#dragonslayer!reader
Text
𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - 𝐅!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐒𝐮𝐛!𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐫𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐢𝐧
Dragonslayer Ornstein whose poise and intimidating nature masks a rather... submissive side.
Dragonslayer Ornstein who keeps mum about the dynamics of your relationship and would rather the rest of Anor Londo make assumptions. And assumptions they make.
Dragonslayer Ornstein who, thanks to you, has found out that he quite likes it when you take control and... and you command him. Oh gods...
Dragonslayer Ornstein who is the picture of corrupted delight as your every caress turns him into a needy whore. Gods he needed this. It took the stress off an otherwise demanding job.
Dragonslayer Ornstein who loves it when you frustrate him by making him beg. You've been edging him for the better part of about ten minutes now and the fun hasn't even started yet.
Dragonslayer Ornstein who is so beautiful in his wanting. He thinks it so unseemly and unbecoming of his status when he becomes lost in the pleasure, eyes hazy and whimpers and groans falling from his lips. Duties and status be damned but you'll do everything in your power to draw more pleasure from him.
Dragonslayer Ornstein who bites his lip to keep from screaming (and letting all of Anor Londo hear him) as you grasp his hair and keep him in place as you savagely fuck him. He didn't know he enjoyed your ministrations until he buried his head between your legs and you rode your orgasm out on his face.
Dragonslayer Ornstein who whimpers when you grab his head and make him look at you as he's about to cum. And he's such a good obedient knight for you. You always make him come hard.
Dragonslayer Ornstein who yearns for more even as he's spent and overstimulated and you indulge him. You indulge him every time.
Just Dragonslaying things...
#request fill.#dragonslayer ornstein#dark souls#dragonslayer ornstein x reader#dark souls x reader#eldensoulsborne#nsfw.#f!reader
111 notes
·
View notes
Text
find me
inspired by the song: (superman) by Eminem
word count: 1054
(random song lyrics placed in this)
“Find her.”
His voice rang throughout the guild hall. Laxus was upstairs talking to a member of the guild.
“Excuse me?”
“Are you deaf? I said find her,” Laxus answers sarcastically.
“Find who? Your imaginary lover?” You scoff, arching a brow at the overly-confident man.
“If she were imaginary, then I wouldn’t have felt her slick, spotless body in my hands.”
“Are you sure you weren’t dreaming?”
The two of you continue gnawing at each other’s throats as Mirajane explains the situation to the curious people downstairs.
“What is he ordering about now?” Natsu grumbled.
Mirajane giggled. “Haven’t you heard? Apparently he had a one night stand with this woman and now he’s desperate to find her again.”
“Honestly, he’s such a player. He’s going to want her one day, then he’ll lose feelings and throw her away as if trash.” Erza rolls her eyes, overhearing the conversation.
“You never know,” says Mirajane. “Maybe it’s his soulmate.”
“You actually believe in those things?” Lucy asks.
“Of course! It makes me have hope that it’ll find someone!” Mirajane grins, her eyes full of hope.
Why now. Out of all the girls he slept with, why does he want me to find a girl now? And most importantly, why the hell is that girl me?
It was an accident. You had never―and by never, you absolutely meant that not for a minute―thought the first time drinking would also be your first time hooking up with the person you hate the absolute most.
Your face was beet red as you hurried out of the guild, accidently bumping into random strangers along the way. You were too nervous and shocked to even register anything.
How would you explain to the guy who had major anger issues that you accidently slept with him. Worse, you practically see him every day, except the days where you hole up in your room.
I’m doomed. He’s master’s grandson and I bet he’ll kick me out of the guild. I can’t go back now and confess that I slept with him.
“I have no other choice,” you mumble, attracting strange looks from passersby's. “I’ll find someone who looks similar to me and I’ll bring her to Laxus.”
With your (H/C) and (S/C), it wasn’t very difficult finding someone who looked like you. The only difference was the voice and the eye color, but that could be fixed, right?
“Let me get this straight, you want me to pretend to be you?” The random stranger―apparently she was called Amia―repeated.
“Yes, I’m so sorry but please help me with this. It’s a huge favor,” with you practically begging, Amia had no choice but accept.
“So, I go with you to the guild tomorrow?” She questioned.
“Nope, today. Actually, let’s go right now!” you exclaimed, grabbing her wrist and tugging her over to the guild.
Eyes were on the both of you as you entered the guild, dragging a girl by the wrist.
“LAXUS!” you yelled and the golden haired man peered his head over the railings of the upper floor. Raising the girl’s hand, you proudly grinned, “Found your little girl.”
Laxus arched a brow and smirked. “Is that so?”
“Of course, with my tracking skills, no one can escape.” So proud you were, and also oh so dumb. How didn’t you see the unconvincing look he shot you. How stupid.
Laxus studied the girl behind you. Realizing you were still holding her wrist, you quickly let go. You weren’t used to human contacts. Amia ducked her head under his unwavering gaze.
Deciding your role was done, you wanted to walk away until a warm grip was on your wrist.
“Where are you going?” Laxus’s eyes flickered over to you
“Where else? To my friends,” you jabbed your thumb over to Mirajane, who was happily talking to Lucy and Natsu before you came in and disrupted the talking.
Laxus leaned in close, his mouth inches away from your ear. He whistled and whispered, “I don’t think so.” His breath warmed your ear, which you never noticed was cold. You shivered and took a step backward. Your face held all your emotions and Laxus knew.
“You really think you can trick me with this little lady here?” His eyes glared into yours.
Run.
Leave.
It was what your instincts were telling you, yet you never moved an inch from your spot. It was as if your feet was glued to the ground. Your breathing became more noticeable and your heart started to speed up.
“What...do you mean?” Pretending not to understand was extremely stupid of you. How much dumber could you get?
“I know everything that happened that night. Don’t try to deceive me, Y/N.” Laxus said, this time louder. Perhaps he was trying to embarrass you in front of your guildmates, could they still be called guildmates now? Everything was now done and nothing could be returned how it used to be. Now they know you had a one night stand with Laxus, it was over. You were going to be thrown out and you were sure of it.
You heard several gasps, the loudest and most noticeable being Mirajane. Your face was now beet red. The thing you hated was attention centered on you, and now the greatest thing you hate was happening to you. Good lord could anything get any worse?
“Alright, I admit. It was me, but I swear on my name that I was drunk and it was never on purpose. I have a very bad alcohol tolerance,” sighing, you admit your defeat. No point in hiding it anymore when it already leaked out.
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ YOU KNOW YOU WANT ME, BABY
“Hah,” Laxus sneered. “Caught you.”
“It’s no secret now.”
“Then I guess this isn’t a secret anymore too.”
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈ I THINK I WANT YOU TOO
Warmness. On your lips. You opened your eyes to see Laxus’s face pressed against yours, lips connected with yours.
Oh. My. Shit.
He tugged away and smirked at your shocked appearance. His friends were cheering for him while half the guild stood in shock. Mirajane was the first t recover and she clapped in congratulations. Soon, the whole guild―even master―was clapping.
“What the hell Laxus,” you semi-whispered to him. His eyes stared down at you, trailing from top to bottom before he shrugged.
“I guess I just loved the way you felt in my arms”
#fairy tail#anime#anime fairy tail#laxus x reader#ft laxus#laxus dreyar#mirajane strauss#slay#dragonslayer#natsu#fairy tail natsu#fairy tail lucy
372 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝟏𝟔 | 𝐇𝐞𝐦 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬
ー✧ prince!bakugou x royal guard!reader
"This is so much worse than fury, and you rip your hand away from his to take a step back. You didn’t mean to. Bakugou stares like a dragonslayer, heartbroken."
cw blatantly suggestive, an accidental kiss and the panic that follows. bkg doesn't know why he's been looking for you. you couldn't be angry about it if you tried. laughter, bite marks, magic, a warm hiding spot. 8.1k
PREV | M.LIST | TAGLIST | NEXT
A slap across the face and the spatter of blood that follows in an arc across fine rugs. Bakugou bleeds when he tries not to think of you. You are too easy to be with and too difficult to find.
Your prince and fragments of rehearsal fineries that you would beam at if you appeared in this frigid foyer– which he knows only because you’ve done nothing but smile at him for seven cursed days– storms towards warmer hallways. There’s nothing for it but to track you down. He wakes up and you are not outside his door. He eats and meets and eats again and you do not materialize behind him or emerge from shadowed corners to brandish a weapon when unpleasant lords are unpleasant. Are you still following orders or are you finally sick of him?
Bakugou pretends he is not walking quickly. A maid has pointed him in your direction. The waitstaff here has no particular affinity for either of you, so they’ve tried their hardest to answer his questions this week and be rid of Alderans for the day. After all, once he finds you he doesn’t bother anyone else until dawn.
Find is a strong word, the maid thinks as she chews a dry lip. You don’t seem to be hiding from him.
It's the busiest morning, second only to tomorrow’s actual ball, and Bakugou has spent the whole of it in dress fittings and board meetings and appetizer tastings. He was meant to rehearse the first waltz with Fuyumi but for four days in a row she’s had her hands full with final adjustments to royal rosters and seating arrangements. The king is home afterall. And he does not dote on his daughter.
Bakugou turns up a second staircase once he arrives in the center castle and barks at a guard, stationed and startled, in the doorway where he emerges. Shinsou clutches his chest and stares at the imposing prince, heavy but silent.
“Boo. You seen my captain?” Bakugou only half-waits for a response from the apprentice before following his intuition to the left. You like to hide in odd places.
“Yeah,” Shinsou breathes and finds his position again, “carrying her lunch to the catwalks.”
Bakugou grins and hopes you can feel him wherever you are, rolling his eyes.
She was in common clothes– I think, headed towards the throne room.
Haven’t seen her, sir.
Your Alderan? It’s freezing, she should request a jacket from the supply corps.
Five days ago he found you rehousing spiders in the rafters of the greenhouse much to the chagrin of delicate flowers. Two days ago he finally spotted you among a dozen soldiers all helping the blacksmith resilver the inlay of the soldier quarter’s door. Yes, he’d told you to leave his babysitting to Kirishima but he didn’t expect you to listen.
Yesterday, Bakugou caught you wandering through the ninth-story walkways, the walkways sculpted onto the side of the castle like wasp nests where the archers hide. Your fingers gripped the hem of your padded tunic, red with cold, and your back pressed flat to the white castle marble even as you craned to gaze the city and sea over the edge of the balustrade.
Your prince almost screamed when he glanced out one of ten thousand pale windows in his search when instead of the depressing gray sky, it was your braids whipping in the wind outside, several stories higher in the air than he would have liked you.
“Eyes!” He jerked the window open and stuck out his head.
“The marble is too smooth Highness, please stay inside.”
White pointelle curtains rattled on their rods with the ferocity of the afternoon wind. “Come now,” he’d barked. He swallowed a roar to keep from startling you off the wall. You turned from the view towards his outstretched hand and half a golden body out the little window, and smiled.
You smiled from the cobwebs when he asked you what the fuck you were doing in blue begonias. You smiled at him among the crowd when he mimed flexing from the gallery to mock the blacksmith. You smiled when he caught you practicing sword forms for bored children and again when he and Kirishima joined in. You smiled without thought and he warmed at the sight of it. He laughed.
He laughed when the florist shrieked over a clutch of spider eggs and he laughed when you hammered Aizawa’s door crooked in your distraction. He laughed when Kaminari tried to teach you to juggle apples in potion storage, and very softly he laughed when he found you asleep beside proofing ovens.
The castle’s vanity seeps into every orifice, it bleeds from the seamless walls and into seed-sized crannies. Family portraits, royal crests, kingdom’s colors, wards against death written in old Takoban like they think this is the only kingdom on the continent where people might live forever. Superstition and agitation nick the Alderan like thorns through cold blue hallways. He itches for forests. On the third floor of the East Wing there is a great open gallery. It presides over the grand staircase of the castle’s entrance so that an invading army couldn’t so much as piss over the threshold before the legion of soldiers that fit upstairs fired off their arrows.
It was only a matter of time before you found yourself a roost here, warmaster.
He knows where you are. He can hear the king shouting from an open door downstairs and crosses the entrance gallery, bathed in warm sunlight from its volley of windows. It takes him exactly as long to walk it as it takes stained glass heat to pink his shoulders and with a perfect golden hue he dips under a doorway to find you perched at the lip of a ledge. You’re always about to fucking fall off something.
You sit cross-legged behind a black railing, picking at the cup of fruit beside you. Your hair is getting longer, wilder, and your braids tumble with white ribbons as you follow the scene below. Two stories below the ballroom is awash in afternoon light and hundreds of potential floral arrangements with the king dead in the middle, roaring at artisans. Prince Natsuo is slightly behind him and his neck is an agitated red. You pop a berry in your mouth.
You were always going to love the catwalks– the thin system above important rooms that servants use to gauge crowds and light the tall candles. All of tomorrow it’ll be crawling with footmen and today it looks like it’s already been dusted in preparation, although it’s not meant to be seen. You sit comfortably in its shadows and watch.
Tension melts from his veins when he finds you and nothing replaces it, so Bakugou isn’t quite sure what he’s thinking when he slips inside to be closer. Jeanist taught him too, he can be quiet. You wipe juice from your lip with your thumbs and polish it with a lick. Your fingertips are purple. You run them through your hair to push the braids behind your shoulders and focus again on the agitated king and his crying arachnophobic florists.
“You stare like the best of ‘em,” Bakugou whispers as he drops behind you and cups a hand over your mouth in case you make a startled sound, although, you react before he actually finishes the thought or announces himself, and jerk forward to catch his gentle hand with your teeth.
King, prince, artisan, maids, seagulls, and dustbunnies pause their meeting to agree that a grunt did in fact come from the chandeliers and that they aren’t insane, before continuing their jury over the fate of the party decorations. A whiff of caramel is the only thing that keeps you from breaking the hand with your bite and just as quickly as you attempt to reveal the intruder through pain, you swing your arm around to cover the prince’s mouth before he gives away your position with a yelp or fireblast. The momentum flattens you both.
Maybe one day Bakugou will remember that you are filled with the same fire that he is, before trying to bother you. When did the urge to bother you even occur to him? Both of you, square on your backs to hide properly in shadows, are close enough for your hand to still be firmly planted over his face like a muzzle. He smiles first this time. You smell like blackberries.
Your prince wires his jaw shut when he laughs in the shadows to keep from kissing your palm. In the seconds that the king and his entourage fall silent, Bakugou can only just barely contain huffs from his nostrils and the wet at the corners of his eyes. You stare like always and he must have melted fast enough because horror and apologies haven’t tumbled out of you yet. His dragon’s nails have gotten longer. Loose and wild hairs frame the face he only ever knew as perfectly kempt and unreadable. He cannot stop finding new things to notice here on the itchy rug beside you and he’s grateful you have only covered his mouth because his firebrand eyes gleam when you succumb to your own smile. Immediately you hide it behind your own free hand to stay quiet and the pair of you swallow stupid mirth in the dark.
Where did his anger go? “Ow,” the prince rasps when he’s collected himself and pulls your hand into his.
“Excuse me, Highness,” you whisper back. Your smile still rattles him like a blow to the side of the head. What the fuck is it about you that makes his pulse drum? Bakugou rolls onto his back. If you were sick of him you probably wouldn’t lay so close.
He tilts his gaze back to you, “What are you doing up here?”
Watching, you mouth like you’re signaling him to shut up. You pull your hand away from his and look over your shoulder towards the ledge where roars and curses roll up from the king like crashing waves.
“Why?”
It’s as close as Bakugou has ever seen you come to rolling your eyes. You blink at him and press forward. Something horribly soft started to grow the night you helped him carry drunk friends to bed. Something like rot. It eats away at the strongest parts of him, the parts of him that are poised and beautiful and ready for war. It’s eating you too. The strongest parts of you that are silent and obedient and deadly.
You drag your body across the floor to be closer to him– so much closer– so close that your thigh practically drapes over his and you cup your hand to his ear so you can whisper an answer that he can’t even focus long enough to hear. Maybe the rot started earlier. Maybe he should never have picked a fight with you.
A sudden scream flies up from the ballroom and Bakugou reacts before you do, less to offer protection and more because he knows you’ll launch right off the walkway if he doesn’t hold you down, but still his hold is protective when the scream is followed by a pillar of white orange fire that flies high and soots crystals in the chandelier. It’s brief and scalding like a geyser and you are not strong enough to protest your prince tucking all of you under his chest in the interim. You smell like home, like forests like moss. The scent of the sea is finally falling out of your hair.
“In what world is this my responsibility?” the king seethes. His drop in volume is menacing and it echoes violently in the empty room, “pick your own fucking flowers, I have work to do.”
The ballroom doors are not meant to be closed or opened with such force and they scream louder than he can when he burns his way through, leaving the prince and his artisans in the cold and terrible hall. A ball in Takoba is an oxymoron. A malicious idea. Bakugou leans back on his arm to release you and sits up to watch Natsuo console his workers. The eldest Takoban prince wears patience well. Whose idea was this party? The same person who sent for Enji? Belligerent. Bakugou hasn’t seen the queen in weeks.
He grumbles before he turns to look at you, “Missed what you said.” But when he does finally look, you are so much Alderan that the cold of Takoba falls off his shoulders like frost. Maybe that’s why he’s been searching for you. The fire that only a life in his castle could stoke, ravages the blacks of your eyes. Even though you are silent, he knows what you’re thinking.
“Down girl,” he grins and kicks his legs out from under him to settle more comfortably. Flowers below are picked in whispered consensus and the room empties under your glare. The sun has started to set. The far wall of the ballroom is, in classic Takoban fashion, one long series of windows taller than most houses and the sea shines behind it in a trick of rolling warm shapes like smoke from a fireplace. You both linger at the edge of the shadows up on high. Bakugou watches you shamelessly.
“I will not attack the king.”
“Who’re you trying to convince?”
You think for a few seconds and turn to him with an awkwardly soft look that crackles into a smile too easily for you to be the same girl who grew up learning how to kill in his castle. Everything you do but fight is bizarre. Like blue fire, he cannot make himself look away from you.
“What’ll you do at the ball?”
“What do you mean?” The ballroom is empty so there’s no need to whisper but neither of you know how to talk to the other.
Bakugou cocks his head and doesn’t need to hope you know when he rolls his eyes anymore because he can finally do it in front of you. He crosses his arms, “Do you dance? I can’t think of anything else to keep you distracted enough to avoid assassination.”
But you are already distracted by something and he can see the moment you stop listening to him talk. All the better, he thinks. He might have just asked you to dance with him.
“Your hand Highness, I– mers–” and you reach forward to take up his bitten fist like touching him is suddenly the easiest thing in the world. Your fingertips are ice-cold. The rot spreads. “You startled me, I’m so sorry.”
Now Bakugou isn’t listening. You rub at the divots your teeth left in the side of his palm and press them like imperfections in pie dough. Your hands are so much more slender than his. So much rougher. Do you feel it too? The death of fury? How the ocean slowly laps at the bonfire until wood can no longer fight back? Do you remember the library like he does? He wants more than anything to sit in a nook and read for a thousand years in recovery from this trip. Is it a safe place for you, or has he ruined it? Do you miss home like he does? Or has he ruined that too?
“No. I’m sorry,” he admits before thinking. He startled you after all, but immediately he is silent with realization; breath holds in his lungs. Fuck, that’s not– you asked him so clearly not to do that. Is he incapable of leaving you with anything? You watch his fingers twitch for a moment like you can feel his heartbeat there and then look up at him and stare. He’s not sorry for sneaking up on you at all. That’s not what he meant.
Eyes was an apt nickname, if not a little mean. Bakugou has never envied telepaths before. How ignorant he was, to think of you as the bloody little girl in a velvet carriage. You hold his hand now with just as much strength as you did all those years ago; obviously it was strength and not desperation. You did not hang laundry to thank him. You did not catch fruit to thank him. You didn’t learn to fight the rain or windows or soldiers or the sea for your prince. It was only him, making magic for you.
“Never thought I’d hear a sheep apologize to the sheepdog.”
He startles a little, just a slight widening of his eyes, because you hold his hand up to see the ring of teeth clearly and cover your chuckle with the tips of your fingers.
“Callin me a sheep?”
“You are biteable like one.”
Do you know what you’re doing? Bakugou wonders as his own smile escapes the confines of horror. He snatches his hand back and leans against the black iron railing to face you. Quick wit, quicker draw, why do you hide such pleasant things under such a ferocious– the Alderan blinks and his face falls for half a second again in realization.
You blink back because you cannot read his mind, “Are you okay, sir?”
The same fire. If he stopped and thought for a single fucking second you wouldn’t have been the enigma protecting his home. You would have been a girl that he wanted very much, to talk to in his ceaseless boredom. He melts into a smile again and this time his teeth glint, “Don’t call me that.”
Winter really has arrived; the sun sets faster with each second and soon the ballroom below is a great orange pool. He was meant to rehearse the opening waltz today and the thought of you watching him, concealed, makes his ears hot. Florals drift up and up from their vases where they’re warmed in afternoon light.
You cross your legs and turn too, so that the prince isn’t just staring at a profile. “Are you looking forward to it?”
“To what?”
“The ball, Highness. Are they fun?”
“You’ve attended balls,” he grunts and scans his memory for the last party thrown in Aldera, although you don’t appear in the pictures his brain conjures up. “They’re fine. Loud.”
You nod. There are ten-thousand things he could think to ask you and a hundred more questions he knows that the answers will spur but sitting beside you in the dark without a threat to either of your lives is new and overwhelming. Your wild hair makes wild shapes.
“Fuyumi wants to dress you up.”
You don’t find that as funny as he does and you’re gawking when you turn from the view of the ballroom to look at him. He thinks you aren’t afraid of him– he hopes– but he knows you still won’t say what you long to for fear of sounding unprofessional. He’ll have to work on that.
“She gave up on Ochako years ago.”
“Is it a gown?”
“Takoban,” he rests his head on the metal too, enjoying all the scandalized expressions your pretty lips make, “frilly lace, the works.”
You consider this for a moment and make the shape of his name before swallowing it. One more time, “I see.” And you turn back away to think some more, about how to phrase something unprofessional. He’s teasing, he hasn’t seen the damn thing but for a moment your prince can see you so clearly, sewn tight into a dress made of sealace. You try to speak again, fail, and lean closer. Your breath is sweet from fruit and your bowl is empty behind you.
“I can’t wear blue for another second, Highness, I’ll hurl the tailor into the sea.”
Bakugou spits over the railing in amusement and huffs, a subdued panic, when he crosses his arms again.
“Highness please,” you chuckle, “I’ll get violent,” and you smile under the frown, which just serves to make you look even more like a dragon– like you’ll make good on your word– and less like an obedient footsoldier. How do you do it? What are you doing to him? Bakugou can only stare with a rough affection because if he tried to speak right now something might come out.
You run a hand back through your braids to settle them where you like them to lay. It’s draconic, regal, every way you sit perch and glare from the clearest part of any room. His mother calls it King’s Corner, or the Seat of the Queen, that perfect spot where you can see everything important without showing your back to a soul. That’s always where he finds you. That’s your secret. He pinches an ear between his knuckles to try and cool it down.
“Takoba’s lucky you aren’t a mage,” he manages. He has to look away to say it but he does manage, “should thank you for it.”
“I did try,” you don’t need to manage back. Proximity to him isn’t eating you alive. “And I don’t work for thank yous, thank you very much.”
When Bakugou was ten years old he celebrated his birthday in a parlor with boughs of cherry blossoms and sweets for which he never really had an appetite. He was doted on and he worked hard to deserve it so that anything he wanted to do that day, and any birthday thereafter, was his. You were not celebrated with cake. He wouldn’t know until years later that his mother brought you gifts and good food on your birthday because he could find you every day of the year at work somewhere in his castle. You did not fall ill, you did not fail, and on his birthday you, nine years old, practiced forms in the paths between spring orchards just downwind from the parlor. Jeanist was seated inside with him among the family’s guests. No appetite for cake. Bakugou only celebrated ten birthdays and you have never stopped breaking his heart.
“Tried what?”
You ruffle your own hair so you don’t have to look at him either because at least one thing embarrasses you. “Magic.”
“Magic.”
“It’s not funny,” you chirp at his flat tone and round on him with your legs crossed. He leans back when your voice comes out a bit louder than expected and his bitten fist aches when it clenches. “I would copy you.”
The rot makes him weak and useless and susceptible to your stare, but the rot makes you fearless.
“I used to watch you studying– when we were really little– when we were both supposed to be eating with everyone in the Hall. You used to,” you look briefly to your side like someone important might be watching you acting so casually and it dims that fire he needs in your eyes.
“Used to what?” he smiles. He knows you watched him, you must know that too. Finish, please finish your story, he wants to hear your voice tell you more about home.
“Used to watch you flail your chubby arms until sparks came out.”
When Bakugou laughs this time he tries not to hold anything back, if only just to douse you in oil and keep the fire alight. Fucking please, just talk.
“I used to try every night too!–” you laugh, slightly louder, “– wind up my arms tight and spin around my room after curfew– disturb the horses– pretend to be a dragon.”
“Your runty prince looked like a dragon?”
You grin, “My runty prince taught himself magic, didn’t he? What’s wrong with wanting to breathe a little fire?”
“I don’t breathe fire, dumbass.”
“You still make miracles. Ever seen a dragon?”
“Of course I have.”
“Have you ever sheltered from a spray of ethereal flames?”
He frowns and smirks, confused, as if to ask, why have you? And the flint tinder in the bright part of your eyes sparks white hot.
“Melting, crushing, it’s completely inescapable without a barrier mage,” you pull your knee up with a bit of theatrics and lean because with everything inside of you except for actual realization, you want him to listen too. “Pink and red, blue, green golden and white hot. Highness, has no one ever told you how beautiful your magic is? You make magic like a dragon, who wouldn’t want a blessing like that?”
No one would want this cursed fucking magic that prickles his palms with sweat in the dark for no other reason than because you are looking at him, when all he wanted was– he just wanted to see you– watch you, he didn’t need you to watch him back and now the fire of Aldera he keeps trying to warm beside will blast him all the way to the wick. This is the flattery he hears so much about from his blushing mother.
“‘s not special. My magic maims people.”
“So do I.”
He frowns deeper, “Not the same.”
“I worked hard to maim people, it’s not the same because what I do isn’t beautiful.”
“That’s not–” he doesn’t think that. Don’t think that he thinks that, “–work isn’t beautiful. War isn’t beautiful.”
“You’ve never seen war. Highness you make–”
“Fuck off,” he tosses at you like it’s ever worked before.
“I won’t.”
“Eyes–”
“– it’s beautiful.”
“I make bombs.”
“You make starfall.”
Bakugou stares. Rough affection, yeah right, he’s melting.
You fall back on your hips when you realize you’ve broken clear through the confines of professionalism and the embarrassment sets in quickly. Eyes dart sideways, chest and knees turn. Your embarrassment is a subtle grip on fraying rugs. What do you do to your heart to make it pull so strong in every direction? Is it a spell? One that makes him quiet and happy to wait for his silent guard to speak again. This must be how the queen feels. You turn fully back to the rising orange light of the ballroom below and your lips part before any words are actually ready to come out.
The first time you try to speak, he doesn’t hear you. Bakugou traces the path between your shiny scars with his gaze. One below your ear to the one at your eyebrow and down again, past an old cut in your cheek. You couldn’t douse the forest fire behind those lashes if you tried. Not under orders or oath. Not from embarrassment.
“What does it feel like?” You whisper, looking a great distance down past abandoned flowers.
Both of you have fallen closer to each other in the waves of your nothing conversation, so much so that your shoulders would press together if the rot just ate away a little bit more. Bakugou’s heart sinks into the ballroom. It plummets like a drowned man.
“Gimme your hand.”
This is a fucking mistake, but all your prince can see is the last time pure joy ever sailed across your face in an evening spent around your wonderful campfire. He caused and extinguished it with one spark thrown into your cupped palms, the last time you ever tried to make magic. “I won’t hurt you,” he rumbles even though it kills him to look at you now.
Your side of the catwalk begins to glow at the lips because the sun has set far enough to climb walls towards the ceiling. You glow with it. Pink in a thousand places, ears and throat, lips, because you’re thinking too hard about what it is to be a proper guard and how much it is probably not raising your voice to delight in magic that does not belong to you. The corners of your mouth tremble. Who was it that told you you talk too much?
“Is that an order?”
“No.” Of course not.
You study the details of the itchy rug for too long, in the new light at its edge. Bakugou used to hate hiding up here in the cold but it was the only place the idiot children his mother sent him here to entertain couldn’t find him. He couldn’t be happier now, now that no one but you can see just how hard he flounders without fury.
Your hips swivel back towards him in precise decision then you fold your knees neatly underneath them to get closer. A few white ribbons in your hair seem to catch fire as the sunlight climbs higher and the sun dips lower out an infinite distance. Every mile it is far, is a mile Bakugou can feel in measures of chill. If Aldera is at the center of the world, Takoba is the outer edge and you remind him just how blessed he is when his hand melts at your Alderan touch. You reach and pull both his fists into the space between your bodies from where they lingered in the air.
“Yes sir.”
“Don’t,” he breathes, watching all the shapes your fingers can make together. He’s a prince, this is ridiculous. He sits up tall and stretches his arms out so you don’t need to reach so far, and makes a safe place for your strong fingers, those calluses and scars, to rest atop his open palms.
“Don’t call me sir.”
You are looking at him and considering something about his face, or his words, who knows– one of your eyebrows twitches in decision. It’s remarkable how steady your heads are. You are sure of everything you do even when it’s destructive and disruptive and punishable by death.
Laid out plainly like this and stiller than either of you have ever been together, your fingers and wrists, your palms, even your fingernails are so much more delicate than his. Like if he closed his golden fists, you’d disappear. Compared to the princess you have the hands of a farmer, but not a single thought– past how each other part of your body might look beside his– is allowed to rattle through his head when you watch him, straight ahead, and smile.
“Okay.”
He clears his throat. He’s a mage and magic is easy. He’s not going to set off the sweat on the back of his neck. “Don’t be nervous,” Bakugou grumbles to the dark.
You grin and ghost a thumb over the warmth and damp of his open palm, “Who are you trying to convince?”
“It’s this stupid fucking magic,” he bites. A bead of sweat drips through his knuckles onto the floor and if he’s not careful he might take out half the castle. Prince and apprentice assassinate world’s most fucked up royal family– he can already see the dossier sitting pretty on his mother’s desk.
You’re suddenly in a wonderful mood and you sit up slightly at the beginnings of warmth under your fingertips. He can hear your knees squeak and count your heartbeats in the veins of your wrist that his own fingertips reach. Those eyes again– always your eyes. They’re colored like any normal pair anyone might ever see but he’s one of few people who watch the dragons. You must have watched them too, too long, for your gaze to become so similar.
It feels like any other second of Bakugou’s life. Setting fire to own hands and measuring the strength of his magic in reds and whites. It’s an ordinary moment for many whole seconds until your prince follows the beginnings of light up from his palms, to your starving and unabashed awe. The sparks bubble up as hungry fish would in a pond, and then jump, spit, between your fingers like cooking oil. Your touch is so gentle at first. You train and measure your own skill every day so that Jeanist’s recruits don’t lose varied limbs, but as your excitement wells up you spill a bit from your seams. You rise slightly higher and give him more weight to hold and your prince dissolves into a smile.
Four hands rest inside one another and fire from the dragons illuminates your hiding place.
“Highness,” you whisper and startle a thousand times at every new color Bakugou ignites between your fingers. You’re fully up on your knees now having risen higher and higher to watch his magic as best you can and Bakugou sits on the floor beneath you, rotting.
“Highness what,” he whispers back.
You abandon the thought and jump when a green sparkler squeals through the air between you, and when your prince thinks to pull away your fingers are already wrapped tight around every part of him you can manage. He could have done this for you a thousand times; your joy was always this simple, raw, and unjealous. Purple and gold soar across the highs of your cheeks and hug your jaw. It’s all he can bear, to love this smile and to know that his sweat is plastered across your hands and soaked through the cuff of your sleeves, and so he freezes with the realization and embarrassment and with your last words.
“Highness, thank you.”
He doesn’t have the wherewithal to speak yet. The smile he loves. The magic dies with his concentration and as the sun finally crests your walkway for its fleeting moments of warmth, Bakugou tries to muster something like confidence because you’re looking at him with a softness he didn’t realize you had. Is it overwhelming because he knows you could kill him? Maybe it’s because he’s never wanted to kiss anyone before.
Bakugou’s pomegranate eyes dart up to you, saying goodbye to the last of the light and something like sugar scalds his throat. That new thought is fleeting because your golden prince drains the life from it like a butchered animal– gods, can’t he leave you with anything?
“Told you I don’t bite,” he grins and swallows the last selfish thought to death, “that’s your job right?”
You beam before bursting into deep and hungry laughter in the sun-soaked air above him. Whatever. Bakugou supports you as you cling to his arms and struggle to stay upright in your laughter. You’re overflowing. He smiles and huffs, he can’t help that. He can’t help goosebumps either but you don’t need to know about those and he’ll never utter a word. He still needs to meet the dressmaker for alterations and finalize the appetizers, and make sure the kitchens send dinner to your door.
“Highness,” you breathe like a bird and try to collect yourself enough to stop laughing. You plop back onto your hips, “Highness–”
“Highness Highness,” he taunts. The sound of it will make his ears bleed. Bakugou palms for a handkerchief with one hand and lets you hold his other. You cling to the bite you left there. Your legs overlap. “This is ridiculous,” he chuckles when your joy almost folds you in half, “A real joke might kill you.”
“Let it,” you breathe, canines twinkling, and dip slightly closer, laughing, to press your lips to his.
It’s so easy, you don’t mean to. You are lightheaded in the warmth of the sunset, magic trembles across your sensitive skin and you only want to be closer. Just close enough to bury yourself in that place that is so safe and that fills you with such a horrible comfortable joy–
As Bakugou reaches inside his tunic for something you lean too close. Your chest falls over his lap before either of you remembers that it shouldn’t be like this, that there are a thousand other places your prince belongs and ten thousand rules you have engraved on the meat of your skull to keep comfort at bay. It’s so warm with your eyes closed and his smile tastes like cinnamon. He doesn’t pull away.
You only realize what’s happened after that smile falls dead against your lips. Venom and rage betray a soft exterior. He’s soft against your touch. He’s soft like he’s never fought a day in his life. Your hands hold his beautiful golden head right where you need it and in the quiet, your eyes open to blinding and beautiful sunlight.
A touch is all you wanted, gods know why– they’ll never tell you– and you draw your chin back an inch to breathe. Bakugou is staring violently and his eyes are more like targets now than cherry pits. Eyebrows wider, higher, than the sky, he stares like his heart has stopped. What happened? He doesn’t look like anyone but himself anymore. You freeze.
Prince Bakugou is staring at you until he’s not, on the itchy rug in the sunset of the great black catwalks, until his eyes close and he kisses you back. Soft, closed lips brush so hot they’ll leave a mark, they’ll brand you and everyone will know what you did. The doom spreads quickly. You have never been so graceless in your life as you are now, falling backwards out of his warmth and stumbling onto your feet. He’s still on the ground and you only know he is holding you because sweat drips from the fingers of yours that he clutches.
“Wait,” he gasps. This is so much worse than fury, and you rip your hand away from his to take a step back. You didn’t mean to. Bakugou stares like a dragonslayer, heartbroken.
You run. Before you can breathe or be reasoned with, before you hear him call your name, you turn and dash through the back doorway alone. If this were Aldera, where would you hide? The frozen air of the seashell castle whispers straight through your flesh as you, sprinting, stumble your way past the castle’s vanity. There is a nook in the wall of the principal staircase where only Jeanist can find you. There is a seat on a high window in the Great Hall that you can reach with a library ladder. There are two tiny battlements in the east corner of your queen’s castle without a real way to get inside and on any day but a lightning storm, you can wedge a hunting knife in loose mortar and climb the masonry over its edge to lay and nap and stargaze at the tallest point of the most beautiful kingdom. An ant couldn’t hide in Takoba. There’s not one dark seam for the bugs.
A guard barely moves in time to avoid being crushed under your boots because fuck this horrible waterlogged place. The ocean drips out of your ears like tears from a seashell, drop by drop because you picked a fight with the goddess and thought yourself lucky to live before you realized she had made a home for herself inside your heart. Now you laugh with your prince and you touch him happily and you spar with him and hold nothing back and you tell him how much his magic helped you to live.
Resisting the urge to kill him, fighting to win Mitsuki’s favor, the threat of blue fire and a mage you doused in the sea, it was all so much easier than this. It could have been that easy forever, what were you thinking?
“Y/n!”
You weren’t, that’s what being too content gets you.
When Bakugou calls your name again his voice cracks because you are so much faster than he is at slipping through corridors. There is nowhere to hide in this awful country. Why are you running? If you were just slightly calmer you might have known where you were but white windows will always look like white windows and Bakugou is not so slow that you can ever really outrun him.
You duck under a low wall and its hanging tapestry and emerge on the other side at the edge of a stretch of empty hall. Setting sunlight pours past ten silver vases and someone left a window open, so lace curtains flow around a pedestal with its silvery prize in the center.
“Y/n, please.”
Agony. This isn’t what you want. When Bakugou calls to you one last time you have no choice but to face him because he has never asked for anything before, and when you do, tears drip off the highest parts of your cheeks.
He lets the tapestry fall over his shoulder and stops at the front of the long, long room. Neither of you speak for an eternity besides the sound of breath being caught again, him at the edge and you in the center being swayed by cold air. His shaggy hair has been pushed back too many times in his rush to follow you and his eyes glow unobstructed. Bakugou’s broad shoulders fit too perfectly into his baubled tunic. It’s easier to watch him than to think.
When he leans forward, you step back, and he pauses like you might start sprinting again.
He doesn’t realize there’s something rotten stuck in the depths of your throat that keeps you from straying too far.
“I–”
“Don’t be sorry,” he begs, reading your mind. He’s never looked like this once in his whole life. He fell a step closer in his panic and when you do not run, his fists unclench from where they draw blood at his sides. “Don’t cry.”
You shake your head and he cautions another step. How can you ever go home now? How much longer can you survive here? The thought is suddenly and immediately overwhelming and Bakugou freezes again when you drop your head into your hands. It’s too much, you can’t believe how badly you want to hate him again and how much easier it would be than this.
“Y/n,” he whispers. His voice is candled ash. You know exactly how close he is even with your eyes closed because Alderan fire is unmistakable and you know too that he’s giving you a moment to escape.
“I didn’t mean to.”
Prince Bakugou’s magic-worn hands reach up from where he wires them and you snatch them both, and all their kiln-fired warmth, out of the air before he can touch you like you might break the first finger that moves. You don’t mean to bare your teeth either, you hope you aren’t, if you are he doesn’t care. Your prince stands above you, brows knit and eyes stupid with worry.
“Forget,” you plead in whispers.
He pulls your grip higher so that he can rest his palms under your ears. You aren’t doing anything but hanging from him. He moves easily because you do not stop him and he brushes his thumbs over stray hairs and their wild shapes. Silence is worse than his rage, but he’s trembling and his eyes never once look away from yours. He’s studying, contemplating something that continues to break his heart.
“Highness.”
Bakugou cups your jaw like it might bruise and tilts your head up just enough to kiss you. He could not care less about broken fingers.
His lips quiver and press just once to yours before pulling back, reconsidering, and dipping into you again. Your hold on his hands and his hands at your throat are melting, shaking, sweating. His chest swells above yours. You melt with him because you have lost your mind and push against the body you know can hold you. It can pull you from a current and throw you over its shoulder. Bakugou can lift you in strong arms, he can make you laugh until not even an order could compose you at your station.
You part your lips to be closer. He tangles his fingers in your braids so that you can take whatever you want. Your prince tastes like his favorite pastries, and Alderan peaches, and gold, he tastes like he’s fireproof.
Wet drips from your bottom lip in the mess of it all, before Bakugou tilts your chin in strong hands to catch what he’s missed. The slick of your tongues, a clicking of teeth, you want to eat him whole. He’s going to devour you.
He holds your face now to move you as he’d like– four feet tripping over each other to find a wall– and you grip at the patterns on his tunic between stolen breaths and steps stumbled backwards. Magic crackles where he touches you like he can’t control himself. His voice comes out with his gasps in growls because there is too much and nothing to say. You have forgotten apologies.
“Your hands” he breathes between nips for the softest warm parts of you, “cold.”
“The window–” but he kisses you again before you can finish. His hands are shaking, he is a starving dog and still he holds you like you’re going to break. You terrify him.
How long have you wanted this? There’s not enough focus left for your brain to turn its wheel and if there was you wouldn’t have pulled him so close. You suckle at his lower lip because his heartbeat tastes like home and he lets you dip inside again when you’ve had your fill. He fills you with himself in return. Wet, soft against you. It’s clumsier than sparring, and so much warmer.
At the end of cold hallways, where servants bustle and where there is still work to be done, the guard who barely survived your warpath ducks out from under the tapestry. He only wanted to check you were okay, but in the almost empty hallway Shinsou’s hand falls slack and his baton slips from it. It rings out against white marble and your heart stops beating at the same time as your prince. Your wheel groans in its new turning. The guard stares and you bristle.
You do not hear what Bakugou says in your panic but he does not let you go so easily this time. You will run, you’ll find somewhere to hide in this prison because that is your job and no one has ever done it better than you and there you will figure out what to do.
The last breath you take before darting away is shared in the sunlight with your prince, and just as you tip in a hint of escape Bakugou cups your cheeks one last time to keep you still. Your claws jump immediately back around his. He stares. His eyes are a study over every scar and warm flush, the violence of your sudden caught fear, even the parts squished and wrinkled in his hold. His magic vibrates unlit through your skin for one more second just one more second he takes to look and then he whispers,
“Okay.”
You take off the moment he releases you to deal with the apprentice and slip as best you can around a blue-tiled corner. Seedsized carvings raise their axes and little white waves fall. Sparks fight the chill on your jaw.
You forgo the seaside for fear of worrying your prince again. Manure pools around your pretty white boots because in the stables, horses don’t mind if you need to cry. The ocean swallows the last of the sun and you are suddenly a child again rinsing the blood from her face and into the hay and finding a dark place to hide. Every step is labor. Agitated white stallions complain to you in a line about their dinner and restlessness, and about chickens roosting inside uninvited, and about the woman who has sat here for hours and done nothing to help them.
The port city of Takoba shimmers at twilight under the hill that the stable looks out on. Its waters are silver and beg you to join them on all sides from their great distance. They have the advantage as you turn your back to the view.
When you amble towards the last empty stall, a figure drowning in blue is perched on a bed of straw. She is sickly beautiful and she stares like she hates everything she gazes upon.
“Majesty,” you startle and forget to take a knee.
Where you tread carefully in borrowed clothes, the Takoban Queen is happy to ruin her gown sitting up to her hips in straw beside a very plain horse. She runs a brush over the sheen of its black mane.
“Yes?” She sighs, defeated, until she turns to you and cocks her head like she might have expected someone else. Hundreds of translucent layers fall over themselves in her skirt like a flower and catch imaginary light for every inch that she moves. There is an ache so deep in your bones, chilled first then charred like dipping cold hands in hot water, you struggle to compose yourself. You cannot muster the question of why a queen might be hiding in the belly of her stables but you could guess.
“You were crying.”
“Please don’t tell Mitsuki.”
When will you be allowed to go home? The queen looks between her horse and the space you haunt above her, and pulls a second curry comb from the depths of her soft straw seat. “They’ll find you if you stand in the open like that.”
The day drags on like a dream you have made from picturebooks of Aldera and the man that you will never be free of, but queens don’t much mind if you need to cry either. You crumple into the spot she digs out for you in the straw and until it is too cold, the two of you sit quietly in shit together.
PREV | M.LIST | TAGLIST | NEXT
tagged angels ✧.* @nnubee @nonomesupposedto @kotarousproperty @sveetnn @lunrai @km7474 @cathwritestragediesnotsins @idimmadontgiveashit @kooromin @k1tk4tkatsuki @litiri @kiwibao @sarcasticlittlebook @condy-wants-a-cookie @mysticalfridge @falling4fandoms @katanaski @romiinlove @cherripunch26 @acid-rain27 @bakugouswh0r3 @zukowantshishonourback @ultracrii @chandiewashere @screechingdreameater @when-you-are-just-done @levisbae2 @flyhighinthesky @thebluespacecow @mizzfizz @butterscotch-ripple-icecream @phoenix-draws77 @ltadoriyuujl @dreamingoftomorroww @optimisticprime3 @misscaller06 @the-omnipotent-phlowr @king-dynamight @sky-angel101 @faetoraa @sageandberries-png @king-explosionmurder @aqua5ky @idkwhatisgoingon24-7 @midnightprocrastinator @animeobsessed03 @sakurarr1122
could not tag for some reason :(
#a hymn to black water#i make good on my promises#this one really took it out of me- editing was an afterthought there might be more mistakes than usual#thank you for loving these weirdos#bakugou x reader#bakugo x reader#bnha fantasy au#mha fantasy au#fantasy bakugou x reader#fantasy bakugo x reader
191 notes
·
View notes
Note
Could I please request sting x fairy tail member dragon slayer female reader please :)
Head cannons if that’s best for you, sfw/nsfw both are fine :)
Uhhh I don't typically do x reader stuff but I can try?
Being the only other female dragonslayer in Fiore naturally means that Wendy Marvell looks up to you a lot. You will have to let Sting know beforehand that he's gonna need to be at least decent with kids if he's gonna hang.
And he is, omg. Insanely good big brother energy. You should probably put a ring on that while you can, 'cause guys that the young'uns actually look forward to seeing don't come around often.
You're literally the hot person x hot person couple no matter what you actually look like.
Since Fairy Tail and Sabertooth are located in two different towns, you can't meet up often, so you make the most of when you do. Dates with Sting are all about fun and making memories, exhausting yourself doing something super interesting. It helps that he can even make mundane stuff seem really cool with his enthusiasm.
He is your hype man in all things. You do something totally normal and he's just gushing because eyyyy ain't nobody doing it like you sexy girl!!!!!
As with Wendy being your plus one, Rogue is also Sting's plus one. He doesn't come along everywhere Sting goes, but even a relationship with a girl he loves can't come before his literal best friend in the world and other half. Be nice to Rogue, it pays off.
Do you like cats? You better, 'cause Lector is not optional. Get along with the cats or date someone else.
Somebody did that to him once, too. They pulled the whole "is it the cat, or is it me" and he dumped her so hard she literally clipped through the floor and vanished.
If you're not the fighting type of slayer, that's fine. Sit back and let him handle it. But if you are? He thinks that's so freaking cool.
Sting will either piss off your dad something fierce, or get along with him way too well to the point you want them separated.
NS/FW:
Sting is very genuinely attracted to a lot of things and does not get turned off easily. Thin or plus size, small or tall, stretch marks or smooth, he is emphatically into you.
Sting is also very welcoming to change and exploration and loves trying new things. If you've got that one kink you've been too nervous to ask someone else about, talk to him about it.
Please let him lift you up suspended congress style.
Yes, you can peg him. Please peg him.
316 notes
·
View notes
Text
Saltwater Tears
@runnning-outof-time K... Tumblr ate your ask when I saved it to my drafts so I apologise for the shitty screencap (I always take these beforehand in case it does this lol). And thank you for the request. <3 As I promised, I brought all the angst.
Also, while writing this, the character/reader reminded me of the song Dragonslayer by Lana Del Rey (Isa, you have ruined me) so I decided to use that as some added inspiration.
Pairing: Tommy Shelby x F!Reader
Fandom: Peaky Blinders
WARNINGS: Angst, sexual references, mentions of cheating, language
WC: 1816
Thomas’ words still echoed through your throbbing skull, no amount of his haughtiness lost on your memory as you trudged through the rain slicked streets. The coldness of his gaze was blazoned on the forefront of your mind, the flippancy with which he had dismissed you after the tense meeting with your father as if you were merely a trophy to flaunt before shelved to suffocate in a slow build of dust.
And with each step, your lungs seemed to constrict tighter. With each step, you remembered bits and pieces of the evidence you’d found of his infidelity – the unfamiliar hair brush on his bedside table, the smell of another woman’s perfume on his sheets. You hadn’t wanted to believe it, hadn’t found your suspicion to be unbearable until now.
He called your name past the roar of the storm, but it only drove the spike in your heart deeper each time, your tears mingling with the cold of the rain and your body shuddering from head to toe.
And yet, every time your name was uttered, you couldn’t help but falter, your bleeding heart beating for him and some cruelly human part of your mind urging you to turn back and let yourself fall into arms that would be so warm in the cold, that would soothe the bitterness in your burning veins.
You jumped back, a sheet of filth drenching the skirt of your dress. A shiver seemed to travel to the very marrow of your bone, and as you stopped, staring in shock at the car that sped by and the road you had nearly stepped across, your heart felt as if it were about to split your ribcage in half.
“Y/N.” A gravelly yet distant voice called to you so soft now, a warm breath on your neck sending another shiver to your aching bones. You turned, slowly, and swallowed your grief as you met Thomas’ piercing eyes. Once his touch grazed the bare of your arm, it was over. You weren’t going anywhere.
“Let’s talk about this,” he said, catching his own breath as his fingers travelled down the length of your arm and laced with your own that shivered, numb, from the cold.
That was the first time you had ever heard Thomas Shelby suggest you talk about anything, and it pulled at an aching heart.
“Okay. Let’s talk,” you breathed, voice nearly washed away by the roar of the storm. You blinked fiercely, lashes fluttering in the rain that struck them. “You never told me your history with my father.”
“It’s in the past,” Thomas said, and you nearly winced at his words. As his other hand reached to brush the hair slicked to your cheek, you flinched away. And like that, your bleeding heart came undone, and you said, “Really, that little pissing match was ‘in the past’? The entire purpose of that meeting was just to rub his nose in the fact that you fucked me.”
Thomas’ hand seemed to catch in the air, not used to this side of you. The side of you that was bitter, that was fed up.
And he didn’t say anything. But his fingers loosened from yours.
You choked back a sob, and your words came weaker now, and you stammered over them because you couldn’t believe what you were saying, didn’t want to imagine him answering. “Did you… did you ever… Do you really want me? Or is this your way of getting back at my father?”
All your life, you’d been taken advantage of by men who wished to grow closer to your family for their ties and their power. And while your father had many enemies – the Blinders included – you never could have imagined that someone would pretend to love you just to hurt him, let alone the one person who seemed to understand you, who’d offered you some ounce of reprieve in this unforgiving city.
You’d been used many times, but this, this was different. It would’ve hurt less had you stepped onto that road.
Thomas was still silent, chest heaving as he panted out his own breaths. Blue eyes twisted with grief, the bright of them taking your reluctant mind through memories of the pastel sky above the two of you as you rode through the countryside, of the dress he had bought you and had said did not compare to your beauty.
Your fingers bunched the drenched fabric of the very same dress, peeling wretched garment from your flesh as if it caged you to such memories. You tried not to think of all the times you’d worn it for him, that it had been discarded across the same bed that had been inhabited by other women.
“I know about her,” you added bitterly. “Or them. I know about them.” Your eyes bled tears, and your heart pumped venom. “I’ve lied to myself for too long,” you said, as you began to turn away. “Goodbye, Thomas.”
“They were just business.”
You halted, anger flaring from the raw ache of your heart, and you spun on your heel. “So you’re using them, too?” you snapped. “Everything is business with you, Thomas. Everything. Even me.”
“You’re not just business.” He took a step forward. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”
It seemed as if your heart hadn’t broken enough. At his words, it shattered in your chest.
“Y/N, I want you,” he said. “And I don’t say it enough, but I love you. It was never about your father.”
“What was it about, then?” Your voice shook and you fought against every basic instinct to draw him in close, to press your chin to his chest and hear his own heart beating for yours.
He shook his head, lips parted but not speaking, as if at a loss for words. You were about to turn away again, when he took another step forward, his hot breath fanning against your cheeks. “That first time you asked me to take you to the ocean. And fuck me, I nearly didn’t say yes.” The faintest of chuckles broke his speech, the rare chuff of his laughter clawing at your aching chest. “But when you caught the wind in your hair it was like you came alive.”
Past the damp of the rain you could smell the sea, could nearly taste the saltwater on your lips when he’d kissed you that day. The last of your worries had melted away in the heat of that kiss, had been swept away by the breeze and carried far offshore. Or so you had thought.
“And you made me feel alive,” he said, his hands cupping your cheeks now. You were paralysed, at his mercy, leaning into his touch and inhaling the scent of horses and gunpowder past the rain. “For the first time since the war.”
Breaths exchanged, and you tilted your head so that his lips brushed your forehead instead, and you said, “Why don’t you say things like this to me more?”
“I don’t know. But I can. Just come back to me.” His fingers wrapped around the back of your neck as if to trap you. You’d never heard him so desperate. It nearly made you do exactly what he asked.
As if that wasn’t what you yearned for. As if you wouldn’t do anything to forget all of this and go back to that day by the sea, or under the pastel blue sky on the back of a racehorse.
“I want to.” You could hear his heart beating now, thundering like the hooves of one of his horses as you uttered your truths into the dampened fabric of his shirt. “And I want to believe you. But I don’t know if I should.”
“Come back inside,” he breathed against your hair.
“I don’t know if my heart can take this, Thomas.” You tore yourself away, practically shoving him off while avoiding his gaze. “I don’t know if I can go through this again if you’re lying…”
“I’m not lying. Look at me. Look at me.” Firm fingers swept beneath your chin and forced your gaze to his.
“If I make you feel so alive, why do you keep killing me, slowly? Why do I keep watching you drift from me?” As if you were taken by that ocean. Your saltwater lips trembled around your words.
They were questions you’d been burning to ask for a long time now. Questions you’d buried beneath your own lies that you told yourself, like how you’d buried your anguish beneath the sands of the beach only to feel it slam once more against your chest, harder, more forceful than anything you’d known.
You couldn’t take it anymore, not as each second of silence that dragged by killed a piece of you. “You can’t answer. And if I come back to you, it’s going to keep happening.” You spoke past the rising sand in your throat until it came out as a whimper, and you shook your head helplessly, and you realised that it was your tears that you could taste on your tongue, not the ocean. “I’m so torn, Thomas.”
“I’ll flip a coin,” he said, digging into his pocket. “Heads, you trust me. Tails, you walk away.”
Those words might as well have been the last nail in your coffin. They’d sealed your fate, at one time. When he’d asked you to work for him. When you knew the moment the silver caught the wink of light that he would be your undoing no matter what it landed on.
“Not everything can be solved with a coin,” you protested, the bitter taste of betrayal on your tongue.
“Remember, it will tell you what you want. Remember when – “
“I remember, Thomas.” It was all coming crashing down on you just like the rain that pelted your shivering body, and you closed your eyes, your tears achingly warm as they bled across your cheeks.
“Watch.”
“No – “
The coin was a watery vision as it came down in the air, your lashes peeling open and lips parting in terror. Whatever it landed on, it was over. Either he’d kill you slowly or you’d die here, tonight; you’d never be the same. Your fate had always been sealed.
He snapped the coin shut in his hand. You met his eyes, your own fear reflected in their bright blues. And you realised that neither of you wanted to look. And so, tentatively, you asked,
“What is it?”
Slowly, he opened his hand. Slowly, you both looked at the coin. And slowly, the shards of your heart weighed so heavy in your chest that you felt as if you’d collapse to your knees.
But the answer wasn’t what crushed you. It was the realisation that, despite what the coin said, despite knowing what was best for you, you just…
… you couldn’t.
A.N. I'm leaving the ending ambiguous and it's up to you if the coin landed on heads or tails!
MASTERLIST • REQUEST
Please let me know if you would like to be added/removed to any of my taglists and notified of new works!
TAGLIST: @eclecticwildflowers @emotionalcadaver @evita-shelby @minaethrym @shelbydelrey @zablife @runnning-outof-time @poisonedtruth
#peaky blinders#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby#thomas shelby#thomas shelby x reader#cillian murphy#angst#peaky blinders fanfiction#peaky blinders fanfic#fanfiction#writing#my writing#fanfic#oneshot#peaky blinders imagine#requests#x reader#saltwater tears
416 notes
·
View notes
Note
One of my favorite things about Dani and her fans is how much they have romanticized dragons and unironically feed into the mother of dragons title and will literally treat those three lizards like they are her 'children.' Like, they don't know that considering fire breathing lizards that can only destroy as your children is probably not a great thing in their fave's arc lol.
Let me answer you with GRRM's words, from the comment section of his blog post "Coolest Dragons Ever" (Feb. 10th, 2014).
George's ranking of the Cooles Dragons Ever is:
Vermithrax Pejorative (From Dragonslayer)
Smaug (From The Hobbit)
Drogon (From Asoiaf)
In the comments, a couple of readers argued that "Draco" (From Dragonheart) was "the nicest dragon ever" and "the most friendly and charming dragon."
This was GRRM's answer to them:
"Yes, but dragons are not meant to be friendly or charming"
So, lets add this quote to the list:
Dragons are the nuclear deterrent, and only Dany has them —GRRM - Vulture - 2011
Yes, but dragons are not meant to be friendly or charming —Coolest Dragons Ever" (Feb. 10th, 2014)
She[Dany]'s the mother of dragons, and she controls what is in effect the only three nuclear weapons in the entire world that I’ve created. —“Interview exclusive de George R R Martin, l'auteur de Game Of Thrones” de -Le Mouv’- 2014 - [Transcription]
If I were Daenerys Targaryen. I could ride on my dragons and eliminate them in the flames. But is death the only solution we have to offer? —Lire Magazine - April 2015
“Oh sure, dragons are cool too,” he chuckles. “But maybe not on our doorstep”. —The Guardian - November 2018
Maybe if she[Dany] understood a few things more about dragons and her own history in Essos, things would have gone a little differently. —Esquire - November 2018
“I have tried to make it explicit in the novels that the dragons are destructive forces, and Dany (Daenerys Targaryen) has found that out as she tried to rule the city of Meereen and be queen there. (...) “She has the power to destroy, she can wipe out entire cities, and we certainly see that in ‘Fire and Blood,’ we see the dragons wiping out entire armies, wiping out towns and cities, destroying them, but that doesn’t necessarily enable you to rule — it just enables you to destroy.” —GRRM - Fox News Channel - November 2018
"In my head the expression "mother of dragons" is much better than "father of dragons". There is also this link with the woman who gives life, who transmits lives, carrying a gigantic power of death, of fire, of destruction. There are very powerful metaphors in there." —Dragons! (2/4) Dragons d'Occident, la figure du mal [2018] - Video - Reddit translation
Now dragons are really formidable and they can turn the tide of a battle. It flies, it's difficult to hit, it breathes fire, against which most knights and men at arms have little or no protection. So if you have dragons, that's were the nuclear option analogy comes in. You're hard to mess around with. So the dragons and fear of dragons was one of the things that made the Targaryens very secure in their power. —Before the Dance: An Illustrated History with George R.R. Martin | House of the Dragon (HBO) - August - 2022
¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Read more here:
Chronicle of a Death Foretold
Queen of Ashes
All Grrm Quotes About Dragons
102 notes
·
View notes
Text
Logan: I’m not the most frequent reader of fantasy literature, but I’ve often encountered the idea of important weapons being named. Roman? Remus? Did you name your weapons?
Roman: (offended noises) Of course I did!
Remus: Yeah, duh nerd.
Patton: Oh that’s so CUTE! What are their names?
Roman: (striking a heroic pose) Dragonslayer.
Remus: (shrugging) Cuddles.
Roman: Wait-
Roman: Is that why whenever you asked “Do you want cuddles?” and I said yes, you’d hit me with that damn thing???
#poor Roman just wants hugs#and gets a mace to the face every time#stupid twin brothers lol#logan sanders#patton sanders#Roman sanders#Remus sanders#thomas sanders#sanders sides#sander sides#ts roman#ts logan#ts patton#ts remus#sanders sides incorrect quotes#incorrect sanders sides#creativitwins#ts creativitwins
331 notes
·
View notes
Text
New Member Spotlight - December 2023
The Pond is always growing and we want to make our new members feel welcome! Here’s a list of recent additions to our fishy family, along with a little info about them!
Guppies, Jellies, and Mutuals, oh, my!
@mayalaen -
Other SM names? - Mayalaen on AO3, Discord, Twitter, Bluesky, LiveJournal, Dreamwidth, etc.
OTP? - I'm a multishipper so no true OTP.
Other fandoms? - Mostly Stranger Things, OFMD, Stargate SGA/SG1, Star Trek, X-FIles, and Angel the Series/Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but I'm interested in a lot of fandoms.
Looking for in the Pond? - I like to encourage people to write and create and I like to make friends in fandom. I was referred to the Pond for that by some members.
Something to signal boost? - I run a monthly writing/art challenge on AO3 called SPNColdestHits that you guys have already been boosting (THANK YOU!!). It's multifandom now and accepts art and original fic, not just fanfic. This is the AO3 collection link and of course, we're @spncoldesthits here on Tumblr, but we're also on Discord, Twitter, Bluesky, and Pillowfort.
Pairings you read? - I'll read pretty much any pairing, poly or otherwise. I'm not interested in reader insert, but I've read some.
Genres you read? - I prefer darkfic and/or kink, but I read anything.
Favorite writer(s)? - Xanthe Walter, but they haven't been active in fandom for about 2 years now.
What do you like to write? - My favorite is darkfic, D/S AU, and kink, but I also love writing crack and all other genres.
Masterlist!
Most underappreciated fic? - It's newer but it has the least amount of hits from the list of non-crack/non-gift fics and is an SPN/Blacklist crossover. Caging the Mongoose.
Something you haven't written but would like to try? Why not? How can we help? - I really would like to write some SPN/HDM fusions. I keep toying with the idea, but have never posted any of them. I always work better when I have prompts or ideas from others to spur me on.
.@leatafandom -
Other SM names? - @leatawrites, Leata (AO3 and Discord)
OTP? - Sabriel
Other fandoms? - Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Marvel, BBC Merlin, Star Trek, Doctor Who
Looking for in the Pond? - I could use some help with tags and challenging myself to write different things.
Pairings you read? - Ships, Gens, Poly fics
Genres you read? - Angst is my favorite but fluff and smut are always wonderful
Favorite writer(s)? - Yes, @idabbleincrazy on Tumblr or Gabriel_is_my_guardian_angel89 on Ao3
What do you like to write? - Angst, Horror, Smut, Bittersweet/Sad Things
Masterlist!
Most underappreciated fic? - My most underappreciated story is probably one of my original horror short stories. My most underappreciated fanfic is probably Becoming One,Two, and One Again.
Something you haven't written but would like to try? Why not? How can we help? -I really would like to write more horror however I feel like I struggle with expressing fear, scenery/detail descriptions, and word choice
@oganizediguana -
Other SM names? - Oganizediguana on Discord
OTP? - Destiel
Other fandoms? - I tiptoe through many fandoms, but SPN is my home. Good Omens
Looking for in the Pond? - I’d love to get encouragement for writing and the confidence to share my work. But I’d also love to just meet interesting people.
Pairings you read? - 99% destiel
Genres you read? - I read it all, but mutual pining slow burn is what makes me feel all the things. I love a good canon-compliant AU. I’m happy with anything that ends happily. Or at least hopefully.
Favorite writer(s)? - On AO3: NorthernSparrow, tenoko1, saltnhalo, there are so many amazing authors in this fandom!
What do you like to write? - Everything seems to turn into angst.
Something you haven't written but would like to try? Why not? How can we help? - I’d like the confidence to share what I have written.
@dragonslayer-5fanfiction -
Other SM names? - Ao3- Dragonslayer5
Other fandoms? - haikyuu, daria, lotr/the hobbit, tmnt
Looking for in the Pond? - I just want to make friends and read good fanfic. I like to beta read. Maybe write some fanfic, but I have writer's block rn.
Pairings you read? - Reader insert
Genres you read? - Fluff, crack. One bed, and arranged marriage forced proximity tropes.
What do you like to write? - Reader inserts. Fluff.
Masterlist! AO3 Works list
Most underappreciated fic? - Do You Think About Me? (not SPN)
Something you haven't written but would like to try? Why not? How can we help? -Honestly, writing two characters from the Fandom. I typically stick to reader insert, and I'm a little scared I won't get the characteristics right or the dynamic.
That's all for this month, folks! (If we're missing anyone, let us know and we'll add them to next month's list!) Make sure to say hi to the newbies and make them feel welcome! Thanks to all from @manawhaat, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @mariekoukie6661, @thoughtslikeaminefield, @katbratsupernaturalwhore and @heavenssexiestangel!
#welcome#new member post#pond admin#spnwin#supernatural#the winchesters#long post#fan fiction#fanfiction#fan fic#fanfic#spn fan fiction#spn fanfiction#spn fan fic#spn fanfic#supernatural fan fiction#supernatural fan fic#supernatural fanfiction#supernatural fanfic#spn prequel#pond events
21 notes
·
View notes
Text
i hate
how people seem to think snowfall's character development is unearned because it was done through magic like??????? do you discount any changes the characters go through in like, Groundhog Day or Freaky Friday or Your Name???? or ESCAPING PERIL???? the empathy magic is the whole concept of the book
"snowfall was forced to go through her arc" "snowfall changed so suddenly" "snowfall's an entire other character by the end" like, as if her whole personality is tied to her paranoia and racism
her fuckin mom even sits there at the end and is like "snowfall will be a good queen because she's fierce and she'll fight for her people" and YOU CAN CLEARLY SEE HOW SHE'S DONE THAT WHEN YOU LOOK BACK AT THE BOOK
She FIGHTS for the queens to save Pantala, she very adeptly figures out that she can use her power to convince Wren to help out,
Lynx is there the whole time watching Snowfall and believing in her, because neither Lynx nor Glacier ever saw Snowfall's flaws first, they saw her PASSION, her VIGOR, and she has SO MUCH OF IT
THAT is who Snowfall is. She starts her book off channeling her inner fire in a bad way (yelling at her subjects and guards, hating herself, distancing herself from Mink, refusing to help the Pantalans) and through her trials and tribulations, she realizes the ways in which she is wrong and by the end of the book, is using that inner fire, that passion, that burning core in her heart to do good for the world—she smashes the ice wall, she tells Tundra to fuck off, she starts being a better sister to Mink, she becomes, in Lynx's words, THE BEST QUEEN EVER
And imo kind of outclasses Sundew's entire arc in that way—I love Sundew and I think she's a good character but if we're talking about a CLASSIC, CLASSIC, CLASSIC CHARACTER ARC, Snowfall is one of the only WoF protagonists who starts off being COMPLETELY WRONG and then makes mistakes and then, by the end of the book, is changed for the better
Maybe that's why she feels so shocking to WoF readers? Starflight is the only one out of the OG 5 to have a similar trajectory, and in arc 2 you only really have like, Winter and Peril, but even then they had some POINTS
but that's beside my main point
which is her agency ISN'T taken away by the ring. she PUTS THE RING ON IN THE FIRST PLACE. the whole book is a result of her dealing with the consequences of that choice. the scavengers are important not only to bridge Dragonslayer and Flames of Hope but because it's one of the last steps for her to take as a queen. she understands that dragons need help. she then is made to understand something that no other Pyrrhian understands—that humans have emotions and feelings and thoughts, that they deserve dignity—and she believes it, and her being a trailblazer in that way is important. her empathy has evolved to a point where she can now conceive of things that other people can't. and THEN she's shown why the magic that could solve everything is gone forever, and she UNDERSTANDS why Boa did what she did, and she isn't bitter. and THAT is the last step in her transformation. thinking that "maybe Jerboa missed Glacier as much as she did" is genuinely huge, and not even not just for Snowfall. Snowfall is grieving and for her heart to have grown so large isn't some sort of unrealistic transformation. You need to be REALLY BRAVE AND STRONG to acknowledge that you're not the only person in the world hurting when you suffer something like that. That final vision that Snowfall gets doesn't make your eyes misty because Snowfall finally receives validation—it's emotional because at that point in the story you realize that Glacier was right about her daughter the whole time, that Snowfall had worth without this, that Snowfall had the potential in her to be an amazing queen without ever knowing that Glacier had thought these things. It's not Snowfall hearing Glacier's thoughts about how she'll be a good queen and asking "I can be?", it's Snowfall saying, "Maybe I am. Yeah. I'm glad you agree." AND WITH THAT WE UNDERSTAND THAT HER SELF-ASSUREDNESS IS STILL THERE, THAT THE SAME DRAGON WHO SAID THE WAS GOING TO BE THE VERY BEST QUEEN OF THE ICEWINGS EVER ON THE FIRST PAGE OF THE BOOK, IS STILL WITH US, BUT IS NOW EVOLVED INTO THE PERSON THAT SHE HAS TO BE IN ORDER TO MAKE HER SELF-CONDFIDENT STATEMENTS TRUE
I don't know. I think Book 14 is Snowfall all the way down. She's still a little Princessy, still very type-A, still a perfectionist and a total showoff at the end of The Dangerous Gift. It just kind of burns me up for people to think that the Snowfalls at either end of the book are irreconcilably different. I hate the idea that a character as deeply flawed as Snowfall would have to retain some kind of bitterness or hate or rage in her in order to be recognizable.
OR EVEN that she should've been sadder or gone through more shit! like! i think it maybe would have been a bit gratuitous. i think exploring trauma is a really valuable topic to have in a book, especially in YA and MG novels, and that maybe one or two more scenes of Tui digging into that would be nice, but Snowfall is a queen. She should be grieving her mother and doing her best to deprogram her rage and egomania linked to her experiences with the war and with Darkstalker and growing up in a supremacist culture, but the book is about learning the weight of responsibility and accountability more than anything. Having Snowfall fuck up, get faced with the full brunt of what her ignorance is making her blind to, and doing her best to fix everything wrong and make the world a better place and to fight for what is good and right, is the most important thing to showcase.
tldr best queen ever to be honest, Queen Snowfall has a place in my heart forever
Tui's best character writing lies in her
29 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sword Showdown Rematch: Round 1 Bracket
Round 1 will end on Monday, December 18th at 2:00pm PST.
Dragonslayer (Berserk) vs. Flamberge's Sword (Kirby)
Finn Sword (Adventure Time) vs. Crownsblade (Final Fantasy XIV)
Falchion (Fire Emblem) vs. Wavebreaker (Worlds Beyond Number)
Splatana Stamper (Splatoon 3) vs. Butterfly (Dota)
Monado (Xenoblade Chronicles) vs. Boreal (Sword Dancer)
Kendal (Aurora) vs. Audrey's Sword (Wandersong)
Wado Ichimonji (One Piece) vs. Unbreakable Faith (Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint)
Hand of Malenia (Elden Ring) vs. Goblin Slayer (Goblin Slayer)
Excalibur (Soul Eater) vs. Lilarcor (Baldur's Gate)
Oathkeeper and Oblivion (Kingdom Hearts) vs. Soulsword (X-men)
Magolor's Ultra Sword (Kirby's Return to Dreamland: Deluxe) vs. Azakana Blade (League of Legends)
Rivers of Blood (Elden Ring) vs. Ashbringer (World of Warcraft)
Flaming Poisoning Raging Sword of Doom (The Adventure Zone) vs. Katana of Kant (Dungeons and Daddies)
Life Ender (Hollow Knight) vs. Need (Valdemar by Mercedes Lackey)
Roukanken and Hakurouken (Touhou Project) vs. Jolt Sabre (Super Lesbian Animal RPG)
Masamune (Chrono Trigger) vs. Gram (Fate/Grand Order)
Sword of the Creator (Fire Emblem: Three Houses) vs. Sword of Heroes (Kung Fu Panda)
Thunder Edge (Ōkami) vs. Kusabimaru (Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice)
Strom'kar (World of Warcraft) vs. Buster Sword (Final Fantasy VII)
Biggoron Sword (The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time) vs. Cortana (The Shadowhunter Chronicles)
Thousand Demon Daggers (Scissor Seven) vs. Narsil (Lord of the Rings)
Leo's Katanas/Ōdachi (Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles) vs. Jashin Blade (Ultraman Orb)
Sokka's Sword (Avatar: The Last Airbender) vs. Greenhilt Sword (Order of the Stick)
Myrtenaster (RWBY) vs. Wirikidor (The Misenchanted Sword)
Nightblood (Cosmere/Warbreaker) vs. The Blade in the Dark (Friends at the Table: Seasons of Hieron)
Red Scissor Blade (Kill la Kill) vs. Serenade (Dead Cells)
Mayalaran (The Stormlight Archive) vs. Gloom Sword (The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom)
All-Black (Venom) vs. Musou Isshin (Genshin Impact)
Masamune (Final Fantasy VII) vs. Dark Sister (A Song of Ice and Fire)
Chainsword (Warhammer 40k) vs. Blade (Cave Story)
sord.... (Homestuck) vs. Sohothin (Guild Wars 2)
The Four Sword (The Legend of Zelda) vs. Rapier (Dota)
#sword showdown#sword showdown updates#im not doing the brackets in ms paint this time!!!! instead im doing them in canva which is basically exactly the same except that i can ac#actually go in and edit the textboxes after i click out of them which is a lot easier than using digital white-out on them every time i#need to fix something#sword showdown rematch
19 notes
·
View notes
Text
Full Masterlist
Updated: 4/10/23
💥 Attack on Titan:
Attack on Pranks
→Attack on Pranks: Chapter 1 (The First Task)
→Attack on Pranks: Chapter 2 (Keep Running)
→Attack on Pranks: Chapter 3 (How it All Started)
→Attack on Pranks: Chapter 4 (Showdown)
Attack on Titan Short Story Collection
→Attack on Titan Short Story Collection: Fireworks
→Attack on Titan Short Story Collection: Towels
💥 Kengan Ashura:
Muscle Heads: Ohma x Raian
→Chapter 1: Shut up, Raian
→Chapter 2: Off His Ass
→Chapter 3: Naughty
→Chapter 4: FishFace
💥 Dragon Ball:
A Serendipitous Future
Goku Black x Reader: Forbidden Fruit
→Chapter 1: The Flames of Destruction
→Chapter 2: The Game Begins
→Chapter 3: Blink of an Eye
→Chapter 4: Cat out of the Bag
→Chapter 5: The Room
→Chapter 6: Chained Freedom
→Chapter 7: The Calvary Arrives
→Chapter 8: The Curse of Immortality
→Chapter 9: Hate Me Not
→Chapter 10: Victory
→Chapter 11: Zamasu’s Revenge
→Chapter 12: Hidden Treasures
→Chapter 13: The Wolf
→Chapter 14: Infiltrator
→Chapter 15: An Unlikely Allegiance
→Chapter 16: The Forest
→Chapter 17: Red Lights
→Chapter 18: Reunion
→Chapter 19: Even Nightmares Dream
→Chapter 20: The Pact
→Chapter 21: The Ritual [SMUT]
→Chapter 22: Back Again
💥 Baki:
Not Really Katsumi
💥 One Punch Man:
Mayhem
💥 Friday the 13th/Halloween:
Friday the 13th Oneshots: Michael x Jason
→Chapter 1: Handful
→Chapter 2: Halloween Headache
→Chapter 3: You Make Me Go Crazy (SMUT)
💥Lord of the Rings/The Hobbit:
The Elf and the Elk
Red of Rivendell
Mischief
→Mischief: Chapter 1
→Mischief: Chapter 2
→Mischief: Chapter 3
→Mischief: Chapter 4
→Mischief: Chapter 5
→Mischief: Chapter 6
→Mischief: Chapter 7
💥Tangled (2010):
Dirty: Stabbington Brothers/Reader [SMUT]
Works In Progress
If there's anything in particular that you want to see posted, just comment on this post or shoot me a DM, and I'll try to get that one out a bit faster! If you have any questions also feel free to let me know. Some of these were written a while ago and forgotten about but I hate leaving things unfinished.
💥 House of Wax/Halloween:
You Look Like Me (And I Don't Like It): Bo Sinclair x Michael Myers
💥 Friday the 13th/Halloween:
Sharp Love: Jason Voorhees x Michael Myers
Friday the 13th Oneshots: Michael x Jason-Chapter 3
💥 The Collector (Asa Emory):
On Your Own: Professor!Asa Emory x Reader
Never Kiss a Stranger At the Bar: Professor!Asa Emory x Reader
Wrong File: Professor!Asa Emory x Reader
The TA: Professor!Asa Emory x Reader
💥 Hannibal (NBC):
Symphony of Murder: Asa Emory & Hannibal Lecter
💥 Slasher Harem:
House of Horror: Brahms/Asa/Michael/Jason/Harry/Pyramid Head/Bo/Thomas/Ghostface/Jason x Reader
💥 Lord of the Rings/The Hobbit:
Gold and Brown: Lindir x Legolas
Elven Encounters
Taste of Revenge
The Three Hunters: How it Should Have Been
💥 Mo Dao Zu Shi:
No Choice But the Wrong One: Xue Yang x Reader
💥 Banana Fish:
Cold Blue: Frederick Arthur x Reader
💥 Baki:
To Love a Monster: Yujiro x Reader
Triple Doom: Implied Mouth Triplets x Jun Guevaru
💥 Attack on Titan:
Attack on Titan Short Story Collection-Body Swap
💥 Kengan Ashura:
The Shadow That Never Sleeps
Muscle Heads: Ohma x Raian-Chapter 5
Kengan Ashura Oneshots-That's Not a Swimsuit: Ohma Tokita x Reader
Strong, Stronger, and the Strongest: Ohma Tokita x Lihito x Kure Raian
💥 Dragon Ball:
Goku Black x Reader: Forbidden Fruit-Chapter 23
The Devil's Promise: Goku Black x Reader
💥 Record of Ragnarok:
Cherrypop: Buddha x Reader
💥 Toriko:
55 Days to Tame the Beast: Zebra x Reader
💥 Sherlock Holmes (BBC):
The Untold Tales of a Second
💥 Squid Game:
All I See is Pink: Pink Soldiers x Reader
💥 Harry Potter:
Pranking Severus Snape
Mercy for the Brave: Severus Snape x Reader
💥 Marvel-Loki:
Not So Cold: Loki Odinson x Reader
💥 How To Train Your Dragon 3:
DragonSlayer: Grimmel x Reader
Betrothed to a Killer: Grimmel x Reader
28 notes
·
View notes
Text
【ＥｌｄｅｎＢｏｒｎｅＳｏｕｌｓ】
Godfrey/Hoarah Loux Headcanons (NSFW)
"You Will Be Loved" - Morgott x Reader
Reader x Bottom!Patches (NSFW)
Gentle Domme!Malenia x Reader
Comfortcanons - Elden Ring x Sick!Reader
Demigod Disaster, Yuletide Edition
Praising The Sun (NSFW) - Solaire x Reader
Untitled (Ideal Significant Other) - Morgott x Reader
Not-So-Overly Affectionate Marika - Marika x Reader
Untitled (Poly Palooza, NSFW) - Yandere!Rarika x Reader
Want. (NSFW) - Morgott x Reader/Tarnished
F*ck Around and Find Out (NSFW) - Elden Ring x Reader
Morgott Universe, or Morgott and His Outer God (???!!!) Lover
Yandere!Renfrey x Bloodhound Knight Consort
Just Dragonslaying Things (NSFW) - F!Reader x Sub!Dragonslayer Ornstein
Untitled - Yuria x Reader/Queen Annalise x Reader
Praise Befitting a King - Elden Ring x Reader
Untitled (NSFW) - Dom!Diallos x Reader
A Plethora of Renfrey - Godfrey x Rennala
Untitled - Onesided!Mohg x Reader
Renfrey x Bloodhound Knight Consort
Yandere!Rennala Headcanons
Poly Palooza, Blasphemous Edition (NSFW) - Rykard x Reader x Tanith
Godfrey/Hoarah Loux Headcanons (NSFW)
Rennala x Reader Headcanons (NSFW)
34 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒈𝒐 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕, 𝒊𝒗.— dehya x fem!reader. 700. drabble.
you didn’t think i could go this whole time without mentioning my other lover? drinking, grief, bards in taverns, implied beidou x reader. fantasy au tag.
Dehya finds your chambers remarkable. The vaulted ceilings, free from cobwebs. The candles hanging precariously throughout the tower, resting upon and suspended along tendrils of magic. The walls, lined with books where there is not a sill to sit, where there is not charts and maps and stained glass.
Dehya pauses before a bookshelf, filled with trinkets: Crystals and herbs, jars of cat eyes and collections of talons. Stacks of journals. What catches her eye, however, is a well preserved skull with engravings on it. A scrawling script in elvish, carefully burned into the ivory.
She reaches out to touch it, but your voice comes through. Not as harsh as she had expected, almost weak in your delivery.
“Don’t touch that,” You say, from your shy perch upon your bed. Your hands rest in your lap, playing with the rings upon your fingers.
“Apologies,” Dehya says. “Why do you have a skull?”
You come to stand next to her, feeling the weight of your dress as it drags along the marble floors. Why do you have a skull? Carefully, you remove the skull from its throne of purple velvet. It is both cold and warm in your hands. Carefully, your fingers trace over the carefully engraved words, and a warmth emits onto the tip of your finger.
You place the skull back to its resting place before its owner’s memories can begin to filter through your thoughts.
“She rests in a place of honor.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” Dehya says.
You’re quiet for a few moments, then take a deep breath. “She’s a mortal,” You finally say, “Not unlike you.”
Your chest aches. Dehya swallows, audibly, beside you.
“I hope one day you trust me enough to tell me who she was,” Dehya says, resting a hand on your shoulder. “It doesn’t have to be now.”
—
Sitting in a tavern, you nurse an ale alongside Dehya. You’ve added elven liquor to your drink, your body humming with the magical intoxication. The bard sings atop a stage, sings tales of old. Most of which you have lived through. Dehya rambles beside you, more than happy to have you in your company.
He begins his next song, however, and it causes you to slowly lower your ale, ignoring the story Dehya was telling you. The bard crafts a tale that seems as old as time, one of triumph and defeat, one of dragonslayers and dragontamers.
“Can you ask the bard to sing a different song?” You ask Dehya, interrupting her.
Caught off guard, Dehya listens in on the song. Recognizing the tale, her brow furrows. “What’s wrong with this one? Everyone loves this one!”
A crowd favorite. For puppet shows go on in the town square telling the tale, of the woman who slayed a dragon on her own, without magic. Who survived being dragged miles under water, who swam to the surface with the head of a water serpent in her hand.
“I know her,” You state. You set your pint down. “And I am in no mood tonight to reminisce over losses.”
Dehya’s eyes widen. Her attitude shifts, all excitement and eagerness. “You knew the Captain of the Crux Fleet?”
“Dehya, I’ve known just about everyone,” You say, unsurprised by the admiration and shock in her voice.
Dehya shakes her head. “This is different. I can’t believe you’ve never mentioned this before.”
“Do you speak of your deceased lovers to your current?” You cut through her excitement with the chill of a frozen blade.
Dehya freezes. She clears her throat. “I’ll ask the bard to change the song.”
You grip your pint tightly, and stop Dehya. “No, forget it.” You settle back on the chair. “No, leave it. She… She would want this story told. I’m sorry. I spoke… Out of a dark place.”
“Hey, I don’t mind,” Dehya says, overlooking the tone in favor of more favorable aspects of your statement.
She grins and leans back on her elbows, bringing her pint to her lips, facing the bard.
“What?” You snap.
She simply keeps smiling. “You think of us as lovers.”
You suck on your teeth.
“Will you keep my skull in your bedchambers, too?”
“I’ll use yours as a warding spell so I don’t fancy anymore brash women for as long as I live. Will save me the heartache.”
Dehya lets out a laugh at that, much to the dismay of the other patrons and the bard.
“Forgive my companion,” You say, “She can’t hold her liquor.”
Dehya begins to say your name, but you cut her a look, and place a finger to her lips. Dehya goes cross eyed trying to see your finger, opposed to simply feeling it.
“Quiet, the story is getting good.”
#dehya x reader#fantasy au#by ophelia#listen!#the reader has been around the block ok#ofc slaying a dragon without a vision or magic is going to get you a bard’s song that people know!#and yES ofc dehya would know of beidou#it’s all very elaborate in my head
25 notes
·
View notes
Note
What're your aus? I started reading twin snowflakes way back and so far it's the only one I've touched but I'm interested in the others (life has just been busy
Basically all these aus exist because I had the random thought “what could life be like depending on which main RWBY girl ended up liking Jaune. From that, boundless changes and scenarios were born to the point that they’re all incredibly separate down to people who live and how Salem was beat, when, etc.
There’s Lasting Embers, my pride and joy for being the first I did. It’s Dragonslayer shipping. I’ve actually made three completed stories in that au that are drastically shorter than Twin Snowflakes. Frozen Blood is Adam centric, being about if he survived the fall and being saved by a mysterious woman who has an invested interest in keeping him around.
Second is called Shackles, dealing with Blake and Yang reuniting a couple years after saving the world. An unexpected visitor arrives and now the end up going on a mission involving the very subject that strained their relationship.
Third story, which I technically wrote first is Lasting Embers. This is about Jaune and Yang’s daughter, Yujin, celebrating her 15th birthday to the best of her ability when she gets the surprise of a lifetime, her mother and aunt retuning home after over a decade. I’m pretty sure this is people’s favorite story. It’s one of my earliest so it’s a tad rough in comparison to more recent works; I still love it.
Second was Twin Snowflakes but you know more or less that’s it’s about Jaune and Weiss’s kids dealing with a mysterious and chaotic problem that threatens their family; among other things.
Third is Rosebud. That’s Lancaster, which has Carmine Arc-Rose in the center of things. Originally I had planned to write Snow Flakes and Rosebud at the same time but I’m a single person and life is very hard. That being said, it has lots on one shots and a completed story story called Rosebud Prep which is essentially the Prologue that explains why things are the way they are.
Lastly is Premonition. This has the least amount of material so far, mainly consisting of a one shots or questions people had. No full blown story yet but I’ve known forever what it’s about. This au is definitely more laid back and slice of life core than the others.
Everything that’s underlined will send people to a post that has all the chapters plus a little more for each story respectively. Snowflakes isn’t finished yet so such a post doesn’t exist yet. I have quite the journey gather all those together. If I find the time I’ll try making hyper links on the chapters that’ll send readers forward and not just backwards.💀
Also…
interdimensional Moms
interdimensional Dads
Two fun little stories of if the parents of the main kids all met at a table and talked about their lives. Little bit of spoilers obviously but also insight into more things.
#rwby#rwby au#rwby frozen blood#rwby shackles#rwby lasting embers#rwby rosebud#ask me stuff#rwby twin snowflakes#rwby lancaster#rwby whiteknight#rwby dragonslayer#rwby knightshade
40 notes
·
View notes
Text
I'm Mallory Dunlin, an avid reader and writer of monster romance. I talk about the things I'm writing, alongside a rotating collection of eclectic interests. Scroll long enough and you might be graced by a picture of Moon or Dawn, my borzoi.
As I hope anyone who picks up my books can tell, I'm queer, neurodivergent, and fascinated by the interplay of identity and society. My novels are dark fantasy romances, where the world can be brutal, but love wins the day. Most explore trauma, recovery, and the healing power of accepting others as they are.
What I'm working on: a fae enemies-to-lovers arranged marriage romance with Hades/Persephone vibes
Catalog below the cut!
Monsters of Faery
Modern-day fantasy, primarily set in Faery
CAPTURED BY THE FAE BEAST: Leah expects to die after a backcountry climbing accident. When a monstrous fae prince rescues her instead, claiming to be her soulmate, she strikes a bargain: a year and a day in his company in exchange for freedom at the end of it. But the Beast of Phazikai is more than his bloody reputation suggests, and there's far more at stake than her heart.
IN THE CLAWS OF THE RAVEN PRINCE: All deals with the fae have a twist, and when Lilly makes hers, she finds herself with a sword instead of a pen. But fate steps in when she faces the half-fae, half-manticore Chimera on the field—and discovers that the greatest enemy of Stag Court is her soulmate.
CLAIMED BY THE FLAME OF FAERY: To save her father's life from the vengeful half-dragon Duke of Nyx Shaeras, Isabela offers herself as his life-debt servant. Weathering his arrogance and pique, she starts to see the man beneath the dragonfire—but the secrets he's keeping might destroy their chances of happiness forever.
TAMING THE WILD HUNT: (novella) A deadly encounter with the Wild Hunt leaves an art thief trapped in the deep wilds of Faery—with a hellhound who won't leave her side and a Hunter who wants far more than merely her life.
Echoes of the Void
High fantasy with Renaissance-level technology
THE GARDENER AND THE WATER-HORSE: Fleeing from an abusive wizard, Safira takes refuge at one of the remote, sorcerous Spires. Though she's wary of beautiful, dangerous men, she strikes up a friendship with the water-horse of the caldera lake surrounding the island, and finds herself in deeper waters than she expected.
THE SORCERESS AND THE INCUBUS: The sorceress Rain has spent the past decade struggling to protect the world from meteors falling from the broken sky. She summons a familiar to help - and is answered by an incubus shapeshifter. As time runs out for the world, the two must learn to work together in order to save everyone from a fate only they can prevent.
THE CHANGELING AND THE DRAGON: A human woman raised by unseelie fae escapes death at the hands of slavers, only to end up in life-debt to a part-dragon sorcerer and his full-dragon cousin. Sersha knows she'll be his slave for life. After all, a regular mortal can't hope to save a sorcerer... or can she?
Standalones
HOW TO SLAY A DRAGON: Novella; originally part of the I am the Fire anthology and available for free on Bookfunnel. A dragonslayer finds more than she bargained for when a contract to kill a beast leads her to half-dragon prince driven out of the dragonlands to his mother's kingdom.
#author introduction#writeblr#bookblr#indie publishing#writers of tumblr#monster romance#fantasy romance
74 notes
·
View notes
Text
writing updates! ♡
I was going to do this to keep track of all my wips but I thought it would also be fun to share it with you guys! So I have a few upcoming fics over the next few weeks and I'm really excited to get to all of them
♡ Multichapter series and AUs:
Finished outlining the plot for Valley of Roses (jason newsted x reader) and I'm probably gonna start writing the first chapter this weekend.
I already have the plot for a part 2 of Summer Heat (jason newsted x reader) and some ideas that I may use for future parts. I may turn this into a whole new AU, so prompts and suggestions are welcome!
A sequel for Spoil me Rotten (dave mustaine x spoiled!reader) is also in the works with lots of smut just like we all love it 💖
For Heartbreaker I still want to do an alternate ending headcanon list and a bonus chapter featuring this lovely anon suggestion
I've started outlining the plot for Dragonslayer, a medieval/fantasy short series with knight!dave mustaine x princess!reader but it'll take me a while to start writing this one
♡ One shots and requests:
Got some seriously awesome requests for Dave, James, and Jason sitting in my inbox right now – big thanks to all of you for sending them in! I'm not writing them in any particular order, I kinda let them simmer in my brain until an idea pops up and then I get to writing. But don't worry, I'll get to all of them eventually 💖 So if you sent one and I haven't written it yet, it will be soon!
My requests are currently open, so feel free to hit me up with anything or just chat!
that's it for now, loves 🖤✨
4 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
onelongsong
Fun in the Sun Bikinis & Style 😎
thats-not-candy-thats-sand
Love wins
coranduran
protect my son shiro
thehamletrookmysteries
Hamlet Rook
sunsunsun97
Untitled