rivalry, the Rangers/Islanders rivalry.

Where Capitals/Harbors games used to be friendly and collective, they were now hostile and rough. Players fought easily, more often, the ice was chippy, the fans were combative and dirty. In 1985, a man wearing a Harbors jersey in Washington was pushed around by a group of Capitals fans, ending in a fight that left two arrested and three with injuries bad enough to be hospitalized for the night. In 1987, a couple of Harbors fans harassed a family wearing Capitals jerseys to the point that the franchise was sued for not having proper security, as the family felt their lives were in danger for the entirety of the first period (they ended up leaving during intermission).

In 1991, the league had to step in and threaten both franchises of being disbanded if they couldn’t control the fans. No one knew how to do so, so it ended up that between 1991-1995, the teams didn’t play each other unless they were in neutral territory (usually Philadelphia).

The rivalry did eventually die down throughout the 90s, though even to this day games are stiff and tense.

In 1997, the Harbors had their third and final name change due to a change of ownership. Luca DiPietro had to sell the franchise to a businessman from out west because his health was deteriorating and he wasn’t sure how much longer he had. For a few months, it was unsure whether or not the Harbors were to even stay in Baltimore at all; however, the new owner—a tech entrepreneur from Seattle—relocated to Maryland and changed the franchise to the Baltimore Crabbers, in honor of Maryland’s history in crabbing.

Fans were hesitant and vocal about their disappointment, though in 1999 Baltimore won it’s first ever Stanley Cup in franchise history, beating the Dallas Stars in game six, and suddenly everyone thought the new brand and name was lucky.

Especially when the Crabbers won the Cup again in 2000, and 2004. Out of nowhere and in the matter of five seasons, the team went from a bottom 16 team to a solid playoffs contestant and serious contender for the cup. This was in no part only thanks to the new leadership, but also to the roster’s multiple heavy hitters: Anthony Bagshaw, a center from Mississauga who averaged roughly 55 goals a season at his prime; Gordey Sokolov, a winger from St. Petersburg, Russia who scored more PPG than anyone else in the league in both 1999 and 2000; Matthew Quinn, a goalie from Rochester who still holds the record for most shutouts in franchise history to this day; and Henri Bourassa, a defenseman from Quebec City who won the James Norris Memorial Trophy four years straight from 2001-2004.

The four were close, but that wasn’t always the case.

Quinn was the first on the roster in 1994 and had only one season as a rookie before the starting goalie retired due to injury. He was immediately promoted to starting goalie, even when Baltimore secured a trade for Minnesota’s starting goalie, because his SV% was beyond-good (better than Minneosta’s) and his young age was only a bonus. He floundered though, missing saves left and right, letting pucks seemingly slide right in. This was all only exasperated when Bagshaw joined the team that same season. 

Quinn and Bagshaw both played in the OHL and were rivals. Like, they hated each other. Both on rivaling teams in the OHL, both at the top of their respective teams. When the two were on the ice together it was noticeable—tangible, even—that there was bad blood between them. Bagshaw hated Quinn because Quinn was a pain in the ass to score on, and Quinn hated Bagshaw because when he was able to score, he was such a “goddamn arrogant fucking asshole” about it.

It was a cruel trick of fate the two ended up on the same team. (Not me shipping my own original characters when they don’t even end up together in canon my mind.)

Their bad blood was noticeable even on NHL ice, even when they were on the same team. They worked out their differences though, mainly due to the veterans forcing them to room together on roadies all season long and sit beside each other every single time the team ate out. Eventually, they became friends, maybe even best friends, realizing that both were good players and the hatred didn’t make sense when they weren’t competing against one another anymore. They continued to room together the season after that, and after that. Quinn introduced Bagshaw to his future-wife when they were playing in Buffalo (she was a childhood friend of Quinn’s), and Bagshaw was the one who practically took care of Quinn when he broke his shoulder and missed out on half of the 2002-2003 season.

Then Sokolov came along in 1996, drafted straight from Russia, and instantly there was on-ice chemistry between him and Bagshaw. Their line just clicked in a rare way and they were able to be the best-performing line in the entire league within two seasons. No matter who the other winger was, Bagshaw and Sokolov would dominate the ice and the puck together. Coupled that with Quinn’s goaltending and the Crabbers were a force to be reckoned with.

Bourassa joined the team in 1998 from the QMJHL. He was a quiet kid with a meek personality, tall and broad and taking up space against his will, though when he was on the ice he was a mastermind of receiving turnovers and shifting play out of their defensive zone. He was also a hell of a checker and, funnily enough, hated fighting despite his critical body hits. Bagshaw immediately took him under his wing, therefore pulling Bourassa into the group with Quinn and Sokolov (against his will again, though he never regretted it once he got to know them).

They were dubbed by fans—and later, the media—as the Fantastic Four (corny, I know). They were inseparable and unstoppable, always together on and off the ice, leading Baltimore to the cup all three times and being the faces of the franchise for the eleven years they were together. They were in each other’s weddings, celebrated holidays together, took a trip to Hawaii together with their families in the 2005 off season. They were even up there as one of the longest-tenured quartet of players for a single franchise, all until Sokolov was unexpectedly traded to the Kings in 2009.

With that, everything changed. After Sokolov, Bourassa—the youngest of the four—suffered a career-ending injury to his knee in a playoff game against New Jersey in 2012 and retired that summer. Bagshaw played his final season in 2014-2015, retiring to pursue a career in broadcasting. Quinn was the first to join the team and the last to leave it, retiring just a season later due to his age and wanting to finally have time with his family. Sokolov retired right after the 2017-2018 season, marking the complete end to their era.

It was a heartbreaking time for Crabber fans, seeing the greats move on, though that didn’t change much for the team. The Crabbers were still up there as one of the elites, maybe not serious contenders for the cup but still solid playoff teams.

Luca DiPietro, the starter of it all, died in 2000, and the following year the Crabbers started construction on a brand new arena in his honor. It sits right off the Baltimore Harbor and is named after him—the Luca DiPietro Dome, dubbed by fans as the “DiPi-Dome” and sometimes also as “Harbor View.”

The Crabbers progressed all the way to the Stanley Cup Finals in 2017, the year right after Quinn retired (and the season right before Bitty joins), being beaten by the Penguins. It’s the furthest they’ve made it since their 2004 Cup win, and it’s with the most promising roster of players since the Fantastic Four’s prime days. The media has a field day with the headlines, the fans apply pressure for them to win it in 2018, the players feel the effect of it all in a more grueling and demanding off-season training.

Where is Bitty in all this? He starts playing competitive, full-contact hockey much earlier on with the Atlanta Fire, he goes to Samwell on a full-ride scholarship (though Jack doesn’t go, so they haven’t met yet), and he leads the Wellies to winning the Frozen Four in both his junior and senior years. The Crabbers scout him all throughout his sophomore and junior years, offer him a two-year contract effective as soon as he graduates, and sign him in the spring of 2016.

He joins the roster in the fall of 2017, right in the thick of the pressure for the Crabbers to win the Stanley Cup again, and falls right in with a whole new group of players (more to come on that later).