#Perhaps I have a thing for women who could break me in half

[sparrow-the-tired-lesbian]

Me: These are my comfort characters! My blorbos! They make me happy! 🥰🥰🥰

The characters:

#Perhaps I have a thing for women who could break me in half #loki #sylvie laufeydottir #hela odinsdottir #ravonna renslayer #valkyrie #loki marvel #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #lesbian #lgbtq #women loving women

[queers-gambit]

Tell Me Every Terrible Thing

[ part one of two ]

prompt: you embark on a secret but passionate affair with the Rogue Prince, and when his wife, Rhea Royce, passes away, he chooses you to wed next - a decision that angers his niece and changes history.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!Hightower!reader only description given: red hair

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 5.6k+

note: what the fuck is this, Cherry? also two parts 'cause author gets carried away!

warnings: show spoilers, cursing, author has small bouts of feministic ideas, author also really likes the "little birds" storyline (let her live!), wonky brain is wonky, i think hurt and comfort, angst, very mild NSFW (brief female receiving oral), technically alternative timeline 'cause this goofy-ass author has an overactive imagination, #icanmakehimworse, another reader-episode-insert (this warning is for the fucking losers in my inbox).

part two: "Tell me every terrible thing you ever did, And Let Me Love You Anyway," - Edgar Allan Poe

"How angry do you think he'll be with me?"

You offered your best friend, The Realm's Delight, Crowned Heir to the Iron Throne, Princess Rhaenyra, a unamused, stale look. Sarcastically, you replied, "Oh, come now, Nyrie, why would your father be angry? It couldn't be because you rejected every suitor His Grace put before you, or even how you abruptly ended the tour with two months remaining. What father would be angry after that?"

She groaned, "I know, I know, you don't have to be so right all the bloody time. I just... I couldn't do it anymore, you saw what it was like," her head bowed and you knew the girl was truly overwhelmed by her 'job' picking a suitor.

"This was no easy feat to arrange, Princess," you spoke diplomatically, aware of the ship's crew dotting around the royal ship. "Our fathers went through much difficulty to ensure this tour's success, Princess, and I'd imagine neither will be thrilled by our early arrival."

"But it's just - "

"I know," you soothed with a knowing, sympathetic smile. Your arm extended around her, her head dropping to your shoulder for comfort. "In an ideal world, women would have a real say in their futures. Perhaps, that is what you're meant to do, Nyrie... Perhaps you're meant to break this wheel, give the other half of humanity a fighting chance against the men who have long suppressed us. Being heir is a monumental stereotype to shatter, but most women are not born into royalty and have nobody protecting or defending them."

She picked her head up to stare at you for a single moment, then nodded slowly, "That's a lot of pressure."

"Less if you pick a respectable man to help you lead," you advised softly, reaching to caress her cheek briefly. "You're to be Queen, Nyra, which means you need a King Consort that the common folk will respect, who will play his part in the courts to come. I know it's not ideal, my friend, but it's not meant to be - it's meant to be strategic." You paused, adding, "Similar to Ali marrying your father, yes? That was a strategic move on my father's end. Now it's up to you to chose your own match, to plot your own strategy."

"Who would you see me marry?"

"In truth? I'm unsure if anyone would fit the bill perfectly, so, I don't know who I could see you with. Definitely someone smart, though."

She only hummed, sighing deeply and making you frown. Before another word could be said, there came a distant screech that sounded all too familiar - though you refused to let it show that you knew this particular dragon's sound.

Nyra moved away from the ship's railing to stare longingly up into the sky, and about a minute later, without visible sight of any threat, Ser Criston Cole was shouting, "Take cover!"

And then, like a bird swooping to snatch a fish, a crimson dragon descended from the cover of clouds - seemingly materializing from nowhere. The large, long, slithery beast with wings knocked into the ship's main mast; jolting everyone on board enough to topple over.

You tried to stabilize the Princess, but you lost balance and dropped to your knees as Cole rushed to help Rhaenyra to her feet. When able, you looked to the sky; grinning to yourself as you recognized the retreating Blood Wyrm. Seeing the distinct form of Caraxes made you giddy with anticipation, however, that was short lived as you clocked Rhaenyra's gaze of awe and wonder.

It seems she was excited for her uncle's return, too. Though, it won't be till later that you learn the extent of her adoration.

Less than an hour later, the ship was docking and you escorted Princess Rhaenyra from aboard; her guards surrounding you both as you trekked to the Red Keep. "Just... Perhaps try to stay invisible," you advised your friend, arm-in-arm. "The King won't be pleased if you interrupt court, even just by being there. With luck, we won't be noticed."

She agreed softly, continuing on. She started fiddling with her necklace, the piece of Valyrian Steel jewelry that her uncle, Daemon, had gifted her years ago before Queen Aemma passed away. Your lover had told you the Princess was owed a piece of her Valyrian history, and since he could not gift a sword to a young lady, the necklace was chosen, crafted, and gifted.

When you returned to the Red Keep, it was just in time for court to be called to session and your friend was all too eager to join. "Nyra," you warned, hand in hers.

"It's all right," she assured, "come, it must be Daemon - "

"No, I should return to my chamber. Don't piss your father off too much," you warned her with a smirk, watching her grin in response, squeeze your hand, and then file into the Throne Room with the other members of court.

You retreated to your old room, sighing in relief when you discovered nothing was disturbed. "My Lady!" A voice gasped at the open door. You glanced over, smiling at Milah, your usual handmaiden, and opening your arms when she rushed forward. "You're not supposed to be back yet! Oh!" She tutted, looking you over. "I'll get your bed made and - "

"No, it's fine - "

"Nonsense, let me do this," she insisted, already busying around the room. "I was wondering why they were bringing things into the foyer - must be all the Princess' luggage, hmm?"

"Yeah," you sighed, helping her strip the bed and change the sheets. "It was strange," you admitted, "the men, I mean, and the way they all competed for her hand in marriage."

"Did you expect anything else?"

"I did not think they'd honestly kill one another. Though it was more so their pride than the Princess they fought over."

Milah smirked, "Sounds about right. Well, what of you? Anyone catch your eye?"

"Of course not," you sighed a little sadly.

"Still hung on the Prince, aren't you, my Lady?"

"Perhaps," you mused.

You spent the better part of an hour gossiping with Milah before she had to go grab a few things, but promised she'd send your belongings up as soon as possible. You thanked her, walked her out, assuring you were just going to get a bath or something, and just as you shut and locked your chamber door, gasped when a pair of hands seized your waist.

"Daemon!" You hissed when you saw the short, white locks of your surprise guest. "The bloody fuck is wrong with you?" You demanded, turning in his grip to shove your hands into his chest. "What're you doing here? Want to get us caught?"

"Three years," he grit, gathering you in his arms to heave upward and force your legs around his waist if you wanted to keep balance, "three fucking years I've been gone - away - missing you, do not deprive me a moment more."

"Someone will come looking," you whispered, caressing his face as your forehead met his. "And perhaps I want a moment to just look at you, 's been years," you breathed. "You cut your hair," you commented, running your hands through the short strands.

"I cut my hair," he agreed softly, just holding you close and tight.

"I like it... But I'll miss braiding it."

"I will, too," he admitted. He nuzzled closer, inhaling your neck sharply, boldly licking a flat tongue up your pulse point to make you shudder lightly.

"Daemon," you whispered, pulling his head back so you could look in his eyes, beaming, "I missed you, too."

"Viserys is arranging a lunch for my return," he informed, turning so he could approach your newly-made four-poster bed; dropping you flat on your back with a grin. "Which roughly translates into only allotting a few minutes to make up for lost time."

"We will have time later - "

"I overheard Viserys saying he and Otto intend to take evening tea with you regarding the Princess' return from tour," he eased, reaching to spread your legs, bunching your skirts. "But I will call upon you tomorrow? Yes? Officially?"

"If you insist," you teased, letting him finally descend to smash his lips against yours. In truth, you were used to his empty promises of 'calling on you officially' because of his marriage to Lady Royce, but it was his way of telling you without words that he wished it was you instead of Rhea.

Daemon groaned, melting into your form; breathing heavily. "I've missed you past words," he whispered, nuzzling your nose with his. "But for now, I just need a taste - "

"We don't have time - "

"We'll be fast. Tell me, love," he nipped your pouting lips, soothing his tongue over the puckered skin, "have you taken another in my absence?"

"Of course not," you hissed in offense.

"Good," he nodded, kissing you sweetly.

"Need I ask?"

"There were no concubines," he mused, "though, they were offered, I did not accept. So, we'll be quick - faster than quick," he promised, pawing at your undergarments and exposing your dampening cunt to his sight. "I'll take my time with you later, but for now, I need this," he all but seethed before diving tongue-first into your core.

His spit mixed with your arousal, creating a slippery mess.

"Shit," you hissed, grabbing his shorter hair as his tongue flattened to lap at your entrance, dripping in your essence. One of his hands held your thighs apart for his access, the other releasing his cock from the pair of breeches he wore. Daemon groaned at the taste of you, lapping wildly like a man starved, and stroking his bare cock in rhythm with his ministrations.

It truly took no time at all once he found your clit and sucked mercilessly, the hand holding your thighs now extended up to paw roughly at your tits. Alternating his tongue around your sloppy cunt added to your heightening pleasure, swirling his tongue as he bobbed and shook his head - making an absolute mess, and causing your climax to shatter your mind and soul.

Your legs twitched, spine curled, stomach contracted as your arms quivered from the rush of adrenaline; hand slapped over your mouth to keep your moans to a minimum. You grabbed his hair so tightly, he groaned in mock pain; legs then contracting to a suffocating grip around his ears and head while Daemon met his own end, spending in his hand whilst milking you for all you had.

He panted with satisfaction when he pulled back, grinning at you in mischief when you released your hold on him. "Good fuckin' girl," he praised, standing to his feet only to slither over top of you. "Like not a day's gone by, huh?" He whispered, kissing you messily, smearing your cum on your tongue; grinding his bare cock into your recovering core to make you shudder. "Take a moment, then get ready," he whispered. "I expect to see you at the celebrations... Wear that dress I got you for your fifth-and-twentieth nameday," he smirked, adding, "if you'd so please, my darling."

You chuckled, "You magically learned manners during the war?"

"Perhaps," he mused, pecking your lips again.

"Hey, Daemon?"

"What is it, my sweet one?" He asked, seeing the sincerity in your eyes and hearing the seriousness in your voice - something in his heart jumping.

"Would you tell me about it all later? The war, I mean? Would you tell me what you've endured?"

"I do not think it's a tale befitting a lady's ears."

"Please? I wish to know..."

"Then I will tell you," he promised, "but only if you wear that dress."

Your eyes rolled in humor as Daemon stood. You watched him wipe his cum on a spare rag, tossing it away, and after one last kiss, was leaving out of the secret passageway's door. Taking another moment, you finally stood on weak legs and unlocked the main door, preparing how you could for your day before Milah returned.

After arriving at the luncheon, you made a beeline for your father, greeting him happily before explaining your surprise reappearance. He filled you in on that day's court, explaining that Prince Daemon was back; and you felt almost guilty for the way your skin was still set ablaze from your lover's earlier visit.

For all Otto's faults, he was still your father, and you felt guilty for sneaking around with Daemon behind his back. Your father ushered you off to mingle, insisting he was only there for the King; and no, he wasn't hungry. So, you parted ways with a chaste peck to your forehead; the feeling of his scratchy beard lingering on your guilt-riddled flesh.

"Sister, what a surprise!" Alicent happily distracted by greeting you with a bright grin. You adjusted course to approach the Queen, King, and newly-returned Prince. "Oh, what a lovely dress you've chosen," she complimented with ease, reaching for your hand. "You always do have the best eye for clothes, I feel as if need you to live in my wardrobe, tell me what to wear everyday."

"Thank you, Your Grace, I'd be honored," You smiled at her, holding her hand, looking to the others. "My King," you curtsied to Viserys, glancing at Daemon and bowing your head respectfully, "my Prince, how nice to see you, again. Welcome home."

"Thank you, my Lady," he smirked. "Might I welcome you home as well? I hear you've been gone from the Capital."

You hummed with a nod, "I was on tour with the Princess, my Prince. I've only arrived home today, as well - though not by dragonback."

He eyed you up and down, offering, "I must agree with the Queen, my Lady, that is a lovely dress you've chosen."

You pet the black material, smiling genuinely, "Thank you, my Prince. It's one of my favorites."

"I can see why, given how beautiful you look," he flirted, and from behind you and Alicent, you could hear your father scoff.

"Thank you," you whispered. "What conversation did I rudely interrupt before?"

"Oh, nothing of importance," Daemon told you, looking to his brother and your sister.

"Because we spoke of how Daemon, here, was always Mother's favorite," Viserys grinned. "Do you want to know, my Lady? About how much Mother adored Daemon?" He asked you, his little brother trying to drone over him - but Viserys was determined to tell you the examples he could think of regarding his brother's favoritism.

You giggled from both Viserys' stories and Daemon's evident embarrassment.

However, almost awkwardly, on Alicent's other side, Princess Rhaenyra approached the group and stood amongst you. You knew the King must be unhappy with his daughter, but did not voice any opinion since you were not the source of disappointment at the moment. Instead, you listened to the King's complimenting words to his brother; thinking it was interesting that Daemon was so egotistical and yet, flushed under his brother's praise. Princess Rhaenyra waited until a natural lull to tell Daemon, "Congratulations on your victory."

It was awkward as Viserys just glared at her, Rhaenyra's expression falling short. Daemon covered smoothly, "Thank you, Princess."

Trying to save the tension, your sweet sister offered, "Perhaps Prince Daemon would care for a tour of the gallery? He hasn't yet seen the new tapestries gifted to you by Norvos and Qohor."

Viserys nodded and whispered, "Oh, oh," mockingly. He asked his brother, "Would you like to see the tapestries?" But by the end, he broke character and laughed with his brother; the latter who whom you knew spat on trivial things - such as tapestries and such. Through their laughter, Viserys proclaimed to his wife, "He has no interest in such things!"

"But thank you for the offer, sister," you smiled at her, trying to reassure her when her husband laughed in her face. "The tapestries are very beautiful, you've chosen a grand place to display them. I saw them on my way here."

"I'd like to see them," Rhaenyra jumped in, seemingly to Alicent's aid - something she'd not done in an age considering the tension between them. You just smiled politely, seeing the way Viserys dropped his grin when he looked at his daughter with distain while the rest of you looked away sheepishly.

"Then you should not deprive yourself."

Rhaenyra offered a pained, pursed smile, "I shall enjoy them alone."

You, Alicent, and Daemon all stared after Rhaenyra with varying degrees of pity as she walked away to sit solemnly by herself on a distant bench while Viserys went on about his and Daemon's youth; over Daemon being their mother's favorite. However, Alicent excused herself to follow the saddened Rhaenyra, perhaps to offer the Princess comfort in her father's anger. The King looked ready to protest, but instead just shook his head in disappointment.

Viserys turned you and Daemon away from the sight of the girls, showing off the Godswood in bloom; your father approaching you three stiffly. "Your Grace," he bowed to Viserys, then nodded in resepct, "my Prince. Daughter," he smiled, trying to instigate, "how was tour with Princess Rhaenyra?"

"Oh, as eventful as a Royal Tour can be," you smiled, deflecting, "though I must admit, while seemingly exciting at some parts, I'm sure it pales terribly in comparison to the Prince's adventures in the Stepstones." Viserys smirking broadly at your redirection. "I do wonder, what brought the war to an end? We've heard rumor, but surely the Prince might know for sure what brought the Triarchy down?"

"Surely," The King nodded, looking to Daemon expectedly.

The Rogue Prince smirked and readjusted his stance, deflecting, "Perhaps a conversation for later."

"Oh, come now, brother!"

"Your Grace," Otto interrupted, "I do apologize, but there are matters at hand that require your attention. The Tully's still - "

He sighed and waved your father off, "Yes, yes... Well," Viserys nodded, "I'll call upon you both later."

"Your Grace," you instantly curtsied.

"Your Grace," Daemon bowed right after. Viserys smiled and nodded back at you both, patted his brother's shoulder, turned, and when he walked away, Otto followed with a single look to you and Daemon.

"Daughter," he bid curtly - and you read between the lines. He really wanted to say, "Do not linger around the Prince."

When the King moved, his usual procession of advisors, guards, and entourage followed right after. You sighed as almost all of the Godswood cleared out, Daemon eyeing you as he readjusted his stance; subtly reaching out to pet your hand with his fingers.

"Daemon," you warned quietly.

"Nobody is watching us," he smirked. "You look beautiful, love. I'll have to buy you more dresses, you wear them so well."

"I cannot believe I will not see you tonight," you whispered with a pout.

"I will call on you tomorrow," he reminded.

You opened your mouth, but another voice answered. "Sister," Alicent called, you looking over and smiling innocently. You caught sight of Princess Rhaenyra glaring at her uncle, but didn't think much of it.

"I look forward to your tales from the Stepstones," you told him calmly, offering a curtesy.

He took your hand, pressing a soft kiss to the back, "I look forward to any time spect together, my Lady."

You hummed in contentment before stepping away, instantly taking Alicent's arm when close enough. "What was that about? Daemon looks so smitten!" She whispered with a growing grin.

"He was being polite," you whispered back, "and simply being Daemon - you know how he is. He's got three years of mischief to make up for."

"I see," she giggled. "He's quite handsome with the short hair, isn't he? It suits him well."

"I have to agree," you gossiped. "I can see why the ladies of court have missed him so."

Your younger sister giggled, smiling at you, offering, "I've missed you greatly. Come... I wish to hear of your time away."

"Oh, sister, please, I've only just returned."

"But... Wouldn't you tell me before the King?" She whispered.

You paused, then nodded, "Got me there, sister-dearest."

"We'll take tea together," she decided, leading you around the Keep until she saw a familiar face she knew. "Talya, my sister and I wish to take tea in the gardens, please. Privately, of course, so do not announce it," she directed the handmaiden. "We'll be in the gazebo in the rose gardens, bring tea, sandwiches, and my sister's always loved those peach crumbles?"

"I know the dessert," she nodded, smiling at you. "Can I interest you, Your Grace, in anything specific?"

"No, but bring enough for us both. Come, sister."

You three parted ways, Alicent leading you to the gardens as promised. She dismissed anyone in the area, even telling her guards to wait at the front hedges to give you ideal privacy while deeper in the roses at the gazebo. While sitting, you exchanged gossip about what happened while you were away, Alicent happy to catch you up because she was happy to finally have a friend, even if it were a sister, back in her corner.

You were happy, too.

While you loved Rhaenyra, the tension between her and Ali made you feel in the middle despite both parties assuring you "you weren't". Nyra was a good friend, your best, even! But it was something about your sister that was calming and assuring. She was trustworthy to a fault, but she was still your strongest pillar.

As Talya dressed your table with tea, lemon water, sandwiches, fruits, and other foods (including the peach crumbles), you giggled at Ali's retelling of whatever failed proposals occurred this past season you were away. When alone, at last, Ali turned to you in her padded chair and asked, "Tell me in truth, how was the tour? Why did you return early?"

"In truth, sister, vying men made the Princess uncomfortable. She did not need the two months more, she knew she was unhappy with the men so far presented to her."

Alicent sighed, "So, who does she intend to marry?"

"Yes," a new voice agreed, you both jumping in shock and looking up to see Viserys approaching with your father behind him. "Who does my daughter intend to wed, Lady Hightower?"

"Your Grace," you uttered, both you and Alicent standing in respect to bow your heads.

"Please, please," he permitted you both to sit, taking the lone chair across the table as your father remained standing. "I only wish for the unfiltered truth. I know what is said, I know what is reported, I know..." He sighed, "I know what my daughter might say, but please, Lady Hightower, what is the truth of it?"

"The truth, Your Grace, is that Rhaenyra was overwhelmed. Perhaps it was too long for her that she eventually, I'm not sure, shut down? She did not care towards the end which men was presented, she was overwhelmed with the options and pace at which everything moved."

"Kings and Princes before her have done the same, many Queens and Princesses embarking on their tours to find proper suitors," Otto reminded. "Why was this different, my Lady?"

"Because she is the first," you reminded. "Never before has a woman been named heir - she holds a different responsibility. Perhaps having everything thrown at her was too much, she has to filter through lesser men that would be King Consort. Nobody stood out, she became discouraged, and honestly, Your Grace?" You spoke earnestly, "I think it just made her sad. She did not want to disappoint you by choosing a man not worthy of being her King, so, she would rather face your anger in coming home early."

Alicent frowned but nodded to herself.

Otto adverted his eyes.

Viserys looked dejected, but sighed, "I see... Thank you for your words, my Lady, truly, you've always been a trustworthy advisor to the Queen, Princess, and I."

"It's the least I can do, Your Grace, since you and Queen Aemma - you - you were so kind to me when Mother passed. And Rhaenyra - to both Alicent and I - she was a true friend. I am in debt to you, Your Grace, and whatever I can do, be it just a simple different perspective, I am happy to provide."

"Well," he considered, "in the spirit of your unfiltered perspective, who would you see Rhaenyra marry?"

You blinked in shock, "Oh, Your Grace, I-I am not qualified to say."

"You serve as my Master of Whispers, do you not?" He smirked. "Speak, please."

You sighed deeply. With a small gulp, you blinked twice, then admitted, "I do not think my opinion matters, but... It would make sense to marry her to Ser Laenor Velaryon, would it not? He's a warrior who survived the Stepstones, is of Valyrian stock and blood, rides the dragon, Seasmoke. He's kind, brave, true, unmarried, heir to Driftmark. I think when it comes to filling the position of King Consort, Ser Laenor Velaryon would make a fine candidate."

Apparently, this was all Viserys needed to hear.

You could not sleep that night. You could not explain why, but something foul was in the air and prevented you from drifting off. So, you chose to browse your private library, select a literary favorite, and stroll the deadened halls of the Red Keep; reading by flickering torch light.

Good thing you were up and out, because one of your Little Birds chirped at you from the shadows. You looked around to see nobody in the hall, but another chirp directed your attention to a darkened alcove. "Hmm, oh, Kaela," you hummed, approaching her slowly and bending at the waist. "What is it, child?"

"I came as fast as I could."

"What's wrong?"

"I've seen something - something you'll want to know," she glanced up and down the hall, "but not anyone else."

"Come," you whispered, pushing her further back into the dark and sheltering yourselves safely. Once knelt before her, you asked the child, "All right. What is it you have seen, little one?"

"Do not get angry, my Lady..."

"I promise I won't," you spoke softly, confused - you never got angry at your Little Birds... Why start now?

"I-I saw... I saw the Prince Daemon and... Princess Rhaenyra."

You nodded slowly, asking quietly, "Where?"

"In the city, in a pleasure house."

You blinked, "And what were they doing?"

"What grown-ups do."

"I see. They were coupling?"

She shrugged, "No, just kissing, but it stopped fast. He left her there."

"He left her there? In the pleasure house?"

The little girl nodded. "The Prince looked sad... When the Princess tried to kiss him again, he pulled away... Then he left."

"Where did he go? After?"

She blinked, frowning, "My brother, Grenn, said he saw him at the pubs - but he was always on the move, very drunk. I came here right away."

"Good girl," you smiled, offering her whatever Gold Dragons from the pouch you usually kept on your person under your robe for times like this. "Where will you be tomorrow evening? I will bring you and Grenn supper."

She smiled, "We can meet you at the dock!"

"The dock?"

"He likes watching the boats."

"The docks, then. By the Fisherman's Pier?"

"No, Grenn like the Harper's Pier. They're not there around supper, they're still out at sea."

"Harper's Pier for supper," you agreed. "Go on."

The little girl looked around before scampering off down a different passageway and you stood from your knelt position with a stony look of tentative contemplation on your face. With a deep breath, you did the only thing you thought you could... You went to your father.

With a rapid knock at his chamber door, it took a moment or two before he was opening it - still dressed. "What is it, daughter?" He asked gruffly. "It's late, this should wait till morning."

"The castle is about to wake - "

"I know and I've much to attend to - "

"Father," you hissed, glancing up the hall.

He sighed and let you in, "What is it?"

"I carry scandalous news," you muttered, his door's lock echoing around you. "About the Princess Rhaenyra."

He turned to you sharply, you taking a step back in surprise. "You... Know?"

"About her sneaking around in a pleasure house?"

Otto frowned, "Do you know with who?"

You could not tell him, so you answered, "No, just that she was seen in disguise."

"Who told you this?"

"One of my Birdies."

"All right," he decided, nodding to himself, "thank you, daughter, for reporting this. I will... I will figure out what to say to the King."

"Should you say anything?"

"I'll figure it out - but now we both know."

You nodded, "So you knew before I came?"

"I was awoken an hour ago to hear this news."

You nodded slowly, "Then I will leave you to it."

"Thank you," he whispered, letting you peck his cheek in parting before slipping out of his chambers. With nothing left to do or anything else to say, you went back to your chambers as to limit your exposure to the castle's tenants.

The less that could say they saw you this night, the better.

Once safe in your chambers with a locked main door, you could do nothing else but (over)think, wishing to all the Seven Gods you didn't know what you knew. Information and knowledge was vital to maintain power, this is true, but it also made you dangerous - also a target. The more you knew, the bigger the target.

It was only a few hours after dawn when the secret passage doors to your chamber opened. You were braiding your hair, ignoring the man you knew to have the only balls to use that door - especially now.

"I've always wondered, if we had children, would they have white hair or waves of fire, like you? Perhaps something between?"

"Fuck off, Daemon."

"So, you've heard," he sighed deeply. "Won't you even look at me?"

"I can't stand the very thought of you right now, nor the actual sound, I'll lose my stomach if I have to look at you."

"Let me tell you the truth," he begged, "before I have to leave the Keep, let me tell you the truth. Let Viserys and everyone have their ideas and opinions, their lies and slander, but let me tell you!"

"Excuse me?" You asked, whirling around in your seat to glare at him fully. "Viserys banished you, again?"

"He did... Back to the Vale."

You scoffed, "Good... Your Lady wife awaits you."

"Viserys thinks I've sullied Rhaenyra's virtue. I do not need you thinking the same, so, please, let me tell you what happened - no matter how uncomfortable, please, let me tell you the truth."

"What difference does it make?"

"I can't have you thinking something more occurred. Was I tempted? Yes, but I refrained. Did I touch her? A little - but not how you think."

You sighed, shaking your head, "I don't care, you're returning to your wife in the Vale, and I will be rid of you. No matter for how long this time, you will be gone - "

"For a time, yes, but I intend to return for you."

"No, I think I'll let Father make me a match. I despised the North, it was too cold, so the handsome Cregan Stark is out. I don't mind Dorne, perhaps a Martel to marry? Or even a Tully of Riverrun?"

"Do not speak such atrocities to me."

"You're one to talk! Your niece, Daemon? The girl I consider my closest friend? You couldn't just find that whore you like and be satisfied with her? Couldn't wait a single day, could you? Huh? How fucking pathetic!"

"Perhaps you are not as close with Rhaenyra as you thought," he tisked, making you feel disarmed. He spent the next hour and a half explaining to you what happened the previous night, and despite your disgust, you just listened.

Knowledge was power.

"I will return," he sighed at the end, "and in that time, you can make your own decisions if you want me or not. But I will return and I will have you, if you will have me, and this foolishness will be behind us."

"I'll give you a single year. I will not wait for you longer than that," you whispered, tears streaming down your face. "I can't stand that you've done this, but I will wait one single year for you to find a way out of your marriage and back to me. Any longer than that, and I will simply move on. I do not want to live my whole life in the Red Keep, and the truth of it is, I cannot live in the Princess' shadow any longer. One year, Daemon."

"One year," he nodded, stepping closer. "My love, please - "

"Do not assume to touch me. Not after you've touched her," you snapped, stepping away. "Get out, I need to be alone, you have been banished - you need to go, you cannot be seen here." Your eyes rolled, muttering, "Probably have to go collect your whore for this banishment, too."

"Not this time," he smirked, "this time, I leave with my promise that I will return for you, my sweet Lady Hightower."

"Fuck off, you perverted Prince Daemon," you sassed, watching him slip out the door; shutting you in an echoing silence. Your heart ripped itself apart, making you wonder what the fuck you had done to deserve getting caught in such a scandalous affair. But you knew, in your heart, you'd do anything for Daemon - the thought sickening your stomach as you pondered how far this would all go.

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

#prince daemon targaryen #prince daemon #prince daemon targaryen x reader #prince daemon x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon #daemon x reader #daemon smut #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x fem!reader #daemon targaryen fanfic #house of the dragon #daemon house of the dragon #house of the dragon daemon #house of the dragon daemon targaryen #hotd daemon #hotd daemon targaryen #daemon hotd #daemon targaryen hotd #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd smut #hotd imagine

[solomons-finest-rum]

“As The Crow Flies” (Alfie Solomons x fem!Reader) — PART 2

SUMMARY — By all accounts Anna Gray died in Australia and had no business standing in Alfie’s living room, nor calling the man “darling” for that matter. But there you were, identical to the picture they took when they shipped you off to the colonies.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Thank you to everyone for words of encouragement and for waiting for the update 💗💗💗💗💗 Goodness, that was one hefty break. I hope the next part won't take me as much, but I can't exactly promise it will be fast, sorry about that. I think this is a part 2 out of 3 and then I'll do an epilogue, but that is still more of a draft than a plan.

WORD COUNT — 2,708

Masterlist

Tommy sat beside Polly in utter silence, watching the cigarette slowly burn between her fingers to the point where the heat nearly touched the skin. Tommy observed it with morbid fascination because it was something other to do than to stay with his own thoughts. And he would not dare to speak to Polly first—not after the news he had brought her this evening.

The clock chiming in the hall let them know it was nearly three o’clock in the morning, but still neither of them moved. The fire went out long ago and Tommy wondered in his solemn silence if Polly would accept a blanket.

“How could you tell me she was dead?” Polly suddenly asked the question Tommy had been dreading for the past hour and then she flicked the cigarette butt straight on the carpet. 

Tommy dared to look her in the eye then and immediately regretted that decision when he was met with nothing but hurt and steel-like anger.

“They told me she was, Pol. I went to the parish myself, saw the documents myself,” Tommy replied calmly.

That signature state of calm didn’t come to him as quickly as it used to, he noticed. These days it required more and more effort; or perhaps the things he chose to do got worse with time.

“Fucking nuns,” Polly hissed and shook her head. “You should have pressed them harder! Should’ve made them talk!”

“Then what, hm? Threaten them? Put a gun to their head, eh? There was nothing else they would have told me, Pol, they didn’t know.”

“I don’t care what! We shouldn’t have just abandoned her like that. Now look what happened, she’s a hostage with another fucking monster, just ready to put his paws on her whenever he pleases!” Polly stood up abruptly and Tommy wondered for a moment if perhaps he shouldn’t slip some laudanum in her drink. She looked frenzied, her hair in disarray and eyes bloodshot. The way Tommy saw it, she was half-ready to walk to Margate on foot and kill Alfie herself.

“Polly,” Tommy moved to stand in front of her just in case she had any ideas. He put both hands on her shoulders to reassure her. “Polly, look at me. Alfie Solomons, yeah? Alfie Solomons is just about the last man you’d find putting his hands on anybody that didn’t ask for it, all right? I swear this much.”

“Jesus, I don’t care what you swear anymore, Tommy!” Polly scoffed and tore herself away. “The man is insane, you said so yourself—many times in fact! We all remember what he did to Arthur! Or have you forgotten?!”

“No,” Tommy replied stiffly. “Perhaps he’s insane, but he’s not cruel to women, Polly, never has been. He doesn’t have the reputation.”

“Well, neither do you, that doesn’t mean one wife’s not buried, the other’s escaped!”

Though Tommy would never admit it, that hurt immensely. That was the problem with people who loved him, he supposed. They knew exactly where to hit to draw the most blood. He willed his face to return to the stony mask it was before.

“But your daughter is not buried and she isn’t gone,” he said. “She’s alive, Pol, I saw her with my own two eyes. She’s alive and we can get her back.”

“Well, that’s not exactly possible now, is it?” she scoffed and turned her gaze back to the fireplace as if some ghostly apparition beckoned her to it. “You said she didn’t know you, I bet that fucking animal has her caged.”

“That’s not true. I saw her, Pol, she looked well.” Tommy felt like stressing that might help. “She has your eyes and your wit and I swear she cooks somethin’ awful, but she’s no prisoner. Alfie is…” He hesitated then, because it wasn’t exactly a comfortable thought to consider. “She’s got him wrapped around her little finger, Pol. You can’t say no to her, eh? Just like I can’t exactly argue with you neither.”

That brought Polly back, even if just to glare at her nephew with fury.

“Pol, I swore to you once I’d bring your children home and I haven’t changed my mind.” Tommy took her hand in his and to his relief this time Polly didn’t pull away. 

“I don’t think Alfie harmed her,” he insisted. “I don’t think she’d let him. Polly, she looked tough. Hardened by life. She’s a woman grown, Pol, and I know she can take care of herself. You said so yourself, eh? It’s grandfather’s gift, reading people. Well, I read her tonight and I know Alfie, too. Something happened to her, that much’s clear, but there’s nothin’ evil happenin’ to her in that house.”

That seemed to satisfy his aunt because she finally took a deep breath that actually made Tommy feel like he could breath himself.

“Why would he tell you to lie to me, Tommy?”

“How do you mean?”

“Why would he think you wouldn’t tell me? That you’d play his game.”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “But I know what he wants in return and to be honest his plan wasn’t as delirious as I’d take him for.”

“I don’t care what you discussed with that man, that’s of little consequence,” Polly scoffed. “We are going to get her and we are going to get rid of him once and for all, Thomas, because no one fucks with the Peaky fuckin’ Blinders and no one fucks with the family! Do you hear me?!”

“I hear you.”

“Good. Now get up!”

“So we’re goin’ today?”

“Today!”

Tommy nodded and gently navigated her back into the armchair. He rang the bell for the maid. In the agitated state Polly’s house was currently in, Tommy was sure the servants weren’t really sleeping.

“And get Michael,” she ordered. “I don’t care what that peroxide tramp says about it, he’s coming with us.”

Alfie stood on the porch and smoked his pipe. He let you squeeze his arm in anger while trying to sneak concerned glances in your general direction. Tired of being treated like a spooked horse, you glared at him until he stopped with all the concern. You were tougher than you looked and you would very much appreciate it if Alfie finally admitted it.

“You alright?” Alfie asked you for what must have been the twentieth time and you nodded stiffly instead of a reply.

“Darlin’, I mean it, all right, ‘cause if you ain’t tryin’ to make me bloody worried then you’re doin’ a splendid job regardless, yeah?”

“Shut up.”

“Right, that’s just fuckin’ uncalled for, that…”

“No. Someone’s coming.”

You pointed then to the faint shapes on the horizon, which, judging by the noise, must have been the Shelby Bentleys.

“Get the binoculars, Alfie.” 

“I’ll get the fuckin’ shotgun is what I’ll get.”

“Alfie.”

“I’ll do as I damn well please in my own house, woman!”

“So your brilliant means of operation is just bullets, is that it? What the hell did you expect, that Tommy would just listen to you?”

There was a clear measure of challenge in your words and all you two did then was just size each other up, trying to see who would call the bluff first. Finally, your husband grumbled his best catalogue of swear words and brought you the binoculars you asked for. 

“It’s the Shelbys,” you confirmed.

“Like clockwork, that lot,” Alfie scoffed. “You tell them one thing, they go the opposite fuckin’ direction.”

“Some clock that’d be,” you chuckled. “We knew they’d come. That’s why we’re here.”

“Don’t get smart with me.”

The pipe now abandoned, Alfie checked the barrel of his favourite handgun and reassured himself with the number. The only problem was the Shelby threat looming on the horizon and what looked like three cars, no doubt packed to the brim with Tommy’s henchmen.

“And you’re certain he will help us?” you asked.

“‘Course. Like I said before, right, Tommy’s nothin’ if not reliable.”

“That’s quite generous coming from you.”

“Just ‘cause he shot me doesn’t mean we ain’t kin now.”

“I am many things, dearest, but a Shelby isn’t one of them.”

“Ah, well, too bad. And too late to call the cavalry off, I reckon. If ya changed your mind…”

“That’s not what I meant.” It was your time to scoff. “These people are not my family. You are.”

On a rare occasion when Alfie Solomons found himself something close to emotional, three black Bentleys finally arrived at the quaint Margate cottage. You instinctively grabbed your husband’s arm again. He didn’t flinch, not even when you dug your nails into the skin, hard enough to draw blood.

“Right, gentlemen! And lady. What a lovely surprise, innit.” Alfie beckoned with his other hand, waving the gun about and leaving very little doubt as to the quickness of change in his intentions were the Shelbys not to play along. “Let me simply say: shalom… All right. Welcome. Yeah, that is the message for today, or so one might hope.”

What would undoubtedly be another inspired monologue had to wait, however. As soon as Tommy escorted Polly out of the car and her eyes met her daughter’s, Polly’s knees gave out. Tommy and Arthur caught her just in time and held her up on both sides.

“Anna!” Polly cried. “Oh dear God, it’s really you! Anna!”

You stood still like a statue, at which point even your husband turned to look at you with a mix of concern and fascination. You let go of his arm and focused on Tommy.

“Mr. Shelby. You brought an army this time. Am I to expect a shootout?”

As cold and unmoved as Tommy tried to be, it proved to be hard with a sobbing woman on his arm.

“Or am I to understand you’re here to kidnap me?” you pressed. “Please don’t say my chicken was that spectacular, I won’t believe it.”

“Anna.” Polly squeezed Tommy’s arm and took a step forward. Alfie uncocked his gun. You sighed and wished he hadn’t, since the entire Shelby ensemble now followed with the same.

“What the fuck is the matter with you, you fools! Put the bloody guns down!” Polly seethed and marched towards the house with a newfound purpose in her step. “Anna. Come down from there. You’re coming home with us.”

You looked at the woman you knew was your mother, though now only by name. Your heart didn’t know her and your head was too preoccupied to care.

“That might pose an issue,” you answered. “Because I am home.”

The next person that got out of the car, however, seemed to finally make you shake off your stony demeanour. You couldn’t quite help it, because his face was the first you could actually say was known to you.

“Michael!” you whispered and then rushed down from the porch before anyone could stop you. “Oh dear God, you’re alive!”

You fell into your brother’s steady embrace and though the force of it nearly made him stumble, he held you firmly and wouldn’t let go—not even if the devil himself tried to claim you both again. 

The tearful reunion was so quiet that no one apart from you and Michael could know what words were exchanged. While the Shelbys weren’t exactly the type to interrupt, you could tell that Alfie was out of patience. 

“Are we just about finished, then?” he inquired. “Forgive the interruption, yeah, but it’s gettin’ li’l too chilly for my taste.”

Polly took that opportunity to point her gun directly at Alfie’s head.

“Now then, madam,” Alfie chuckled and stood his ground, though he didn’t raise the gun he was holding. “I’d only ask ya to aim better than your nephew, all right, ‘cause I can’t exactly take no more of this.” He pointed to the injured side of his face. “Once was enough, yeah, so if you’re certain that’s what ya wanna do, I won’t stop ya.”

“Shut your mouth,” Polly hissed. “You shut your mouth!”

“Polly.” Tommy took a step towards them. His voice was full of warning and he ordered his men to stand down with a single wave of his hand. “Polly, think about what we’re doin’ here, all right? We came to get your daughter,” he turned to point at you, who now looked toward her husband with a horrified expression. “She’s safe now, Polly, we can take her home. There’s no need for violence, Pol, not today.”

“Like hell you will!” you protested. “Can you stop talking about me like I’m not even here?! No one’s taking me anywhere.”

“Now then, Tommy,” Alfie sighed. “There I was, mate, thinkin’ we had an understandin’, you an’ I. After all these years of friendship, right, you come to my house, guns blazin’, and with your lovely aunt no less, all in pursuit of justice I can’t exactly give, mate, ‘cause I ain’t the one who took Anna away in the first place. So…”

To everyone’s surprise Alfie turned his back to Polly and opened the front door as casually as one might when having a gun pointed at you turns into something of a daily occurrence. 

“Might I offer you a drink then, uh, Polly, is it? Right, lemme just say that, yeah, I ain’t exactly one for close family ties, you see, that’s just not somethin’ I was brought up with…”

Alfie’s voice disappeared somewhat as he walked further into the house, completely ignoring the chaos on the porch. You tried to rush back towards the house and stomped on Michael’s foot with all your might when he wouldn’t let you go. Michael roared with pain and you took your chance to run, but this time it was Arthur who stopped you and who, all things considered, presented a much sturdier guard than your brother.

“You let me through,” you hissed. 

“Nah, I don’t think so, luv. You’re comin’ with us.”

“Like hell I am!”

Polly, still stunned, turned towards her children and lowered her gun, creating an opportunity for Tommy to catch up with her and take it out of her hands.

“Not today,” he repeated softly. “There’ll be time for vengeance and there’ll be time for justice. But not here, Pol, not now. Arthur, let Anna pass.”

Polly shook her head and spat on the bluish tiles of the porch, thoroughly worn out and bleached by the seaside air. Only then did she notice the curious mosaic right before the front door and the gentle arch forming the words “lethe”. 

“I’m not leaving without her, Tommy,” she warned.

“I know you’re not.”

Out of options and out of bullets, Polly crossed the threshold and she hoped the choice would truly erase the anguish from her memory—if only for a moment.

Alfie’s gambit must have been exactly that from the start, Tommy mused, because as soon as the rest of the Shelby clan entered the house, they were welcomed by the maid with a tea tray. Alfie, now comfortable in his usual armchair, gestured for his guests to sit. 

Judging by his calm and calculated demeanour, Tommy doubted him and his family had been so unexpected. In fact, he just about acknowledged he had let himself be manipulated not once but twice in what was perhaps the strangest forty-eight hours in a long time.

“Right, now, we don’t know each other well so I don’t know exactly what everyone drinks…” Alfie waved at the maid dismissively and she started to serve the tea as if it was any other ordinary occasion. “Feel free to peruse the bar if you so prefer, Tommy, right, but not you.” Alfie settled his only seeing eye on Arthur, though the elder Shelby brother didn’t seem as prone to anger as Alfie remembered. That was almost disappointing. 

You entered the house last, holding your brother’s hand. Michael smiled down at you fondly as if you hadn’t just caused him severe bodily harm. Tommy and Alfie both noted the scene, though neither exactly for the same reasons. Alfie looked just about done tolerating all that whispering between you and your brother and it seemed so was Tommy.

Though neither, exactly, for the same reasons.

“Right then,” Alfie announced. “Should we discuss the terms?”

#peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons imagine #tom hardy fanfic #tom hardy imagine #tom hardy x reader

[star-girl69]

My Heart Never Knows

Jake Sully x Neytiri x Fem!Reader

—-

a/n: this chapter is crazy i hope y’all enjoy

warnings: mating, swearing, kissing, tell me if i missed anything!!

Chapter Eleven- Everything

—-

Your entire life, this is what it had been leading up to.

This is what you looked forward to during your childhood, during dark and lonely nights as an adolescent, every waking moment as an adult.

Not only did you want it, to be mated, in love, to belong, but it was expected of you. The sister of the clan Tsahìk, prominent and important, you could have anything you want.

You could marry for love, you could marry to help your family. You could do whatever you wanted. That was the one thing the Na’vi did not dispute- mates. It was the will of Eywa, and you had always trusted her, so even when doubt creeped in- you had no choice but to push it away.

If you couldn’t trust the Great Mother, place your heart in her hands, who could you trust?

But, this- this was unconventional.

Bare feet pressed to the dirt, only a tree hanging over you for some semblance of privacy. But wrapped up in them, you felt safe anyways.

You did not think it would happen like this.

When you pull away from Neytiri, your arms having made their way to sling around her neck, her hands holding your face. She stares at you for a moment, like she does everytime she stares at you, but this time is different. This time is a promise.

Her voice breaks the silence, and you had almost forgot you were supposed to be like that- living, breathing.

“You must say yes. To us,” she croaks out, thumb rubbing the high of your cheekbone.

“Was- was that not it?” your chest still heaves with the way you threw yourself into her, placing your heart in her care, jumping into her arms with reckless abandon. Perhaps you would regret it, someday.

But another voice was stronger. What if you don’t?

What if this is what you were meant for, what Eywa had intended for you. Is it not true that you are alive right now? Living, breathing, happy and loved? You trust the Great Mother. Your life was only ever in her hands.

“Say it,” Neytiri whispers, biting her bottom lip, eyes trailing over your face.

“I choose you.” There is nothing to think about, nothing to decide. You have known it since before they came- there has been an ache under your ribs, a need for them before you even knew them. You have always needed them. “I choose you, too, Jake.”

When you look past Neytiri, his eyes are half lidded, staring between the two of you, shoulders loose almost like he is overwhelmed. He hums, deep in the back of his throat, and there’s a hint of something- carnal- in it. Like he is just a man, surrendering. Like he wishes nothing more for something physical to fight, a sturmbeest to take down, something other than tackling the two women in front of him.

And you’ve been denying yourself for so long- is it wrong to move fast? To want to be there’s right here, right now, before someone can break through the treeline, disrupt everything.

Ronal’s face burns in the back of your mind, as you remove your hands from around Neytiri’s neck, and she can’t take her hands from your face. Her words swing around, almost in the air, demons.

Instead, you are falling to your knees in front of them, looking up as if to say, well?

And they waste no time in coming down to the ground as well, your knees sinking into the soft dirt, your tsaheylu burning from where it presses against your back.

It burns when you take it in your hands, but it’s that good burn, that overwhelming burn, that everything, that not enough burn.

When Neytiri and Jake do the same, it doesn’t fill you with dread like it did when Ayeoe presented his to you.

No- instead, you are lit from within, a fire spreading through you- coming from under your ribs.

The small pink tendrils at the end unfurl, and you stare at them for a moment, entranced, grounding yourself, thanking Eywa.

Jake is next to you, close, not close enough, everything all at once. “You’ll be a mother to our children. You’ll be something to them. Everything to us.”

You can only smile, blink away the tears in your eyes. All you have ever wanted is to be the sun, to belong to no one and everyone, go home each night to the moons, to them.

Slowly, your fingers begin to itch, and you are desperate for a taste of him, so it falls to the dirt as you bury your hands into his hair, kiss him, bury yourself in him.

His arms wrap around your waist- warm, comforting- and he tastes like the forest, like the sea, like the plains. He tastes like Pandora. No matter what Ronal says- you know that is what he is. He is a child of Eywa, a person of this planet- the farthest thing from a demon. An angel, really, because you swear you find ecstasy in his mouth.

When you pull away, had your fill, your eyes are wet with tears, and he simply places his lips to your cheek, soft and sweet, blotting away the salt, the remnants of whatever sadness you carry in you- because you know you will never feel that way. Not again, not with them.

You pull away, grab your tsaheylu with shaking hands, when Neytiri reaches out, places her hand on yours, soft- barely there. You are moving so fast, a staccato, in and out of focus.

“We want you to be our mate. But we want you to want it too.”

“I’m- I’m not- no, I want this. I want this. I just don’t wanna wait. Don’t make me wait. I say yes, say yes to me, now, say yes to me.”

Neytiri’s face slowly settles into a wide smile, eyes crinkling, lines in her cheeks- it sits so well on your face you are surprised you can even conjure a memory of her frowning.

“I choose you,” she whispers, taking her tsaheylu from out behind her, knees in the dirt, the three of you a tilted triangle. Sunk in and stuck, but the only place you have to be. The only place you need to be, want to be.

“And I choose you.” Words are short and sweet, an invisible something in the air, pulsing tangible. A need, a want. You all know what it is, what’s to happen here. But you all want it, all understand it.

You take your tsaheylu, not bothering to look at the link tendrils this time, deprived for so long, wanted them for so long, spare hand digging into the dirt.

Afraid, you realize. You don’t know if you can live without them now, not that you’ve gotten a taste, know how addictive they are.

When the bond hits you-

It is like a wave crashing over you. Like you are swimming in the sea again, young and arrogant, ignoring the wave’s resistance. This time, you understand the art of drowning.

The art of letting go, surrendering to the current. You throw your head back, something soft tearing from your throat- satisfaction- names being carved into your bones, seared into your skin. Faces behind your eyes, voices in your ears.

And it is like something is being torn out from under your fucking ribs, and it aches and it hurts and it’s building, building, until it explodes with something white hot and you are left with them.

You are left with everything, all around you.

Everything to us, Jake had said.

They are everything to you. They are the thoughts in your brain, the blood in your heart, the ache in your ribs that fades now- no use for it anymore, now that they are there to take it’s place. Carving their place inside you, making a home, and you are so full of them that you can hardly call yourself your own anymore.

And you can’t.

Because under your ribs there is everything, and they are yours and you are theirs.

Everything.

—-

taglist:

@sully-stick-together @corrupt-cadaver420 @jadynchronicle @imthefunniestpersonalive @fangil101 @mashiromochi @rey26 @soothinghummerz @myheartfollower @pwallettes @melodykisses @ghoulfiendz @fanboyluvr @itsyaspwr @khaleesihavilliard @capbrie @nothingfuninthislife @faceaeter @thetrashindrakensroom @makeup-stuff-and-such @my-dearest-agent @miyamuraaaa @xoxovienna @arschbohrer @amazingaries @ssc7514 @milf-lover-23 @w3ird11 @littlexscarletxwitch @tiajk @kuldren @blackgirlwriting @tojigirl @trulyrogers @aeslenya @3okutos-3ig-toe @peterparkeeperer @ambria @homeispandora @hxgemxscles

#jake sully x neytiri #jake sully x reader #neytiri x reader

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Prisoner Part 1

Part 1 – Sihtric x reader

Authors note: the idea for this fic came when I edited this screenshot from Season 5. It was not really an idea, just a feeling in the air that there was a story to be told and I just started writing not knowing where it will lead me.

Summary: Sihtric and Finan are sent to spy on Bebbanburg, but Sihtric gets distracted by an attractive widow and lands up caught and secured by the guards with no chances of escape.

Warnings: smut, 18+

Word Count: 3,887

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Getting caught and locked up in Bebbanburg’s fortress was definitely not part of the plan. Perhaps it wouldn’t have happened if Sihtric had stuck to the plan, but the temptation to catch a glimpse of the garrison and palisades from within the fortress was too strong to resist. The group of merchants traveling to Bebbanburg in wagons loaded with furs, spices, and fabrics seemed like the perfect disguise. Sihtric immediately noticed that one of the young women traveling with them couldn't take her eyes off him from the moment she saw him at the tavern in the village. Upon inquiring, Sihtric discovered that the young lady was a widow who continued her late husband's trade by selling silk and spices. It was a perfect opportunity. They were supposed to leave for Bebbanburg the following morning, and the fortress was a two-day ride away, so Sihtric had to act quickly.

"You'll see, I'll be back in a week," he confidently assured Finan.

"That's the most foolish idea I've ever heard," Finan responded, far from impressed by the new plan. "And what do you expect me to do if you don't return? What if you're caught?" he asked, growing frustrated.

"I won't be caught," Sihtric asserted, his confidence in his abilities as a spy, which he had already proven several times, unwavering.

Now he just had to convince the pretty little thing, who was casting lustful glances at him, to allow him to accompany the group of merchants to the fortress. Sihtric didn't anticipate it being a complicated task, as he positioned himself near the tavern's entrance, patiently waiting for the lady. He saw no reason why he couldn't combine pleasure with necessity. If getting inside Bebbanburg required to give a good hump to a pretty widow, he saw no reason not to seize the opportunity.

--------------------------------------------------------

Sihtric kicked the door shut behind you, his hands firmly holding you against his chest as he eagerly traced the contours of your body. His lips remained locked with yours, never breaking the passionate connection. Sihtric pressed you against the door, his hands slid down your thighs and started pushing your dress up, his hot lips moving down to your neck placing hungry kisses on their way.

“You are so beautiful, my lady!” he whispered in your ear, his voice husky yet soft, causing a shiver of anticipation to run down your spine. “Tell me, what do you want me to do?” Sihtric asked, catching you off guard with his question. It was the first time anyone had ever asked you that. In your experience, men could be divided into two types. There were those who didn’t care whether you enjoyed being with them or not, viewing women as mere objects meant to fulfil their desires before leaving them behind. You had learned to recognize and avoid them based on their behavior. Then there were the men who took pride in pleasing a woman, who liked knowing that you had enjoyed them. However, most of them were so confident in their ability to please you that they never even thought to ask what you desired. Some of them had been skilled lovers, but you quickly got bored of them, as they grew repetitive and too often sought your praise for their performance. So, you were pleasantly surprised by Sihtric's question, but truthfully, you weren't prepared for it. You hesitated for a moment, and suddenly, Sihtric took a half-step back from you, his hands let go of your hips letting your dress drop and went to your shoulders. His fingers softly trailed down your arms until he took hold of your palms and lifted them to his lips placing gentle kisses on your wrists.

“Was I too rush for you? Lady, if you are not sure you want this, please just say a word and I will stop,” his eyes searched yours, filled with questioning. This was entirely new experience for you. Such attentiveness was incredibly uncommon in your world, and you found it so sweet and arousing that it made you shiver in excitement, feeling a hot sensation building up in your lower stomach. You took a step closer to Sihtric, placed your hands on his neck and raised on your tiptoes to reach his lips, kissing him slowly but passionately. You bit his lower lip causing, Sihtric to moan quietly, and you instantly took advantage of his lips parting a bit to enter his mouth with your tongue and deepening the kiss, licking, and sucking at his tongue.

“If I were unsure of what I want, I would have never followed you here,” you smirked, pulling back to catch your breath. Sihtrics eyes darkened with lust and his hands were instantly back on your body, pressing you tightly to his chest, his fingers tracing your back down to your arse, squeezing it tightly only to slide up again caressing your contour. He moved his left hand to your breast, pinching it eagerly, while the other hand took hold of your neck and pulled your head closer to him. His lips were on your cleavage now, placing wet and sloppy kisses there, while his hands started to tug at the lances of your dress.

“Then tell me, what is it that you want, beauty” Sihtric whispered, “What can I do to please you?”

Your head was already spinning, and your pussy was throbbing in desperate need for him. His touch on your body was simultaneously harsh and gentle. His hands were big and rough. They were warrior’s hands used to swinging an axe or holding a sword, but his touch was incredibly gentle as he caressed and fondled your body with his fingertips.

“I want your tongue between my legs. I want you to lick me until I scream your name in pleasure and cum on your tongue,” you murmured in his ear, touching it with your lips, licking it teasingly and biting gently on his ear lip, “And then I want you to fill me with your cock and hump me hard and fast,” you continued and smile started spreading on your face as you heard loud moan escaping Sihtric’s lips desire consuming him at your words.

“Mmm, that is a delicious wish, my lady”, Sihtric chuckled licking his lips. He hastily pulled your dress over your head and dropped it on the floor. While you unfastened your underwear with your hands trembling in desire and anticipation, Sihtric pushed you against the door and sank down on his knees, his hands pulling your underwear to your ankles, so that you could easily step out of it. You felt his hot breath on your skin as he started to place wet, open-mouth kisses on your belly slowly sliding down toward your throbbing pussy.  You tilted your head back, leaning heavily at the door, closed your eyes and spread your legs with a loud moan shivering in lust, desperately wanting to feel his tongue on your clit.  You could feel his lips getting closer, placing a lingering kiss on your cunt and then with a soft moan his tongue finally slipped over your clit, spreading your folds and licking your pussy until it reached your entrance and then slid back to your clit. The sensation of absolute bliss washed over you, moaning in indescribable pleasure you slid you fingers into his hair and pulled hard on them, while your hips started to move against Sihtric’s tongue. Sihtric growled against your pussy. He certainly knew what he was doing as his wet tongue started to circle your clit with fast movements and his lips nipped and sucked at it.

“Oh yes, Sihtric! Yes, you are so damn good!” you whimpered as he continued licking and sucking your clit, while his fingers were pushing teasingly at your entrance. Your hips were already moving frantically against his tongue as he pushed his fingers deep into your soaked pussy, causing you to release a muffled scream, as he started to fuck you slowly with his fingers. Soft moans were escaping his lips telling you that he enjoyed every single bit of you in this moment and you felt you climax building up quickly.

“I am so close. Ahhh, Sihtric…,” you screamed his name as tears filled your eyes and you reached your high so intensive and strong as you had never felt before.  Your thighs were trembling, your head was spinning and your whole body shaking while the waves of pleasure washed over you. Sihtric pulled out his fingers and his strong hands steadied you as you were about to lose your balance, while his tongue made the last slow laps around your clit. You looked down at him with half closed eyes, just to notice the lustful and satisfied smirk on his face as he watched you locking his gaze with yours. Sihtric raised to his feet and without waiting for your high to fade away completely, he grabbed you by your thighs and lifted you up wrapping your legs around his waist. You placed your hands on his shoulders and buried your fingers in his long and curly hair, your body still trembling. Sihtric carried you to the table in the middle of the room and seated you on it positioning himself between your legs. His lips crushed with yours in a passionate, hungry, and deep kiss, while his hands were hastily undoing his breaches. You drove his hands away and took over eagerly. As soon as they were loose enough you slid your hand in his breeches and pulled out his hard and leaking cock, stroking the full length of it and placing it directly at your entrance.

“Are you ready for your second wish?” Sihtric enquired, “Hard and fast?”

“As hard as you can,” you responded and gasped your breath taken away as Sihtric pushed in hard. He gazed at you with a questioning expression, but you just moaned in pleasure digging your nails into his back and enjoying how good his cock filled and stretched your completely soaked pussy. Feeling you adjusted to him, Sihtric slowly pulled almost completely out just to slam back into you harshly. You moaned again, making him fasten his pace, as he started to slam into you harder and deeper.

“Is it hard enough, my greedy lady?” he asked between his own moans of pleasure.

“More, give me more of you and faster,” you begged, leaning back until you were lying on the table surrendering to his lust and giving him the whole control. With a loud groan Sihtric placed your leg over his shoulder, took hold of your hips with his both hands and continued pounding into you, his breathing getting heavy as his own climax was building up. Despite the maddening pace he was not losing his eye contact with you.

“Are you still OK, sweety?” he asked with panting breath, “I don’t want to hurt you. You must tell me if it is too much for you,” he surprised you again with his attentiveness. His cock filled you up perfectly, brushing against your walls and you felt your high approaching fast.

“You are just perfect. Don’t stop… Oh, please just don’t stop. I am so close,” you whimpered looking in his big, mismatched eyes.

“I am close too. Goods… how good you feel! How well you take me… the whole of me…” Sihtric hissed, wetting his thumb with his tongue, and touching your clit. It was the final touch you needed, and you came again moaning loudly, your walls clenching around his cock, your body shaking and back arching against the wooden table. Sihtric followed you a moment later with a loud and hoarse groan. His thrusts became slower and gentler as he allowed you both to savour your highs and calm down. His breath came out in heavy pants as he leaned on the table for support, his eyes scanning every inch of your body. A satisfied smile formed on his face.

"You're incredible," he said, his strong arms pulling you up closer to him, wrapping around your shoulders, and pressing you tightly against his chest.

"You're amazing. I don't want you to leave. Can I accompany you to Bebbanburg?" Sihtric whispered, planting gentle kisses along your neck, collarbone, and back up again. "You're so beautiful and so good to me," he praised, his words intermingled with his affectionate kisses.

The question caught you off guard. A realization dawned upon you—apparently, the young warrior's interest in you extended beyond a good hump. He wanted to get into Bebbanburg and had chosen you as his entrance ticket. At first, you felt a sense of betrayal. But then, you couldn't deny that you hadn't been entirely honest with him either. It seemed both of you had missions to fulfil and were willing to do whatever it took to complete them. Moreover, you had thoroughly enjoyed him tonight as he had turned out to be a delightful distraction on your journey to Bebbanburg to spy for Constantin. There seemed to be no reason to deny yourself the company of this handsome and sweet young Dane. He wanted to get inside Bebbanburg? All right, if allowing him to this opportunity meant continuing to enjoy his good company in your bed for a bit longer, why not? Besides, you were curious about his mission in Bebbanburg as well.

You gazed up at him, a playful expression on your face, and planted a teasing kiss on his lips. "You think you were that good?" you playfully taunted him.

"Didn't you enjoy me? Wasn't I satisfying enough?" Sihtric responded, surprise and dismay evident in his voice. He had been so confident in his lovemaking that hearing the confusion in his voice made you smirk. Hell, he had been good, but you just didn't want to give in too easily.

"I don't know. I haven't made up my mind yet," you continued teasing, your fingertips lightly tracing his broad chest.

"But your sweet little mouth was saying something else just a minute ago," Sihtric countered, his thumb brushing against your lips before leaning in to kiss you. The kiss was gentle, in stark contrast to the intense, passionate, and rough kisses that had consumed your lips moments before. The tenderness of it made you moan with delight and surprise.

"I think I need a little more of you to be certain," you whispered in his ear, gently nibbling his earlobe. "At least a few more nights," you chuckled, and in that moment, he had his answer. You were taking him where he wanted to go.

 The following day, Sihtric joined the merchants, weaving a fabricated tale about his desire to see the grand fortress by the sea. However, nobody was fooled. The flushed glances you exchanged, the tell-tale bruises on your neck, and Sihtric's lustful smiles were enough for everyone to understand the true reason behind his decision to accompany the group. Yet, you didn't mind. Cleverly disguising yourself as a wealthy widow had granted you much greater freedom of action, and now it was paying off.

The caravan moved at a slower pace than a lone rider normally would, granting you three whole nights to revel in the company of your newfound lover. Sihtric made sure not to disappoint you. You knew that when this will be over you were going to miss his strong arms wrapped around your waist, his kisses alternating between sweet and gentle, and rough and passionate, leaving you yearning for more, his confident touch on your skin and between your legs. He knew how to please a woman and were eager to showcase his expertise, and you were more than eager to reciprocate. And beyond his physical attractiveness, he proved to be intelligent, humorous, and an attentive listener. After making love, he would hold you close, sharing tales of his adventures—battles fought, and cities visited. In turn, he would inquire about your own experiences, attentively listening as you spoke of your journeys to Frankia and Ireland. Sihtric had mentioned the death of his lord and his intent to travel to Eoferwick, seeking Danish lords who might accept his oath and offer him a place in their service. While you did not believe this story, you kept your suspicions hidden. Sihtric was sweet, kind, attentive and captivating, and it turned out that you cherished his company as much as his body.

On the day you approached Bebbaburg, you started complaining about a heavy headache. The pleasurable part of the journey had come to an end, and you needed a valid excuse to retreat to rest as early as possible and preferably without Sihtric. With only two days to spend in the fortress, time was of the essence. Knowing that Sihtric was likely heading there for a similar purpose as you, you assumed he would be relieved by your sudden illness, as it would free him from your company in the evening, allowing him to focus on his mission. However, you were taken aback by his genuine concern for your well-being.

“Can I do anything for you?" Sihtric asked for the sixth time already, worry etched in his voice. "You look so pale. Would you like to rest inside the wagon and try to sleep during the final miles before we reach the fortress?" His words were accompanied by a touch of genuine concern. You sat at the front of the wagon, leaning against the arch with a pained expression on your face. Sihtric had promptly taken the reins from you the moment you mentioned feeling unwell. He had seated himself beside you, casting worried glances in your direction, occasionally taking your hand or gently caressing your cheek.

"It's alright, Sihtric. I'm not dying. It's just a headache, perhaps I caught a slight cold in this wind," you reassured him with a faint smile.

As the caravan arrived at Bebbanburg early in the evening, you were assigned rooms in the far west wing of the fortress. Lord Wihtgar was absent, but his wife eagerly welcomed the merchants. It seemed that Bebbanburg had not seen many visitors in quite some time. You received an invitation to join an evening meal served for all the travellers, but you excused yourself, citing the persistent headache, and retreated to your room. Sihtric followed you.

"Are you certain you don't want me to stay?" Sihtric asked, brushing his rough fingers against your cheeks and tucking the strands of hair falling into your eyes behind your ear. His behaviour caught you completely off guard. You had expected him to lose interest as soon as he achieved his goal of entering the fortress. Yet, there he stood, gazing at you with his captivating eyes, displaying genuine compassion and concern. He offered to stay by your side or to bring you some food if you weren't up for attending the feast. What was happening? You questioned yourself, perplexed by his unexpected actions.

"That's incredibly thoughtful of you," you smiled warmly, "But please, don't worry. You don't need to stay with me. I simply want to get some rest. Tomorrow, the lady of the fortress will likely negotiate every piece of silk I've brought. I need to be in good shape for that," you reassured him, gently guiding him towards the door. Sihtric wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer and leaning in to kiss you.

"I will miss you, my beauty," he whispered, his hand hesitantly gliding down your arm from the elbow to your palm, where he pressed it lightly. Reluctantly, he turned away and made his way toward the great hall.

Sihtric strolled slowly along the lengthy corridor that led to the heart of the fortress. He was profoundly confused by the strange mix of emotions he experienced. When he initially decided to join the caravan, with the help of the young and attractive widow among the merchants, he had regarded it as nothing more than a pleasant side effect of his mission. However, the few days he had spent with you had stirred something unfamiliar within him.

You were not merely a beautiful and passionate lover; you possessed intelligence, authority, and a strength he had seldom encountered in women before. You had taken over your husband’s trade and had proven your competence and skill in what you were doing. Having travelled through various kingdoms, you possessed a wealth of captivating stories about distant places and people. You held your own opinions and fearlessly defended and debated them.

Tired and breathless after your passionate lovemaking, exhaustion and contentment settling upon both of you, Sihtric cherished the hours that followed. Lying together, wrapped in each other's arms, he held you close, breathing in your scent with his nose nestled against your neck, and enjoyed just talking to you. As the grand silhouette of Bebbanburg emerged on the horizon, Sihtric realized, to his surprise, that he did not want this journey to end so soon. He had hoped for at least one more night with you within the fortress's walls.

His mind was spinning with thoughts how to prolong the journey, to find a means to stay by your side or convince you to abandon the caravan and return with him to the village where Finan was waiting. Yet, he knew the thought was ludicrous. Why on earth would a wealthy, intelligent, and beautiful widow with her own successful trade choose to follow him to Cocchem? And even if she did, what would happen next? He had no answers to those questions. Sihtric had wanted to express his feelings, to share his emotions with you, but the words failed him. With a hesitant sigh, he had turned away reluctantly, making his way down the corridor. He had a mission to fulfil, and now that you were unwell and had declined his company, he believed it was the best moment to explore the fortress.

Descending into the inner yard, Sihtric leisurely strolled around the palisades and ramparts, meticulously memorizing their placement and assessing the potential number of men they could accommodate. As he neared the completion of his observations, a sudden noise jolted him. The hurried footsteps behind him hinted that someone was approaching, and Sihtric swiftly turned to face the person who was supposed to emerge from the shadows. Yet, before he could react, a blade was pressed against his throat from behind, and four guards emerged from a nearby pathway, accompanied by one of the traders scurrying behind them.

 "It's him! He's Uhtred's man, I'm certain of it! I've seen them together in Lundene and Winchester. There's another one, an Irishman with a beard, but he stayed back at the village. It's just this damn Dane who joined us," the trader, who turned out to be one of the spies reporting to Wihtgar, hissed, pointing his finger at Sihtric.

"Take this piece of shit to the dungeon. Secure him properly," commanded one of the guards, seemingly in charge. "You are responsible for him with your life. Lord Wihtgar will return at latest in two days and will want answers from him."

Sihtric's face contorted with a scowl as the guards bound his hands, but he offered no resistance. It was pointless, with a blade pressed against his throat and four armed guards surrounding him. The plan had clearly gone wrong, terribly wrong, he thought to himself.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

#sihtric #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #tlk #sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #tlk fic #sihtric fic

[marilynthornhilllover]

Gwen x fem reader

Name : " manners" part 2

Warning: smut, mommy kink, fingering, kissing,eating out, indecent language!! Some words are in French!!

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

You were running very late for your french afternoon classes and you hadn't even finished dressing yet. You quickly pulled on some tight cut blue jeans with a white spaghetti strap top with some pink crocs.

You put your hair up in a decent messy bun and grabbed some gold hoop earrings and sliver chains. You popped some earpods in with your favorite music and grabbed your phone and the assignment you had to bring to class today.

You were the most gayest and baddest bitch in school. You were a total bad ass, and all the boys were crazy about you. One time this boy even thought you were Maddie from euphoria, obviously you laughed in his face. Something that made you more badass was your long French tip red nails.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

You were half an hour late to class but you didn't care. Never really did. You never really saw the importance in getting to school early anyway. Blasting your music loud you walked into the class with your head held down looking at your phone, texting away.

Suddenly you heard a woman call out your name. You were almost at your seat when you turned around to see who it was. Taking out your earpods you looked the women up and down.

It seemed to be some new hot French teacher. You thought to yourself. The other one was just old and miserable,and lazy. she didn't even know French. Maybe that's why they got rid of her. You never learned anything from her, but with this new one maybe you will.

This one was tall. Very tall. At least 2-3 inches taller than you. And with thoses heels she was probably more. Her hair was jet black and shoulder length, bangs covering her forehead. Her makeup with well done, and her neck had a black collar around it. She was wearing this ridiculous but sexy black dress. But it tucked her every curve so well.

Short description of her would be an absolute goddess. Your eyes met her gaze after you were finished looking at her stunning figure. " exit the class please " she spoke holding a set of paper on her hands as she was talking to another student before you.

"Why ?" you asked with an attitude. The older woman was greatly surprised with your behaver but you didn't care. "Just do as I say darling" she spoke again, this time more demanding. You didn't quite have an explanation for it but suddenly you felt this hot feeling in your core. Looking at everyone's sheepish face towards you , you rolled your eyes and went to stand on the outside.

She didn't take her eyes off of you the entire time you were out there. Yes she left you outside the entire class. All because you didn't have any "manners " towards her or your fellow class mates.

After class ended and everyone left you finally decided to have some manners. You softly knocked the door to get her attention. She looked up at you from under her glasses and you could swear her eyes were filled with lust. You gulped hard. Her staring was very intense. God she made your legs wobble. " yes?" She finally spoke up, breaking the silence.

"I still have my assignment to submit " you said waving your assignment at her. "I'd like yours to be a oral" she said looking down at her computer and began typing. Your jaw dropped. She couldn't be serious. You barley knew French because of your last teacher and now she wants you to read a story to her in French.

" excuse me?" You said looking at her with utter disbelief. She once again looked up at you with her eyes. This time they weren't filled with lust they were filled with desire and need. Like she was craving you. She made you feel things. " well it's either that or I teach you some manners " she spoke getting up from her chair to walk over to you.

You were confused as to what she meant by " teach you manners" but deep down you knew fully well what she meant. "Perhaps you didn't interpret me correctly, it's either you do your story as a oral or I fuck manners into you salope" she said taking slow steps towards you. You swear the air in the room got thicker. You felt a pool down between your legs.

You started rubbing your thighs together to get some sort of friction. This she noticed. Some how she was now standing inches away from your lips. Her perfume was invading your head. You were getting dizzy. She was making your mind go blank. Soon you would be her dumb "slut".

She pressed her body onto yours as she closed the door behind of you locking in as she do so. She leaned down a bit to whisper in your ear. Her hot breath tingling with you. "what will it be y/n? Hm? Tell me baby what do you want from mommy?"

She sent shivers down your spine and she felt it. If it wasnt for her strong hands holding your hips, your feet would have given out already. A low moan escaped your lips making her grip on you tighten. " i-i want mommy to fuck me" you choked out.

Gwen grined at your response and without hesitation her lips smashed against yours. It was a passionate. tongue fought your lips for entry and you gaved it to her. Her tongue fought with yours.

You couldn't help moaning into her mouth. It obly spurred her on to do more sinful things to you. Soon you both had to pull away for air. She picked you up and placed you on the her desk.

You looked at her with needy eyes and soon her lips were back on yours. You whined as you threw your head back and bucked your hips towards her for more. " please-" you whispered. "Louder , i wanna hear you beg" she said as she unbottend your jeans. " please mommy I'm begging you" you whined, lifting your hips for her to pull the jeans down.

" good girl. mon amour" her French accent does things to you. She got down on her knees keeping eye contact with you and she pulled your panties to the side. Her cold fingers weren't making it easy on you. She held your thighs open wide as she slowly kissed between them.

You shivered at the sensation causing your eyes to roll back and a small whimper to escape your mouth. Your eyes met her gaze as she pulled off your underwear completely, tossing them aside. You were so soaked. Her eyes met your needy and desperate ones as she smiled. "All this for me mon amour?" She asked but you could have only replied with a desperate nod and a blood drawing lip bite.

"Oh baby I turn you on that much?" She asked sending her fingers through your folds collecting your juices. A loud moan escaped you lips when she circled your clit. "Eyes on mine baby" she whispered as she dived into your cunt.

Her tongue flicked over your clit gently nipping at it causing your back to arch. Your hands quickly went to her hair, pulling her head closer to your needy cunt. She loved your reaction towards her actions, and wasn't planning on stopping.

"Oh god fuck-" you moaned. Her eyes never left yours. You swear she was staring into your soul. Her lashes and eyeliner made her more sexy to watch, oh and thoses blue eyes were to live for. Her tongue flick and rolled over your clit.

You'd sound ridiculous if You said she was spelling her name with her tongue but it was the truth. As she drew little circles around your swollen bud felt your orgasm getting near.

" oh baby your doing so good for mommy. Just like that" she moaned against your cunt. The vibrations making you whimper. " such a Bonne fille" she said plunging 2 fingers into you with ease. You cried out. It felt so good. Her tongue plus her curled fingers, and her praising you in French. It was all too much.

She worked her fingers fast and hard in you, making a gushing sound each thrust. Her tongue tormented your clit. You were a mess. Her mess. And you both were loving it. She felt you clinched around her fingers so she knew you were close.

You tightened your grip on her hair. At this point you were face fucking her using your hips. Soon you came over egde. Cumming all over her pretty face. She drank you up and cleaned you but she didn't stop. She kept fucking you with her fingers.

They were deep in you. Curled. Moving fast. Moving rough. You couldn't take it anymore. You reached down to push her hand away but she held it back" just one more darling be a good girl and cum for mommy again " she said and with that you cumed again.

"Bonne fille" she cooed cleaning you up. After you fixed your clothes and walked towards the door. "OH and y/n" she called out. You turned around to look at her. "BE late tomorrow and I'll personally rearrange your guts with my strap after class at my place" she said turning to pack up her things.

You smiled at your self. It's a deal then, you thought to yourself. As you stepped out of the door you walked down the hall then do the dorms and went to yours.

#gwendoline christie #fypシ゚viral #fanfic #larissa weems x female reader #love #wednesday #gwendolineuniverse #smut #larissa weems #gweninfabric #jan stevens x reader should be a tag #x fem!reader #gwen x fem reader

[delta-pavonis]

Drabble: Red Dress

Dreamling (vampire!Hob/AFAB trans!Dream AU) || Rated E || just under 1k words || complete

Alternate Universe - Magic, vampire!Hob, trans!Dream, AFAB Dream, established relationship, oral sex, cunnilingus, menstrual sex, graphic descriptions of blood, discussion of breeding, discussion of fertility, discussion of a trans man getting pregnant, kissing with menstrual blood on face and lips Read on AO3 or under the cut

NOTES: First, I was trying to figure out a title for this drabble and stumbled across the poem at the start. While I know that the title of the poem is "What Do Women Want?" and that clashes with AFAB trans Dream, I just loved the sentiment in the latter half of the poem so much that I needed to include it. Second, no, stopping one's menstruation via pharmaceutical means does NOT make the flow heavier. I made that up here for plot purposes.

I want that red dress bad. I want it to confirm your worst fears about me, to show you how little I care about you or anything except what I want. When I find it, I’ll pull that garment from its hanger like I’m choosing a body to carry me into this world, through the birth-cries and the love-cries too, and I’ll wear it like bones, like skin, it’ll be the goddamned dress they bury me in. from “What Do Women Want?” by Kim Addonizio

When Hob brings his head up from between Dream’s legs the image is a new definition of obscene. 

His face is smeared with fluids from his cheekbones down, everything from pearly delicate pinks to the deep sensual red of a rich cabernet sauvignon. It crosses the arch of his nose, just below where cartilage meets bone, and reaches almost back to his ears. Bits of his short beard clump together into red-black wet points and crimson drips from from the teeth of his open mouth to color his panting tongue scarlet and rose-pink. 

Hob’s eyes are so much darker than usual, burgundy irises glinting with the shine of a ruby. He smiles and licks his teeth, emphasizing the pointed canines, then also cleans his lips. “Exquisite,” he purrs.

Dream falls back into the pillows with a whimper, “Holy fuck.” He flings an arm over his face, even the meager light from the candles on the table beside the bed too much additional stimulus. “Hob, please.”

A couple gentle licks between Dream’s folds make him tremble before he gets a response. “Yes, dearest?” How such a creature can sound so innocent Dream will never understand.

He realizes that he doesn’t know what he is begging for, he just lets his legs fall a little more open with a plaintive whine.

Hob’s kisses leave a wet trail on the inside of his thighs. “Oh, I know, sweet thing. I know,” he practically coos. “Do you even know what it is like to come without my bite anymore?” He nips at Dream’s skin but not enough to come close to breaking it; Dream sobs in frustration. “It seems that I can get enough blood this way to manage an erection. You have used your magic to hold static your moonphase for so long that you are bleeding profusely. You have prepared your body for me perfectly, my sweet sorcerer. I will have no problem drilling your cunt into screaming submission.”

Dream moans at the thought. “Then why now? Why wait until now to ask me to stop taking my potions?” he gasps. It has been almost a year since Dream found the emaciated vampire chained up amongst the other ‘oddities’ in Burgess’ collection, freed him along with the others who he was actually there for. Matthew had declared him insane for even going near the vampire, Lucienne had decried his willingness to risk the safety of the Dreaming for a vampire could learn much by taking one’s lifeblood. 

But Dream had been captivated even then. The vampire’s dull, almost lifeless gaze, had called to him. Desire had written him off as enthralled. Perhaps he was.

Hob doesn’t answer immediately, sucks and licks until he has taken at least another three mouthfuls and Dream’s eyes have started to fill with tears in his frustration with the lack of consistent attention to his clit. “I was waiting for a special occasion.” He hums, kissing below Dream’s navel. “It has been a long recovery from my imprisonment. I had been damaged more than I was willing to tell even you, dear one.” 

That gets the sorcerer’s attention and he is up on his elbows so that he can look at Hob properly. “Hob?”

Hob doesn’t meet his eyes at first, too busy nuzzling into the lowest part of Dream’s abdomen, kissing it reverently, smearing bloody fluids there and then licking them up. When he looks up to Dream his eyes are dark pits of vicious hunger, fully black from one end to the other. “I am healed completely. Now. I can fill you,” he bites, harder but still not hard enough to break skin, “with my seed.”

“What?” Dream gasps, breathless. He cannot possibly mean…

“I would breed you,” Dream interrupts Hob with a high-pitched cry, “my sweet sorcerer. If you will it. You could carry our children. Not turned against their will, but born to the night.” He nuzzles Dream’s belly again. “And most likely daywalkers as well, given your magic. How powerful it is. How it reaches out for me.” 

Dream never thought… never in his wildest fantasies that it could… that he… “Fuck.”

Hob crawls up his lover’s body and looks down at him, expression fond. “Only if you wish it. But you would be resplendent,” he presses their stomachs together, “rounded with child.” He slides down and nuzzles the pectoral muscles modified with magic long ago. “And never would you need feel lacking for not coming into milk, for our children would take to blood without hesitation. Either yours… or mine.”

Oh God. An image of Hob, infant in his arms – their child in his arms – taking nourishment from his body, sustained by his body as much as Dream’s. It is surreal. It is fantastical. It is everything.

Dream pulls Hob up by his hair and kisses him, uncaring that he is tasting his own menstrual blood. A squeak of surprise catches in Hob’s throat, but it is only a moment before he groans and curls around Dream’s tongue with his own. 

“I don’t know,” Dream pants into Hob’s mouth, both their lips darkened with blood now, “if I am even still fertile.”

Hob smiles, which is most certainly not the reaction Dream expected. “Well, it will certainly be fun to find out.”

#blame the Mr Sadman server #they made me do it #Dreamling #trans Dream #vampire Hob #Pavonis writes

[pleasantlyinsincere]

May Pang, Sunday Mirror December 14, 1980

MY LOVE AFFAIR WITH LENNON - I didn't steal her man - by Tony Frost

John Lennon's secret love has talked for the first time about her "beautiful and tender" affair with the tragic superstar.

Chinese beauty May Pang has fought back the tears and said: "I still can't believe he is dead. Now he is gone, I feel a part of me has died too." Lennon turned to May after breaking up with his Japanese wife Yoko Ono in 1973. They spent eighteen 'Idyllic' months together - living in Los Angeles for six months, then setting up a love-nest on New York's fashionable East Side, before Lennon eventually went back to Yoko.

Only a few close friends knew of Lennon's romance with May, who was once secretary to him and Yoko. The affair was deliberately concealed from fans.

May, 30 but looking ten years younger, overcame her grief at last week's assassination of the ex-Beatle to give me an exclusive interview at her Manhattan apartment. "They were such magical times", she said. "Thank God, no one can take away my precious memories. I count myself as a very lucky woman to have shared some of John's most tender moments, his private thoughts and, most of all, his love. John brought me more happiness than I could hope to find in a lifetime with another man."

May originally worked for apple, the Beatles recording company. She became very close to Yoko and helped her in women's lib campaigns. "I don't want to say anything that might be hurtful to Yoko", she said. "She was always very kind to me. I didn't steal her man - they had broken up before John and I became lovers. I know she is deeply upset, and my heart goes out to her. But I have shed as many tears as Yoko."

Last Monday night, when Mark Chapman pumped five bullets into Lennon outside his New York home, May was at a friend's flat half a mile away. "We had the radio on," said May. "The disc jockey suddenly interrupted saying 'John Lennon has been shot'. At first I thought it was some kind of a sick joke. The initial news flash said that John was wounded. A few minutes later it was announced that he was at the hospital being operated on. I began shuddering and held my breath. I prayed that it wasn't true, but the third bulletin revealed the awful truth - John was dead. I screamed hysterically for several minutes. I stayed in bed for two days, sobbing and just thinking of John. I couldn't eat or sleep - my body was so numb from shock."

TOO UPSET

"The only thing I managed to do was pull a call through to Yoko. One of her aides answered the phone, saying she was too upset to talk to me. I can understand her feelings. Perhaps she cannot forgive me for loving John as much as her, and I feel I have no right to intrude into her sorrow. I left a message that I would gladly to anything to help her or their little boy Sean."

May's flat is a shrine to Lennon. Two pictures that she took of John - one showing him shirtless on a beach in California, the other relaxing with ex-Beatles drummer Ringo Starr - take pride of place. A note that Ringo slipped through the door of their New York home is pinned on the wall. "Dear John and May, Popped round to see you. Will call again." May has all of Lennon'd records but her most treasured possession is a doodle he produced.

"He was talking about finding peace and tranquility in his twilight years," she said. "He sketched for several minutes and handed me a drawing of himself as a little old man. 'That's how I'll look, when I'm 64,' he told me."

Lennon obsessed with assassination during the early Beatlemania years, later curbed his fear of death. "His great desire was to grow old gracefully," said May. "Some people fear old age, but John actually looked forward to it."

May, who was nicknamed 'Mother superior' by Lennon because she loved to organise things at his recording sessions, now works for Rod Stewart's record company. She cuddled two pet cats as she told of the gentle side of Lennon.

"When he read about callous acts of violence throughout the world, he would take it all so personally. 'Guns are for cowboys in the movies,' he said. John wanted desperately to be accepted at the level of the ordinary man. He always shunned bodyguards, to avoid attention being drawn to him."

WITTY VERSES

In a magazine interview shortly before his death Lennon said he had sometimes beat up his women. "He was never like that with me," said May. "He was a kind, caring and gentle companion. We would often stay up until dawn discussing music and the world's problems. Sometimes as we lay in bed he would recite poetry - nothing heavy just little witty, amusing verses - or sing to me. He was a real romantic and I don't believe he was capable of hurting a fly."

Lennon's fling with May ended after he bumped into Yoko backstage at an Elton John concert in New York.

She suggested he should improve his health by cutting down on alcohol, losing weight and stopping smoking. An appointment was made for him to visit a hypnotist who treated heavy smokers. Friends say that after his first session in the hypnotist's chair Lennon walked "almost spell-bound" back to Yoko's flat. From then the two were inseperable.

"When John went back to Yoko I knew it was finished between us forever, because he was a loyal and honorable person", said May. He was faithful during our time together and since he returned to Yoko there was never any question of him looking at another woman."

The last time May spoke to Lennon was three years ago ata party at Regine's nightclub in New York. "He was very careful in his choice of words because Yoko never left his side," said May. "I believe he could sense that I had never stopped loving him. I will love him forever. There will always be a corner of my heart reserved for John Lennon.

Lennon's affair was observed by Chris Charlesworth, then American editor of Melody Maker.

Chris, 33, said in London: "He was obviously infatuated with May. Yoko thought it would be a short-lived fling while John sowed his wild oats. I don't think he could ever get Yoko out of his mind. He used to ring her every few days just to hear her voice."

Chris said: "Dying so young was something that never entered John's head. 'When I'm 64, Yoko and I will be a doddery old couple living in a tiny cottage in Ireland,' he said. "Yoko envisaged them growing all their own vegetable and milking a couple of goats every day."

Lennon gave the reason why the fab four could never perform together again.

He told Chris: "If we got our act together it wouldn't be as good as the old days. We're rusty old men." The world will now never know if he meant it.

#going through articles from the first year (in this case days) after john's death is so fascinating #everybody staking out their claim. what narratives get set up what will later be changed.... #May Pang #John Lennon

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 4/25/22

where the fuck were we

listening

Tongue by Rêve. i do not care for this latex aurra sing album art, but this instantly went on the "somebody come fuck this (GAY)" playlist. a fun danceable party bop about oral. other than a concerning line regarding "gamey like venison", what more can you ask for. spotify

Yeah Yeah Yeah by Blood Orchid. starts out with some very straightforward drums and then gets SLUDGY. this makes me want to sing along with the chorus with as much vocal fry as i can manage. i think the band is american, but the pronunciation of "yeah" is something i have only heard from posh brits? i think it works here. spotify

Praising You (feat. Fatboy Slim) by Rita Ora. this is somewhere between a cover and a reimagining? fun if you already know and like the original, fun if you don't. short, peppy, got me through a lot of mopping on saturday. spotify

reading

very long title by susan pinsky. checked this out mostly for any advice on moving, which was limited to two paragraphs that said "get rid of everything possible, the most efficient packing is not always the thing that will get you through a move in one piece, hire people to do everything for you if possible". this was unhelpful to me.

the author is not adhd, but is writing it out of the experience of having an adhd daughter and a ton of clients who probably had adhd. it feels like it is largely geared toward people who have a wife or child with adhd. while the version i read had been updated, it did feel very out of date at several points, especially with regards to calendaring/planning systems and (if possible) forcing everyone to call you at your home phone so you can check your wall calendar that you keep on your wall and not double book yourself. like what.

while i had independently derived some of the specific tips through great trial and error and much of the book simply did not apply to me, it did give some interesting background on why specific things (open storage, clear bins, open shelving, the concept of having one or two shelves free as a staging area in each place you have shelves) work with rather than against us.

i can see this being useful to someone who has recently been diagnosed as an adult, or is managing a family with multiple adhd/otherwise neurodivergent members, but i certainly wouldn't buy it. her big thing is Get The Fuck Rid Of Your Shit while not really providing a lot of pointers on how to go about that, so i could see how pairing this with one of marie kondo's books might be helpful? neither pinsky nor kondo really give a whole lot of advice on like "so you're an adult, here are things adults have in their house to make their lives easier" so perhaps a third unknown book might complete the perfect trilogy. idk man. im cranky her advice about moving was half a page.

Witches, Princesses, and Women at Arms, a collection of erotic lesbian fairytales edited by Sacchi Green. this was objectively fine. i skipped one completely bc it would have been a fucking hysterical short skit but did NOT translate to the page at all. as is ever the case with anthologies, some of them were decent, some of them not so much, almost none will stick in my brain even though there was some very nice butch representation. the one that does stick in my brain, Woodwitch by M. Birds about a princess trying to break a familial curse re: war, and a witch who follows the army, was memorable more for its leadup and acknowledgement of how a marching army works? like yeah! historically that is how armies move and camp and feed themselves huh, this is surprisingly well-researched for lesbian erotica!

the level of explicit erotica is...sort of on the same level as most modern f/f fic? this came out a good five years ago and people sure are having sex on the page, but there's a lot of metaphor and various other veiled imagery.

unfortunately, i want to read about women gettin absolutely nasty with it. i want to read about a pussy written with the same fervor as the average m/m cock in fanfic.

it's misogyny is what it is.

watching

rewatched For A Few Dollars More (1965, dr. Leone). in my heart he fucked that old man

You Can't Win Em All (1970, dir. Collinson) bc a very western-ish screenshot had me absolutely baffled about why a mauser was in a western. this is not a western, this is about some american mercenaries during the 1922 turkish civil war. this is not a very good movie (my main beef is that it spends twenty minutes trying to convince itself why its leads should work together, and the contrivance it lands on isn't particularly compelling or comprehendible after carting through us a whole bunch of other failed inciting incidents). this movie doesn't even manage enjoyably bad, but it sure is a spectacle of a war movie. great calvary columns riding through the prettiest goddamn landscapes you've ever seen. all forms of transportation are covered, including "armored train" and "trio of biplanes". my personal tolerance for exotic travelogue movies is fairly high, yours may not be.

if you want an actual cowboy western with different triple-crossing american mercenaries played by burt lancaster and gary cooper, Vera Cruz (1954, dir. Aldrich) is like a proto-revisionist western? quite a bit darker than i expected for 1) an american western made in 2) 1954

playing

sort of tied in with the making section-- i am deeply unhappy with how much time i am spending with fallou/t 4 bc it is not a game that makes me happy. however, the startup cost to finding a new game that makes me happy is pretty steep. so i spent some time on saturday flinging games into various folders, bc i forgot that was a thing steam lets you do now. maybe a different organizational system will fix me.

do not need to look at again: lots of demos and prologues from my old job, a couple things that aren't on steam anymore, some stuff that came in bundles that i'm not interested in, any strategy games.

done: my time with this game is at an end but i may want to return to a handy list to remind myself of what i have finished. lots of short indie experiences, wolfen/stein the new order, night in the woods, the portals, firewatch, things of this nature

old faithfuls: fnv, fo4, dishonored, sable bc i love simply zooming about.

hard bounce: this is mostly to make myself stop trying to click with hollow knight. i am never going to like fiddly platformers. and that's okay.

try again later: i'm deeply annoyed i'm not clicking with hardspace shipbreaker bc on paper it's the perfect fucking game for me. in practice even after fucking around with all the sensitivities it's still too fiddly for me. i need much, much more forgiving games with a shotgun-close-enough mentality.

making

important moving prep: cleaned out the storage unit that still had the dregs of my last move plus boxes from three grandparents and my mom. this took three full fuckin days bc it was extremely hot, i had to stop to cry a bunch, and a lot of goodwill trips.

the great thing about siblings is that if you've been caretaking a family heirloom that makes you feel weird due to your fractious relationship with the dead person in question, you can foist it off to a sibling who had a completely different less fractious relationship with the dead person in question.

once again i have failed to take a pic of the baby blanket in real daylight but we are slowly chugging along, halfway through repeat 6/10

#tuesday again #tuesday again no problem

[snowbellewells]

Birthday Fic Update: “One More” (part three)

Okay, I realize that it isn’t morning anymore (as I promised @kmomof4 Sorry Krystal!) But it is still Monday, and I’ve kept you waiting less the a week after the painful update. This one won’t fix everything, but you’ll have a better sense of what’s going on, and hopefully things will look less bleak. Also, this update marks the halfway point in the story - so there’s a bit of a hinge point with this one - the first half is from Emma’s point-of-view as usuall, and the second part shows us what’s been going on with Killian.

I hope you’ll enjoy (and perhaps feel less likely to keep out your pitchforks) after this one!

Still a Birthday Fic for @searchingwardrobes -- who I hope will trust me just a little longer, despite the momentary pain.

Also available on AO3, if that’s your preference, or from the start here on Tumblr

Summary: Through the years, Emma keeps waiting - one more placement, one more year, one more separation - until she can find where and with whom she truly belongs. It turns out the person to show her has been right beside her all the time...

by: @snowbellewells

iii. nineteen years old (two years later)

“Just one more good push, Emma!” the nurse at her elbow cajoled, urging her on intently, knowing the young woman was almost out of strength, at the very dregs of her reserves. “You can do it, I know you can.  …Ready? Push!”

Gritting her teeth on a last effort to free the little one inside her, whom she had clung to the hope of meeting, despite the heartache and worry that had hung over her as he grew. She couldn’t fail him now. They would both need every ounce of her resolve to face the world, just the two of them.

Shakily, Emma attempted to give Nurse Green a tremulous smile, though barely able to hold her head upright through her exhaustion. “Just one more, huh?” she huffed, her breath ragged as she exhaled and tried to draw in another. “I think the little guy has other plans, Tink.”

Tina Green, known to many of her patients and co-workers at the small women’s clinic in Seattle where she worked and where she had met Emma as ‘Tink’ for her petite, blonde, pixie-ish looks and chipper manner, merely shook her head. “Whatever it takes to keep you fighting to see him,” she countered stoutly.

The doctor broke into their back and forth from the foot of the bed - matter of fact and as though he had heard none of the women’s conversation that had come before. “Alright, Ms. Swan. The baby’s head is crowning. Now is the time for that final effort. You’re about to meet your son.”

Emma didn’t know that she had more to give; she had been laboring so long now that drawing breath and retaining awareness seemed almost too steep a battle. All the same, she bore down again, praying this truly would be the last push, that her little boy would finally join them. She could only hope she didn’t break Tink’s hand as she clutched it for some minor amount of support.

Over the last several months, there had been so many times; moments when she tossed and turned unable to sleep, when she tried to read maternity books to prepare and only felt inadequate and overwhelmed, or when she stood in the corner market near tears over boxes of cereal, wondering how she would ever keep her child fed and clothed with her meager sole income, when she had almost admitted defeat. She’d considered giving her precious little one up for adoption; thinking even as her heart bled at the idea that he would have to be better off with a family who couldn’t have a child of their own than with her - not even out of her teens, who’d never had a mother herself and could barely keep a roof over her own head. But then Emma remembered her own experience in the system, always alone and never wanted. What if her baby wasn’t adopted either? She simply couldn’t leave him to the same sort of childhood she’d lived through. 

Emma kept herself fighting because, in getting to this point, she and her child were already survivors. They would find a way, because they would have each other. Drawing in a ragged breath and forcing herself to exhale it slowly, Emma refocused on the goal before she was urged to push yet again. If nothing else, she would give her child what she’d only had for a short, golden period in her life - someone to love him unconditionally… a family.

The contracting pain inside her swelled yet again, feeling as if it might tear her apart. ‘One more, one more, one more…” she repeated to herself, almost a mantra that matched her heartbeat, urging her to carry on.

The pressure crested to almost unbearable proportions, and Emma couldn’t hold back the cry torn from her thoat as she gritted her teeth and strained to finally see her baby enter the world, to finally hold him in her arms. 

“There you are, I see the shoulders,” the doctor reported, guiding the newborn on his way. “You’ve got this, Ms. Swan.”

Falling back on her pillow, winded and drained like a deflated balloon, Emma tried to catch her breath, even as she listened intently for the first cries of her little boy, the announcement that he had arrived alive and well.

“Did you hear that, Emma?” Tink’s voice chirped happily at her side, brushing the mussed, sweaty strands of her hair off her forehead and offering her a gentle, encouraging smile. “He’s here! Your little guy’s finally here! You did it!”

“I did, didn’t I?” Emma slurred blearily, her eyelids hovering exhausted at half mast but determined to see the bundle who had caused such worry and excitement before she could fully relax. “Can I hold him yet?”

As if knowing his mother’s voice and prompted to answer it, just then a high, thin wail rang out in the delivery room, the reedy cry of a babe cold and scared outside of the cozy home he had known in his mother’s womb. The plaintive sound reached out as distinctly as an outstretched hand to squeeze her heart. Emma struggled to sit forward, straining to see and comfort her little one in his distress.

Only moments later, Tink moved toward her cradling a white-blanket-swaddled bundle passed on from the doctor as he had finished washing the newborn and clearing his airway. “Here he is, Emma,” she crooned, leaning over to carefully hand the baby off to his eager mother. “He just wanted to see his mama,” she added sweetly. The little boy’s cries lessened the moment he was nestled in Emma’s arms, and the angry red of his tiny wrinkled face lightened as he calmed.

Predictable as it might have been, Emma felt tears welling in her eyes, pooling and streaming down her cheeks. Her joy at holding him in her arms after nine months of waiting - her son, her flesh and blood - overwhelmed and spilled from her in an unchecked torrent. His little upturned nose, chubby cheeks, thin tufts of damp, curling bown hair were already cherished, even as they blurred before her eyes.

Naively, she had feared that he would remind her of the man who’d fathered him; someone she’d met not long after landing in Seattle a year ago, roving blindly in a lost and broken haze, barely remembered beyond messy brown hair, teasing cocoa-colored eyes, and a handful of rushed, less-than-incredible couplings in the back of the stolen car he’d left her with. She fallen in with the older guy almost solely because he’d shown an interest, she’d been running scared, almost starved and out of money to rent a motel room another night, and simply tired - tired of having to figure it all out on her own. When she’d wakened to find him gone about a month after they’d met and thrown their lots in together, she hadn’t even been surprised. She probably should have been hurt, but after Killian’s loss, Neal’s desertion was more like the prick of a thorn than a lasting wound. The positive pregnancy test stolen and then used in the Target bathroom had been the shock that had almost felled her.

Instead, gazing down at her little boy’s placid face, relaxed and nearly dozing once held again in his mother’s soothing warmth, Emma could only see his beautiful sweet innocence. She would give her own life - mere minutes after meeting him - to see that preserved. He should always be able to have the sort of hope she had lost long ago.

Unable to look away, afraid to even blink for fear he might vanish, Emma loved her baby on sight, as if she had never even understood love before. This was one thing at last she knew she had gotten right.

“Henry,” she breathed out softly against his baby soft skin. “Mama’s here… I love you so much, okay? No matter what.” And she vowed then and there, whatever came, Henry Swan - her Henry - would always have his best chance.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

eighteen years old  (not quite three years ago)

When Killian Jones first woke in a base camp mobile hospital overseas, he couldn’t remember where he was or what had happened to him. As he tried to regain his bearings, glancing around and intently tamping down the beginning flickers of panic and that blank canvas within his mind, he knew who he was, but who might be missing him, and why he might be lying there injured in the strange bed beneath him were completely beyond his capability to recall.

Thankfully, as he remained conscious, and doctors and nurses came to check on him and report on his condition and what was being done for him, more of Killian’s awareness and memory came trickling back. He had enlisted in the Navy and reported for basic training. He was had hoped to do his duty, to travel, find his purpose, and also pay for his chance to pursue college study for a career that truly inspired him. He’d been thinking of those possibilities, along with the more mundane pleasure of cuddling with some clearly familiar and comforting blonde beauty in some off-campus coffeeshop, humming along softly to some unknown singer, ignoring his school work and hearing of her day, even as he had been going about the tasks of a routine patrol in what were supposed to be friendly waters, when something had gone wrong. He’d been gladly thinking of making his older brother proud and the happy future stretched out before him when their vessel had been struck.

His brother! An alarm blared in his mind suddenly. Liam! How could he have forgotten?! He’d already wasted so much time! He shook his head in agitated frustration as his realizations multiplied. Bloody hell! Would they have already told his brother he was missing? Or dead?

Quickly flagging down the first orderly who passed, Killian urgently attempted to make the person understand just how desperately, how immediately, his message needed to be sent. He needed to find out if he had already been listed as missing, if his brother had already been notified, and if - 

Emma! This second remembrance was like a bolt of lightning slashing right through the center of his being. How could he have forgotten the most important name he had ever known? She was the beautiful girl beside him in his fantasies of quiet afternoons in a peaceful college town; the smile and sparkling green eyes looking back at him in his dreams. They had been nearly inseparable from the moment they’d met, so how was it possible her memory had not been the first to return to him?

Killian’s stomach fell away, gut clenching in fear and regret at how bravely Emma had tried to seem happy for him when he’d told her of his enlistment. How he had promised her he’d be back at her side before she could even miss him. Tears swam unbidden in his eyes, knowing how it would have devastated her to hear he was lost. Of course, Liam would have tried to tell her gently, but she would have assumed the worst. Life had given Emma Swan little reason to do otherwise in her first seventeen years. And he would, for all that she knew, be just one more person to desert her and leave her behind.

Mercifully, once Killian calmed himself enough to make the situation understood, and to speak with the right higher-ups to ascertain what had been reported and how he should proceed, it didn’t take long for them to help him contact Liam stateside. The relief and joy in his brother’s voice, at what seemed no less than a miracle to the elder Jones brother, was a balm to Killian’s fraught and anxious soul.

But when Liam balked at taking the call next door, not letting Killian speak to Emma, his insides turned to ice. Haltingly, in a voice full of pained regret - both for Killian’s hurt, and as one who had loved the neighbor girl as an older sibling himself - Liam managed to explain that they had no way to tell Emma of Killian’s return. The moment she had turned 18 and was free of the foster system, Emma had vanished. As if she hadn’t been able to look at Killian’s house next door without him there, Emma had fled; no one had seen or heard from her since.  She was just… gone.

Tagging:  @jennjenn615 @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @cosette141 @stahlop @xarandomdreamx @sotangledupinit @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @nachocheese-itsmycheese @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @xsajx @lfh1226-linda @winterbaby89 @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @motherkatereloyshipper @booksteaandtoomuchtv @thislassishooked @blackwidownat2814 @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @scientificapricot @tomeandflickcorner @ineffablecolors @drowned-dreamer @let-it-raines @justanother-unluckysoul​ @wefoundloveunderthelight​ @hollyethecurious​ @bdevereaux​ @zaharadessert​ @kday426​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @artistic-writer​ 

#cs modern au ff #cs birthday fic #cs angst #one more #part three #birthday fic for @searchingwardrobes #young emma #young killian #lieutenant duckling #sort of?

[ellissay-morningstar]

DWC November 2023, Day 5, Strange/Flame

Ellissay had sent word to Elutia to come as quickly as possible. It had still taken some time for her to arrive. It took several hours, even by portals and teleports, due to flight time. During this time, the blue-eyed man had not wakened, but his bleeding seemed to have stopped, and his breathing had become steady.

Still, Ellissay was on edge. What had really happened? In the light of the following day, she noticed bruises on his face and arms; his knuckles were tattered. Clearly, he had gotten into some sort of fight, and if he had won, she would hate to see the other guy. But it would seem he had lost.

He moans softly in his sleep, and she lays her hand on his shoulder to quieten him, knowing any thrashing might cause new bleeding. He mumbles words she can't quite make out except something about a crimson rose. She had no idea what he was talking about. Seemed an odd thing to dream about, or perhaps they were nightmares.

A soft knock at the door brings Ellissay out of her thoughts, and she knows almost instantly that it is her Aunt; she doubts anyone else would knock so softly. Still, she is cautious as she opens the door and lets her cat, Nevio, sniff the air. As Nevio gave a snort of approval, his tail shifting back and forth at the familiar scent, Ellissay opened the door wider. She sighs, grateful to her Aunt, who nods respectfully at her.

She steps aside and allows Elutia into the dwelling. Elutia immediately notices the man still on the floor since Ellissay couldn't lift his weight alone, and she drops down immediately to aid him.

Ellissay feels the need to explain. "I couldn't lift him, and he has been out since I dressed his wound. The bleeding seems to have stopped or at least slowed, but he has yet to awaken. I kept him as warm as I could."

Elutia nods and begins to work. She called to nature itself to heal the man's wounds. The man shifts in his sleep as his body begins to heal, most likely causing some discomfort with how long it took to get to him to heal him after the injury.

Ellissay doesn't interrupt. Instead, she moves to the kitchen and puts on some tea, trying to keep herself distracted while Elutia does her work as a healer. She pauses and leans against the counter, closing her eyes momentarily and hoping that he healed without incident. Her body felt stiff and tense. Perhaps the hot tea would help her to relax.

She opened her eyes and was startled by Elutia standing in front of her, having not heard a sound of her approaching. Elutia takes a soft, deep breath. "It is done, but I can't say when he will wake up. Now that the wound is closed and healed, we can attempt to move him off the floor and onto the couch.

Ellissay nods at her Aunt, and they both approach the man. Ellissay moves toward his head. "I will get this end, and you get his feet." Elutia nods, and they lift him as best they can and shift him slowly toward the couch, rolling him onto it with a few soft grunts. He wasn't exactly a small guy, even for a human.

Once he was on the couch, both women took a deep breath and returned to the kitchen. Ellissay pours some tea for them both, neither speaking for a moment.

Finally, Elutia breaks the silence. "So you going to tell me who he is?"

Ellissay sips her tea and then shakes her head. "That's just it. I am not sure who he is."

She goes on to explain to Elutia the events that occurred, from her assignment all the way to him showing up half-dead on her doorstep.

"I thought he was the enemy, but now I am unsure. Why would he come to me? Clearly, he was on to me when I took the photographs. So, why would he seek me out? I don't think he was coming to me as payback as hurt as he was. His only words to me last night were, I can explain. I don't know if he meant the knife wound or what he was doing here, or what, to be honest. Something just doesn't seem right."

Elutia held the warm cup in both palms of her hand and drank a few sips of her tea as Ellissay spoke. She nods at Ellissay. "I agree something is strange here. If he was the man you were told, coming to you makes no sense. Perhaps when he wakes up, we will learn more. You want me to stay?"

Ellissay shakes her head. "No, it might be best if it is just me when he wakes up."

Elutia nods and finishes off her tea, sitting the cup on the counter before she moves to hug her niece. "Call me again if you need me and…" she pulls back, looking straight at her. "…be careful."

Ellissay walks her Aunt to the door and sees her out. She closes the door and briefly turns her eyes to the man, still unconscious on the couch. She turned and took a deep breath, noticing the flames in the fireplace had died down. She moved to add a few logs and stoke the fire once more.

Again, she sits in the chair at the window, grabbing a few photographs she had left on the table beside it. Perhaps they would give her some insight…

@daily-writing-challenge

#novemberdwc2023 #novemberday52023 #ellissay-morningstar #day 5 #strange #flame #the story continues #writing #world of warcraft

[sylviazem]

captivate - for the single-word fic prompt!

Captivate

There was quite a bit of commotion at the Drowning Wench. A crowd was gathered around a tall, dark woman, who was regaling the people around her with impressive, and perhaps slightly exaggerated tales of adventure.

"So can ye actually take on any weapon", a Maelstrom officer asked, tapping his axe. "How would ye deal wif this then, eh?"

"Pfft", the stranger waved her hand at him. "I bet your wild swings would leave you wide open. Even if for a moment, that's all I need. I'm awful fast, you see. Lithe, too."

"Tch", the remark elicited a mocking laugh from his fellows, and he begrudgingly smiled. "...Aye, yer probably right."

"Every weapon has a weakness, and it's my specialty to be that weakness", she explained, rather smugly. "Swords, shields, axes...Knives, polearms, yada yada yada. I've studied and fought against them all, and I always find a way to break my prey."

"Um", from among the impressed murmurs of the crowd, a woman shyly raised her voice. "What if, um...What if yer losin' a fight?"

"Losing? Aha, hardly, my dear. But...Well", she laughed, and ran her hands down the sides of her own body. "I can always rely on this."

Oh, wow..! Aye, that'd work on me, all right. That ebon fur is awfully captivating... Once again, she impressed her audience, though not in the way she intended.

"Ah-", for a split second, she was flustered. "Though I meant my dark coat allows me to slip away into the shadows, o-of course I have also mastered the art of seduction! After all, who could resist this much pure, unadulterated sex appeal?"

Aye, I'll drink to that! Teehee! She is quite...attractive... C'mere wif us, kitty! We'll show ye a good time!

"Sorry to disappoint, boys", she turned her back towards the men, and flicked her tail dismissively. "This kitty is reserved for fellow pussycats."

"Ach, bollocks", the officer downed the rest of his drink. "Tongue as sharp as Llymlaen's dagger, too. I do like that in a gal."

"Oh, you don't know the half of it", she put her arm around the waist of the shy lady from the crowd, and smooched her hand. "Would you like to find out more, you cute little thing? Maybe someone else, too? No need to be shy, now; there's plenty of me to go around."

"Ye lucky ladies be'er not let this one slip away", the officer hollered as he left the tavern. "She's a real...cat-ch! Haha..!"

"Sheesh. Now then, my lovely ladies", she approached the Mizzenmast innkeeper with the two women giggling and clinging to her arms. "Room for one, please. No need to worry; we'll be sharing the bed."

Perhaps later, you could help me with some information gathering. I'm looking for a certain someone.

A hero, you could say.

#ffxiv #oc: ??? #was mulling this over for a few days and then suddenly I was like 'oh shit make some groundwork for the new hrothgal OC' #she doesn't have a name yet but she's Very Gay and Trying To Kill my WoL #and she's gonna fail miserably. #also. in case you can't tell. she's uhh. kinda over the top. #and it's Totally Intentional. Duh. To better hide that she's an assassin. I mean...duh. #*subtle headshake to signify: no*

[lawhurt]

alright welcome to jamie & beth class kiddos.

do i think jamie was justified in doing what he did to beth. no. do i think it was good, no. do i think there's any 'excuse' for doing what he did? no. do i think beth should forgive him? no. do i think beth should love him, or even be nice to him, in a general sense? no. i think she has a right to hate jamie and there's lots of things jamie could have done to try and make things right -- but he never did. and that's entirely, 100% on him. he did something irrevocable to his sister and that is 100% not okay.

i love beth as a character. i love strong females as one myself, and i love a women like her. i always have. that's why i encouraged my fiance to write her, and i do see so much of her in beth. i adore beth's dynamics with the characters on the show, and while i can't pretend i understand the fact that she's willing to lose the ranch, just to do whatever her father says at any given moment, i really couldn't care less if she's a nice person or not. i couldn't give a fuck, i think she's kickass and she's one of my favorite parts of the show / part of why i got invested. i remember her first scene and i loved her, no matter how much how she treats jamie can make me upset. but i ultimately have no way of knowing how she feels.

but i don't wanna hear that she's exempt from being a horrid, shrewd cunt because jamie did that, and her mother died. if i did half the things to my abuser that she did i would be in jail and the only reason she isn't is because of her name, and because she calls jamie because she knows he has to help her. do you know why? because even if someone hurts you, you cannot fucking spend the next three decades physically and mentally and verbally abusing someone. perhaps if he was the one performing the procedure and you killed him in self defense. but there's no self defense claim unless he presented a threat. and because jamie won't fucking call anyone, he won't defend himself.

not only does she beat him, break him down mentally, verbally put him down and emasculates him in front of people who need to respect him, and she told him to kill himself. NOT ONLY THAT, BUT SHE IS THREATENING TO HARM OR KILL HIS CHILD. AN INNOCENT TODDLER.. SHE MADE HIM KILL HIS OWN FATHER. THREATENED to take away any happiness he may have in his life, when she is allowed to have a husband and an adoptive son? their father? that kind of behavior on here would not garner the kind of fandom obsession that she does, LET ME TELL YOU. if i'm expected (and do openly) accept and not grapple with jamie's flaws, people must do the same for beth. i don't fucking care, i don't care.

you cannot, and will not convince me that a lifetime of abuse from 18 to forty FUCKING FIVE is justified by what he did. that's not how anything works.

i'm not mad about the plot-line or how the show treats jamie, bc i find wes gives him such an emotion. but this fandom likes to pretend that beth is so girlboss for doing what she does to jamie when it's just kind of pathetic to see her just bark at jamie now because "she knows everything and he knows nothing" (like how filing power of attorney works a-fucking-pparently) and he can't convince her of shit even tho she knows he's right. but he's the selfish one for not telling their dad exactly what he wants to hear at any given moment.

also what she did to rip is just in a whole nother league of fucked up and she doesn't deserve his forgiveness lmfao.

EDIT: she also blackmailed him lolol

#wendy testaburger voice: I'M FINISHED #§. ⸻ ᵐᵒʳᵍᵃⁿ › ᵒᵒᶜ

[mischiefmaker615]

Tears of a Mermaid (Loki Love Story Ch.6)

''what are you talking about?'' Loki asked, tensing as he moved a little closer to Mara protect fully.

''a guard reported to have seen a maiden dressed in ..a little it more than nothing.. and thought it was from perhaps one of your tricks, or a maid in search of you after you had-''

''is that all?'' Loki cut him off, not realizing how he had taken Mara's hand out of instinct and lightened his grip ever so slightly as Thor eyed her.

''we're just making sure we don't have anyone from the village wandering the palace at random.''

''i assure you she's fine and in my personal care, i have brought her from the village after i had been riding through and come across her. everything else is none of your business.'' 'honestly whats the big deal? Thor used to bring different women back with him all the time, primarily to his chambers..'

''i'm Mara'' Mara pipped up with a smile, getting to see another land dweller up close as she looked him over, Thor noticing as he returned the look.

''Thor, son of Odin and God of thunder'' he introduced, swooping her other hand and kissing her knuckled, making Loki quickly side step to break them apart and pulled her past him out the door

''if that is all then i shall be giving her a tour, alone.'' Loki told him, hoping he'd get the hint and already started walking down the halls with her before she looked back and waved goodbye. upon this, Loki quickly switched sides and took her hand in his, the one Thor had touched. let alone kissed..

''so he's the one you were telling me about?'' she asked curiously, not really seeing the idiot in him as Loki seemed to teach her about often.

''yes, and best avoid him while your here so my father won't find out, he's better at noticing differences and gods knows what would happen if he figured out who you really are.'' Loki warned her and slowed his pace once Thor was out of his site so she could better look at things ''but for today until dusk, take in as many sites as you wish''

the next few hours seemed to go by fast, having shown her the palace mostly on the outside to avoid any confrontation from those who might be able to tell what Mara was, or was not. her favorite seemed to be the courtyard that led up to the gardens, noticing she still had the strong interest in flowers. he showed her the training area, having to pull her hands back to avoid her touching any sharp objects before moving on and found themselves at the stables, having a horse already saddled and he led her over.

''it be much faster to see the village if we had better transportation other than walking'' he half joked and she gently ran a hand over the horses mane, earning an affectionate nuzzle.

''they're amazing..and they let you ride them too'' she grinned, petting its nose before watching Loki get on and offer her a hand ''thank you,'' she told the horse, as if given permission to ride before taking Loki's hand. he swiftly pulled her up and she quickly wrapped her arms around his waist out of instinct, thinking she was going to fall before she relaxed. after she adjusted, her arms stayed around his waist, only tightening once he got the horse to move in a decent paced walk. he hid a smile, feeling her around him and felt the strength she had compared to most women of Asgard.

''hold on tight'' he warned, feeling her press herself closer before he got the horse into a trot, letting her adjust and get used to the pace before quickening the journey to a mild gallop, heading to the Asgard village.

she seemed to be enjoying herself, feeling the wind on her face and her hair flowed behind her as she took in Asgard, from his golden walls to its tall structures, each designed to be protective and comfortable as people roamed around the areas, quickly moving to the side upon them running by. as they got to more of the home life where children could be seen playing, women laughing and roaming and men carrying various things and enjoying the company of their families, Loki came to a trot so she could take in things a bit better.

''this is..everything i thought it would be as you described'' she breathed, returning some smiles and laughing as children played on the outskirts, guards here and there roaming around to assure people's safety and women sending waves at either her or Loki.

''i am glad you are enjoying it, i come here from time to time but we royals are normally strict to the palace where we have to deal with those outside our realms and prevent any risk of them coming here with negative intent.''

''in all my centuries i have never seen any trouble happen anywhere, you must be doing a good job'' she half teased, knowing she was right as she got closer, biting her lip as the feeling returned in her chest as her eyes softened as she looked at him from what she could see.. she meant what she said from earlier..she did have feelings for him..

Loki had allowed her to see a good majority of Asgard, but the time had come where it was mid afternoon and he had taken them back to the palace where he dismounted and caught her waist when she did the same.

''that was amazing..'' she marveled as he helped her down and he couldn't help but chuckle, see how excited she was over something he had seen almost on a daily. ''could we see the garden again?''

''right this way m'lady'' he chuckled and led her by the hand once more the the gardens, seeing how she wandered about, delicately stroking petals and giggled whenever he magically changed their color, though his smile went to alarm when his mother came out of no where and he quickly turned around.

''and who might this maiden be?'' she asked with a friendly smile and Mara returned it

''Mara''

''pleasure to meet you, i was wondering who was changing the colors of the flowers'' she lightly scolded and Loki hid a small smile as looked at his mother.

''your the one who taught me how''

''and it was one of the very first tricks he learned,'' Frigga said proudly, mainly talking to Mara before looking back at her son ''what might bring her here?''

''..we crossed paths while i was out riding and thought i'd bring her here'' Loki told her quickly, doing his best to use not a lot of words to prevent himself from lying to her, knowing he could, but she was the last person he wanted to lie too.

''well it has been quite awhile since i've seen you smile like that, if you best excuse me i'd like a word with my son'' Frigga informed her and Mara gave a small bow and a smile ''of course, i'll be waiting here them'' she said and Loki relaxed, knowing she'll be fine and wouldn't wonder off.

as Loki and Frigga walked a little ways, she wrapped an arm around him and sighed ''you have feelings for her,''

''i never said that..''

''you didn't need too.''

Loki sighed, knowing his mother knew him well and let his smile show he had been hiding ''she's..different, quite different, she's special..''

''and she doesn't stay because..?''

his mother could almost read him like a book, and he sighed, glancing ahead as he did his best to choose his words carefully ''it's..not the right time, i suppose its because of what might be going on in her life, and mine, but i have offered, decisions don't come fast''

''but they're usually made when you least expect them..i haven't seen you this happy in a long time my son, if she's the one, then hold her close'' she told him, her voice almost getting lower as if Mara was there with them now.

Loki couldn't help but smile as he looked down, knowing his mother was right, even if the situation was complicated. his eyes glanced up, seeing they had walked in basically a circle around the courtyard and was back to where Mara was..and Thor was with her. his body tensed and he kept himself composed as he looked at his mother gently ''i best be getting her home, i shall return after'' he told her and Frigga gave his arm a gently squeeze before leaving, his eyes telling him goodbye before his own sharply seemed to pierce in Thor's direction.

Mara looked over at Loki when he got closer and her excitement showed as she returned to his side, almost as if she were a puppy ''Thor was telling me more of your adventures beyond the realm''

''primarily the successful ones, i am glad you seem to be doing better'' Thor smiled, hiding the guilt in his eyes as he glanced at where Loki had been stabbed the other day.

''best try to learn not to make the same mistake again, as you still need to learn repeatedly apparently'' Loki said sarcastically and Mara raised a brow a little, knowing from what he had told her what Thor was like, but still didn't know why he kept firing at him when things seemed to be fine in the present moment.

''well every adventure is different, at least its a surprise every time'' Thor chuckled, giving a small slap on his back before turning to Mara with a royal bow ''best be off my lady,''

''where are you off too?''

''Midgard, it's where my primary time consists off where i get to be apart of the Avengers'' he said proudly.

''the Avengers?'' she asked a cocked her head to the side.

''they're-''

''getting close to dusk, its best to tell tales at a lady time brother, i must return her home.'' Loki interrupted and Mara sighed, giving a little bow and smile before she was pulled off by Loki.

''as of next time God of Thunder'' she called with a small giggle, the tight feeling of jealousy returning to Loki and making him walk all the most faster as he gripped her hand, her quickening her pace to keep up with him ''Loki slow down- i'm still new to these things'' she half joked and picked up her dress with the other hand where he slowed a little, leading her down the halls and relaxed once Thor was out of sight; jealousy still there to have known she was even talking to the idiot. he glanced at her a little when she was examining her other hand a raised a brow

''whats wrong?''

Mara shrugged a little with her innocent wonder ''his hands are a bit rougher, yours is smoother''

something inside him almost seemed to snap as his eyes flashed, side stepping ironically to the correct door they just had been passing and slammed the door shut before her back pressed up against the wall with him closing the distance between them.

#Thor and Loki #loki odinson #Loki Laufeyson #loki #loki smut #loki x reader smut #loki god of mischief #loki is not a villain #loki imagine #loki fluff #lokifluff #loki fanfic

[thegeminisage]

TNG UPDATE TIME. it's been ages. monday we did "a matter of time" (boo) and wednesday we did "new ground" (holy shit).

a matter of time: did you guys know the little guy here played pestilence on spn? his vibes were horrific. he was awful. i don't say that about the actor himself, who was obviously very good if he could get us to lean back from our screens like that, but i did NOT like that. not one bit. now every time i see him in spn gifs i get scared

anyway it's been awhile since we had such a huge dud and i did not miss it. everybody was extra stupid this episode to make the bad guy seem smart, My Least Favorite. he was also there ALL THE TIME instead of giving us a break from him which was also super awful

also he tried to kidnap data, though i love that he failed hilariously and also they made a new jersey joke

i predicted the twist of this episode - that he was from the past, not the future - about halfway through. so at least i get to feel accomplished about something.

i do like that deanna told him to fuck off. she's never mean to anybody but he REALLY deserved it

new ground: I LOVE WORF................

i'm soooo mad at people in the star trek calling worf a deadbeat dad. idk if he does something shitty later but i totally understood the ethical dilemma in this ep maybe even perhaps better than the writers wanted me to bc the thing is like. sorry

CHILDREN

SHOULD

NOT

BE

ON

STARSHIPS

sorry to families with children. sorry to single mothers and actually to women everywhere. sorry even to wesley crusher, my perfect precious baby boy, who i will defend with my life. they SHOULD NOT BE ON STARSHIPS.

like, ok. let's get into it. i did think it was wack that worf initially sent alexander to his human parents...but that's because he wanted his son to have access to klingon society, which was something he himself DID NOT HAVE and COULD NOT GIVE ALEXANDER had anyone known alexander was worf's son. it was TOTALLY REASONABLE for worf to be thrown headfirst into parenthood and be smart enough to say, not only am i incapable of raising a child at this juncture in my life, i am incapable of connecting him to his culture, WHICH

WAS ALSO DENIED TO HIM. BY HIS MOTHER!!! LET'S NOT FORGET HIS MOM HATED KLINGONS like ik the writers forgot but EYE DIDN'T!!!!!!!!!

alexander's mother was a half-klingon woman who HATED KLINGONS. she at MULTIPLE POINTS made racist remarks about them and self-disparaging remarks about her own klingon heritage. she even gave alexander, despite being "more" klingon than human dna-wise, a HUMAN NAME. obviously the tng writing room wasnt going yeah ofc worf wants him to have access to klingon culture after all that but OFC HE DOES

which makes it wack to me that he sent alexander off to live with his parents and not his brother. NO ONE KNOWS kurn is worf's brother. he could have raised alexander on the klingon homeworld as his own, or even as his nephew, and no one would ever have known he was connected to worf. whereas sending alexander to live with the humans who raised worf is a huge indicator that he is worf's child

one might say, well he thinks klingon schools would be too harsh for this kid who was essentially raised as a human. this is a legitimate and valid concern he has in the episode as well. worf would not be as harsh as the klingon schools but he WOULD give alexander access to his klingon heritage. so that's the happy medium! as a side bonus we also don't give alexander EVEN MORE abandonment issues. the problem is,

CHILDREN SHOULDN'T BE ON A STARSHIP. we see in this very episode why they shouldn't be on a starship. "oh the saucer can separate whenever to protect the kiddos" SPACE IS DANGEROUS. they never have the budget or the time to separate the saucer. they just take all those little guys into horrible experiments whenever. i could almost understand if it was like, a spaceship that just delivered freight or something but it's an EXPLORATORY SHIP its SOLE PURPOSE is to head into unknown dangers. DON'T TAKE CHILDREN.

meanwhile worf is late to work meetings and gets commed twice about his kid while he's trying to explain himself to picard like...now you've got to consider the fact that people on the enterprise live at their workplace. they are basically on call 24/7. like if a space disaster strikes it is not gonna wait until you are through with your weekend relaxation or are finished putting your kid to bed. you CAN'T be on a starship and raise your child at the same time because as a parent you have to put your child first always and as a starship officer where EVERYONE COULD DIE AT ANY TIME you have to put the ship first always and TWO THINGS can't BOTH be first priority

like, worf is literally doing the best he can. maybe he should have sent alexander to live with his brother when he was still a little squirt but it may be too late for that now. there are quite literally no good options here to this moral dilemma of "where does my baby belong" which is actually so good because worf ALSO doesn't have a place he totally belongs. they both have a foot in each world. i bet it would be really good if it wasn't on tng

ANYWAY. sorry. there's a post in the george kirk tag about star trek fathers that disses worf and it makes me see red every time. wow! TONIGHT: "hero worship" (forboding title i hate tng episodes with kids) and "violations" (equally forboding title but here's hoping it just means we'll be playing riker roulette).

#personal #star trek blogging #tng lb

[abundanceofsoph]

SkyFire 3: Chapter 18

Relationships - Beginnings, Middles, and Ends?

:September - October 2018

Word count: 3.6k

SkyFire 3 MASTERLIST

As the end of September began to near, Niall returned to London and he caught up with Aurora for lunch. They sat outside a cafe nearby the studios, enjoying the sunshine. Niall had spent the last half an hour lamenting his dating woes to his happily married friend. 

“It’s not fair,” he sighed. “You and Harry are perfect for each other and Lou and Elanor are back together and happy… I just want that, you know?”

“I do,” Rori agreed. “I’ve never known you to have a hard time meeting women though.”

“It’s not meeting them that’s the problem,” Niall replied. “It’s easy to start dating someone, it’s keeping it going that’s hard.”

“Maybe you just need help picking better options. What are you looking for?”

“Honestly? Someone that I can just be myself around.”

“You didn’t feel that way with the others?”

“It always ends up feeling like they’re dating Niall Horan,” he explained and Rori knew what he meant immediately. Being famous could be really fun and it came with a lot of benefits, but the downside was that it was often hard to know if people genuinely liked you or just liked your name and what it represented.  “I just want to find a normal girl,” Niall continued, “with a normal job that wants to settle down. I want something serious.”

Aurora was quiet for a moment, her thoughts ticking over. Perhaps it was the pregnancy hormones, or perhaps it was the stability of staying in one place for several months for the first time in years, but Aurora was feeling overwhelmingly content and wanted to ensure those around her were too. “I might know the perfect girl, actually.”

“You do?” 

“Yeah. I’ve actually always thought the two of you would be great together but whenever one of you is single, the other’s been in a relationship or on a dating break.”

“Who is she?”

“Ella,” Rori explained. 

“Ella’s not interested in me,” Niall scoffed. 

“Are you kidding me? She’s always had a bit of a crush but you either weren’t available or she was too intimidated. You should ask her out.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Aurora promised. “Call her and ask to take her to dinner. I promise you won't regret it.” 

xXx

The following week, Louis and Rori were talking about the fact that Louis had been speaking with Zayn the previous day. 

“So you’ve fully patched things up now?” Rori asked. 

“I wouldn’t say we’ll ever be like we were in the band,” Louis admitted. “I think too much has happened for us to go back to being brothers like that, but I feel we’ve fixed things enough to be friends.”

“I’m glad,” Rori said. “I mean, I’m not glad you’ll never be like it was in the band, but I’m glad you can be friends again. I was hurt when he cut us all off, but I know it was way worse for you than it was for me.”

“Yeah, I guess it’s a combination of getting out of all of that toxic shit and also just growing up, but I can look at it now and I get that he needed to get out to save himself.”

“I tried to call him so many times afterwards,” Rori admitted. “He probably blocked me because I never heard from him.”

“I think he changed his number.”

“That makes sense,” Rori nodded. Louis watched as she fidgeted with the pen on the table in front of her, her eyes locked on the blue plastic. 

“Do you want his new number?” he asked. “Maybe now’s a good time to heal old wounds.”

She finally looked up to meet his gaze. “Do you think he’d even want to talk to me after all these years?”

“He replied to me when I reached out, and you didn’t drag him online like I did.”

“Maybe you could give him my number and tell him it’s ok if he doesn’t want to talk to me, but I’m here if he does?”

“I can do that,” Louis agreed with a soft smile. 

“Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

xXx

Zayn texted her 3 days later, asking if she wanted to get a coffee and she quickly accepted. 

“I just don’t understand why you’re doing this?” Harry asked for a third time that morning. 

“Because I have questions,” Rori explained again as she buttoned her jeans up in their walk-in closet. She watched Harry in the reflection of the mirror as he stood in the bedroom behind her. 

“Like what?” Harry scoffed. “Why was he a selfish prick that blew everything up instead of just talking to us?” 

“Harry,” Rori sighed. She was exhausted from having this same argument on repeat for the last several days. “I’ve already explained this so many times. He was my friend, he was in pain and I missed it. I want to know how I missed it. I want to know what I could have done differently so that he could have felt safe talking to me.”

“What he did wasn’t on you,” Harry argued. “The only person responsible for what he did was him.”

“I have to go or I’m going to be late.”

“Yeah, sure. Just dismiss me again.”

“Harry I can’t have this fight with you right now and honestly I don’t want to have any fight with you. I’m going now and I really hope you get this attitude in check by the time I get home.”

xXx

Zayn was already waiting for her in a booth when she arrived at the Golden Stag. It was awkward at first, with neither of them knowing what to say or how to start. 

“I read you and Harry bought the place,” Zayn said after several awkward pauses in conversation. 

“We did, yeah,” Rori nodded. “Helen and Greg couldn’t afford to keep it and I wasn’t ready to say goodbye so we bought it and have been updating it a bit.”

“Fresh coat of paint?” Zayn asked. 

“That and the stage,” Rori agreed, gesturing over to the small platform that had been recently built in the far corner of the room near where her piano was set up. “We want to start organising open mic nights. Music, Comedy, and maybe even some pub trivia nights. Just some different ways to get people in and spending their money, you know?”

“Sounds awesome. You guys have really got things sorted by the sounds of things.”

“We’re certainly trying… How about you Zayn? How’s your life been?”

They chatted for a while, updating each other on their lives before finally building up the courage to talk about what had ended their friendship all those years ago. 

“I really am sorry I ghosted you,” Zayn finally admitted. “The guys were just so angry when I told them, I couldn’t imagine you feeling differently. Especially with how angry Harry was.”

“Harry’s temper has always been his downfall,” Rori admitted. “Especially when he uses it to mask when he’s been hurt. I won't lie, you hurt me but I understood you were protecting yourself.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t written a song about it to be honest,” Zayn admitted. “Most of the boys have.”

“I did,” Rori replied, “a few years ago.”

“D’you ever record it?”

“No, I sold it,” Rori replied. “Wanna hear it?”

“Yeah I would,” Zayn agreed, watching quietly as Rori pulled her phone out of her pocket and opened spotify. She queued up the track before handing a headphone to Zayn and placing the other in her own ear. She didn’t miss the slight flinch as his fingers brushed her prosthetic. The opening piano riff of Tell Me How filled their ears, and then Hayley Williams started to sing the words that Aurora had written years ago, only a few months after Zayn had vanished. He refused to meet her eye as the first verse played, and instead stared at his hands, clasped together on the table between them. 

I can't call you a stranger

But I can't call you

I know you think that I erased you

You may hate me, but I can't hate you

And I won't replace you

Tell me how to feel about you now

He didn’t lift his gaze until the bridge, finally looking up at his former friend. 

You keep me up with your silence

Take me down with your quiet

Of all the weapons you fight with

Your silence is the most violent

“I never really thought about the damage I caused when I left,” he finally said when the song ended. “I knew the guys would hate me but beyond that I didn’t stop to consider anyone else.”

“I meant what I said before, I don’t blame you,” Rori replied. “You were fighting for survival. It’s not selfish to save your own life.”

“You make what I did sound noble.”

“Maybe not noble, but definitely necessary,” she elaborated. “I’m just sorry we didn’t see it happening and step in to save you first. We failed you.”

“No,” he replied. “No, I was ashamed so I hid what I was feeling until I couldn't anymore.”

“Can we agree that we both could have done better?” Aurora offered as an olive branch. “I’m pretty sure we could go back and forth over whose fault it was forever and we’d never get anywhere.”

“I think that seems fair,” Zayn agreed with a soft smile. 

Aurora smiled back, turning the conversation to lighter topics and within minutes it felt like they were back on a tour bus all those years ago, sharing quiet conversations on long drives in the middle of the night. Things were going great and flowing easily, but Aurora couldn’t ignore the way Zayn’s eyes would occasionally flick down to where her prosthetic was resting on the table. Everytime it happened it was just for a split second and for a while she tried to convince herself that she was imagining it. Eventually she couldn’t ignore it any longer and certainly couldn’t ignore the way his brows would pinch together slightly. 

“Do you have a problem with my prosthetic?” she finally asked, a little more bluntly than she intended. 

“What?” Zayn gasped. “No, god no.”

“You keep looking at it and frowning and it’s hard to think of another reason,” she explained. “I understand that it makes some people uncomfortable but honestly Zayn…”

“No,” he interrupted.  “No, it’s not that, I promise.”

“Then what is it?”

“When I saw the news about the shooting,” Zayn started. “When I saw that footage of Steve carrying you to the ambulance, it was awful.”

“I hear that a lot,” Rori replied. 

“And I felt so guilty,” he continued. 

“Why would you feel guilty?”

“Because I was a terrible friend to you and I thought you were going to die hating me.”

“But I didn’t die,” she pointed out, “and I never hated you. Why didn’t you reach out then?”

“Because I’m a coward,” Zayn admitted, “and I thought you and the guys hated me for what I did. It would have been selfish of me to show back up then.”

“Zayn there’s nothing I would have loved more than for you to reach out after the shooting.”

“I’m so sorry, Rori. I’m sorry for everything.”

“I know you are,” she offered with a smile, “and I forgive you, just like Louis does. We were all just kids and we fucked up a lot of things back then.”

“Do you think Harry will ever forgive me too?” Zayn asked and in that moment he seemed so small and so young.  “I’ve spoken to Niall and Liam since Louis and I patched things up but it’s been radio silence from Harry. It’s why I was so surprised when Lou gave me your number and said you wanted to reach out.”

“Harry’s stubborn,” Rori sighed. “He’s still holding on to a lot of anger and I don’t know whether he’ll ever let it go.”

“Yeah, I thought as much,” Zayn agreed. “Can’t imagine he was thrilled about today.” 

“He’s not,” Rori agreed. “We’ve kind of been fighting about it for the last couple of days.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. He’s been a bit of a dick lately, but I guess that’s a part of being married. Sometimes the person you’re married to acts like a dick and you put up with it until they pull their head out of their arse and apologise.”

“Are you happy, Rori?” Zayn asked softly. “I mean apart from the current predicament of your husband being a dickhead?”

“I am,” she replied with a chuckle. “Are you?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“I’m glad. We deserve that.”

It was late afternoon by the time they said their farewells with promises to stay in touch and Aurora made her way home, hoping that Harry would be in a better mood than when she’d left. 

xXx

Harry hadn’t continued their argument when she’d returned to their flat, but over the next few weeks his bad mood continued and while Rori was pretty sure she’d caused it, she couldn't for the life of her figure out what she’d done wrong.  

A week before the first live shows were set to begin, and a week after Aurora entered her second trimester,  she was starting to feel exhausted and her feet ached constantly. By the end of each day all she wanted to do was get home as quickly as possible so that she could curl up and fall asleep. It was a Thursday in October and after a long day working with her contestants, Aurora headed straight home, barely making it to the couch before she collapsed in a hump and fell asleep.  When she woke, it was dark and she could hear Harry coming into the apartment, he’d just slammed the door which is what had woken her up. She was groggy and it took her a moment to catch up to what was happening and the fact that he was yelling.

“Where the fuck were you Aurora?” he bellowed. 

“What are you talking about Harry?'' she mumbled as she struggled to catch up with what was happening. .

“I said where were you?”he repeated, looming over her where she was still laying on the sofa. 

“I was right here,” she replied. “Why are you yelling at me?”

“Because you were supposed to meet me in Soho for dinner with the movie execs and you never showed! I thought something happened to you and now I get home to find you asleep on the sofa. What the fuck Rori?”

“No, dinner isn’t till Thursday.” 

“It is Thursday and you weren’t there!”

“Oh god!” Rori gasped, placing a hand over her mouth in dawning realization. “I’m so sorry, Harry.”

“I asked one thing,” Harry continued to shout, his anger not abating as he berated her. “I asked my wife to be supportive of me for one fucking meal and you couldn’t be bothered to show up for me!”

“Harry I’m sorry,” Rori sobbed, “I was exhausted and I genuinely didn’t realize it was tonight. Can we reschedule?” She stood up from the sofa, reaching out for him, but taking a quick step back when he lurched away from her. 

“No, Aurora! Because not everyone on this planet is just going to change their plans to fit around you. My god, when did you become so selfish?”

“That’s not fair, Harry. Please stop yelling at me.”

“No. I'm mad and I have every right to be and if I want to yell in my own home then I’m damn well going to!”

“I'm sorry. How can I fix this? Please, just let me fix this,” she begged. 

“You can start thinking about anyone but yourself for starters.”

“Do you really think that? That I’m selfish? That I don’t think of you?”

“You’ve made it pretty bloody obvious lately, haven’t you? There’s a reason we're here in London. There’s a reason you’re pregnant with a kid that’s not ours.”

“Both things that you agreed to,” she reminded him. 

“I guess I just didn’t realize I was agreeing to everything being all about you.”

At that, something in her snapped and the anger rose in her to meet her husband's temper. “Is it all about me Harry? or is it that for the first time in our marriage, I don’t revolve around you like you're the sun? Is your little narcissistic ego bruised because I’m doing something for me for once?”

“This isn’t about my ego. This is about yours! This is supposed to be a partnership. We’re supposed to be doing things together. But you seem pretty happy off on your own.”

“We can’t be joined at the hip! That’s not healthy,” Rori yelled. “I’m more than just your wife or the girl who plays piano in your band.”

“You’ve made that painfully clear. Honestly I don’t even know why I’m here.”

Aurora felt like she’d been slapped. She’d known Harry had been angry for weeks. She’d known that something was wrong between them, but she hadn’t realised how much he had grown to resent her. She felt so betrayed by him in that moment that she lashed out, saying the worst thing she could in that moment. “Why are you then?” she screamed. “If you want to be in LA writing your next big hit then just go! Don’t let your selfish wife hold you back. You just go and live your rockstar dreams and surround yourself with people desperate to make it all about you.”

“You know what? I will.” Without another word, Harry turned on his heel and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him, the sound echoing in the dead silence left in his wake. 

The silence that was finally broken by the smashing of the glass fruit bowl as Aurora lashed out at it, causing it to fly off the end of the kitchen counter and shatter against the tile floor. She looked at the broken shards for a moment before turning on her heel and heading to their bedroom, angrily throwing herself onto the bed that smelt of her and Harry. 

xXx

She barely slept, unable to stop Harry’s angry words from swirling around her head. She felt so defeated and so incredibly guilty for not seeing how much her actions had been affecting him. Of course she knew that Harry’s feelings were his own responsibility and that he was being unfair to accuse her of being selfish for taking the X Factor job, or for being her parents' surrogate. He should have talked to her about how he felt about the changes they had made recently, but that didn’t stop her feeling guilty for hurting him, whether she’d meant to or not. 

By the time she heard the front door open, she’d decided that the best thing for them would be for Harry to go to LA and write while she stayed and finished the show. She climbed out of bed, still wearing the clothes from the day before, and met him in the living room. He looked awful, his clothes disheveled and his hair a mess. Even from a few feet away, she could smell the bourbon wafting off him and she wondered if he was still drunk. 

“I’m so sorry for last night,” she began, her voice soft in the awkward atmosphere. 

“Rori…” Harry began with a gravely, pleading tone. 

“No, please let me go first,” she interrupted. “I let you down last night and I feel terrible for it.” Harry’s head dropped lower as she spoke, unable to meet her eye and his guilt was painfully clear to see, but she pushed on regardless. “While I think a lot that you said last night was out of line, you were also right about some things too.”

“Rori, please just let me…” Harry tried again. 

“Harry, I think you should go to LA to write,” Rori continued. “You can stay at Dad’s Malibu house and you can work on the next album and I actually think it could be really healthy for us to have some time apart for a few weeks or a couple of months. I mean most couples don’t work together every day and maybe we just need to reestablish ourselves as individuals.”

“Rori I slept with someone,” Harry confessed. She froze, shocked beyond words and unsure what to do. “I was so angry when I left here that I went straight to a club and I got so black out drunk and this girl was all over me and I hate myself.”

“You need to leave,” she finally said. 

“Rori, baby. I’m so sorry. I was so stupid and I don’t…” Harry began. 

“I said you need to leave,” she repeated quietly. “Go to LA, get a hotel, go stay with Anne. I don’t care where you go but I want you out of this house.”

“Baby, please.”

“Harry, I swear to god if you don’t start packing a bag, I will. I love you, but I don’t want to even look at you right now.”

“Let’s just talk about this.”

“GET OUT!” she screamed, finally unleashing the pain that was burning its way through her chest. “Get out and don’t come back until I’m ready. I mean it Harry, if there is any chance for us to save this, then you need to give me space.”

She didn’t give him a chance to respond as she headed for the door, grabbing her coat and bag on her way out the door. She didn’t pause to put on shoes, simply scooping them up as she walked out barefoot.

Author's Note: I am so sorry for this one but I had to put them through this to make Fine Line

NEXT CHAPTER - coming soon

OR CONTINUE READING ON AO3

#skyfire fic #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #dad!tony #step dad steve rogers #harry styles angst #aurora stark #aurora styles #nial horan fanfic #zayn fanfic #husband harry styles