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moonydustx · 9 days

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Could you write a short fic on the reader spoiling law. Like they just wake up next to him and decide that it’s Law day 💗💗 pleaseee and thank you😭🫶

Hi hi dear anonymous! It took me a while to respond, I know, but time has been flying here. I loved your idea, I don't think Law would know how to deal with being pampered, but he would love the feeling. Like “do I really deserve this?” Maybe it ended up being longer than expected. Well, I tried my best, I really hope you like it!

Feeling loved

Trafalgar Law X F!Reader Warnings: Just a cute, adorable couple, Law being spoiled all day. F!Reader is the cook of the bunch. Summary: The tranquility on Law's face as he slept was your favorite sight. You wished, at least one day in this pirate life that you led, that he could have that expression on his face all day.

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Locks of dark hair tickled your skin, while the perfume that naturally emanated from Law invaded your sense of smell. You didn't know how you managed to sleep like that, legs tangled together, his arm keeping you pressed against his body, your face buried in the back of his head. For anyone looking from the outside, it would be difficult to know where one began and the other ended, but it was your favorite place in the whole world.

You stood up a little, gently trying to untangle yourself from your boyfriend. Despite his grumbling and Law trying to pull you back to bed a few times, you managed to sit down delicately. He was still sleeping - and even a light snore came from his lips. Even with his mouth half-open and his arms in disarray, Law seemed serene, immersed in a tranquility that was not common in the days of Polar Tang, much less for the submarine captain.

He deserved a whole life with this tranquility, but you knew that the life they led prevented that. At least today you would try your best to do that for him.

Taking slow steps knowing that any louder noise would wake him up, you walked out towards the kitchen. It was still early for the others to be up and even so, you knew it wouldn't take long to gain the company of the person you most wanted to spoil that day. By hurrying and avoiding dropping pans in the process, you started to design the first step towards the perfect day. Setting aside a large tray, it didn't take long for it to be filled with small portions of Law's favorite foods: onigiri, omelettes, coffee, and even some sweet jelly. Already moving forward with the lunch menu, you left his favorite fish ready to be grilled later.

Trying to balance the tray in your hands and fearing that you would be late, you used as much speed as you could until you reached the room, taking advantage of the fact that you bumped into Ikkaku to inform her of the short absence that you and the captain would have in the morning. When you open the bedroom door, you find Law already standing, looking for a t-shirt to wear.

"Good morning Captain." you practically hummed, closing the door behind you.

"Good morning my love." He passed the collar of his t-shirt over his face, finally being able to see you. "Wow, what's all this?"

"Just a treat." you walked closer and your hand gently guided him back to bed. "Although someone decided to wake up before I arrived."

"You don't have to worry about that, I can continue here." he adjusted himself on the pillows, a mischievous smile appeared on his lips. "As long as you stay too."

"You're in charge, captain."

Adjusting yourself on the bed, you sat next to him and let the tray remain divided between your legs and his. Your lips quickly found his cheeks and when he turned to return the gesture, you took a piece of the rice ball to him, which he readily accepted with a hum.

"What did I do to deserve this?"

"I believe my captain deserves special treatment every now and then." You shrugged and he returned the gesture by putting a piece of food in your mouth. "Hey, this food is for you!"

"And that's exactly why we're going to split."

Part of the morning passed like this, the two of you entangled again, this time lost between stolen kisses and pieces of the banquet given to each other, as if completing each gesture. Placing the tray aside, Law snuggled you against his body, wasting a good few minutes there, stealing the taste of your lip, letting his hands spread across your skin. There was no malice in the contact, it was just as if your skin were a magnet that was difficult to resist. It didn't take long for you to end up the same way you had woken up, but this time it was Law who was stuck in the back of your neck.

"Babe…" he called, the low and almost hoarse voice sent goose bumps across your skin. "We need to get out of bed."

"Not today."

"Not today?" he repeated, in a provocative tone. "It's an irresistible proposition."

"Then don't resist." you gently pulled his face away, placing a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose. "I promise it will be worth it."

"I know it will, but unfortunately I have some things to sort out."

"What do you think about a shower first?" you proposed and saw his face light up. You knew your boyfriend well and knew what he was about to suggest. "No, not that kind of shower. Let's go."

You pulled him out of bed and even though he mumbled that he would rather turn the shower into something else, you asked him to leave that idea for later. Preferably when the entire sub was quieter and couldn't disturb them. Law entered the bathtub first and you had to contain the light laugh that insisted on leaving your lips when you caught his eyes following your movements. Law didn't hide when he saw your clothes hit the ground, not even when you approached him. He adjusted himself in the tub, ready to make room for you to fit in front of him and was surprised to see you swing your legs behind him and sit behind his body.

"What are you doing?" he turned his face over his shoulder, smiling when he felt your lips kiss his back.

"Just let me take care of you." your nails slid down Law's back lightly, you knew every part of his body and knew the shivers that gave him.

That gesture was the most mischievous thing about your little shower. Your hands preferred to be busy massaging his tense shoulders and even though you had much less strength than the man, you could almost hear him purring when you squeezed harder. The moan of satisfaction escaped his lips as he practically melted into your hands as he felt your fingers massage through the dark strands of his hair, washing the short locks.

The shower took longer than usual, just because you couldn't detach your body from him. Your hands were already wrinkled from contact with the water when you left the bathtub behind. Seeing Law finish getting dressed, you knew there was no way to stop him from working that day, at least you had managed to hijack part of his morning.

"Did you know you make it even harder for me to leave this room?" he grumbled when he saw you pout. "That's a low blow, you look really cute like that."

"Polar Tang won't sink if it's away from your supervision for a day." you retorted and found him irreducible. The only way out at the moment was to accept. You stood on your toes and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. "Until later."

"See you later…" he walked to the door and turned around before leaving. "My door will be open if you want to visit."

"You're getting spoiled Trafalgar."

"Blame my girlfriend." he replied, leaving you alone with your laughter.

Returning to the kitchen, you took advantage of the presence of the others to make small talk, thinking about what would be your next move for Law's perfect day. Preparing lunch, you remembered the small gift you had bought for his birthday and with date is still far away, you could find a replacement and take advantage of today to surprise him.

"Guys, what did the captain do to her?" Penguin commented when he saw you again arranging a tray with some salads, grilled fish and a glass of juice. You knew that having missed part of the morning, Law was unlikely to stop work for lunch and this was the perfect opportunity to meet him again.

"I know. They definitely had a quickie early on." Shachi patted your back and you raised the knife that was arranging the food toward him. "Ouch, I'm kidding."

"Tell us, what was the tea?" Ikkaku said in a suggestive tone.

"I'm going to pretend I don't hear any of you three." you replied, adjusting the tray.

"But what's happening today with the captain, I barely saw him." Bepo butted in.

"You four."

Hearing your friends' complaints, you went to the room where Law was. All it took was a few knocks on the door and you heard a "come in" coming from inside. The smile that crossed Law's lips was reward enough for the day's efforts. Instead of standing up, Law gave you space to sit on his lap, wrapping his hands around your waist.

"This dish is so beautiful, send my thanks to the kitchen." He placed a few kisses on your shoulder. "I don't think I've ever eaten as well as I did today."

"That offends this crew's cook." he laughed, stealing a piece of fish from the plate. "After you eat, I left a surprise on your bed."

"Does this involve dessert?" his voice dropped a few decibels, making you laugh. You didn't know that your boyfriend - when relaxed - could be a potential pervert.

"No, that's only later." you moved your hips against his body, just to tease him. "Now I'm the one who needs to get back to work." You placed a quick kiss on him and left him alone.

Before returning to your tasks - which had been piling up since the morning - you went to his room to take the gift out of hiding. A rare and limited edition Sora collectible sticker album, along with most of the stickers. You had spent a good part of your monetary reserve on that, but it would be worth it.

The afternoon passed quickly as you finished all your pending tasks, it wasn't because you maintained a relationship with the captain that he and the other crew members would take it easy on you, this included fulfilling your responsibilities. When you returned to Law's little hideout - aka his room - you wished you'd had the chance to frame the scene that was playing out. Law was sitting on the floor, the album open and several stickers spread out along with some action-figures. He seemed to compare one of the ninjas whose names you couldn't remember with one of the shiny stickers.

"Looks like someone liked the gift." Your voice broke him out of his trance and before you continued, Law stood up and took your feet off the ground by hugging you tightly.

"This is the best gift I've ever gotten. Where did you get all this?" He pulled you onto the bed. "That one is super rare, I remember when me, Shachi and Penguin saw it the first time and tried to steal it from the boy…" he realized through your laughter that he had let his nerdy side escape. "You are incredible."

"Don't overdo it my babe."

"Today I felt so good." he pulled you so that your legs circled his waist, his hands automatically attaching themselves to your waist. "You make me feel so comfortable. I-I felt… You know what, never mind." He pushed the thoughts away with a smile on his lips and you noticed for the first time that that gesture was almost uncontrollable at the moment. Genuine happiness crossed Law's face.

"My beautiful boy, you know you can tell me."

"I felt loved." he confessed, warning you against his arms and stealing a quick kiss from you. "I feel loved every day by your side, but today was worth even for the bad days."

"I hope more days of your life are like this." You said, stroking the small hairs that littered his face.

"Of our lives."

"You'll end up spoiled." a small scream escaped your lips as he turned you over on the bed.

"Spoiled by you? Doesn't seem like a bad thing to me." he fit between your legs and you could feel him press down on you. "And if I remember correctly, I still have something more to gain."

#fiction #reader insert #one piece #no use of y/n #requests open #trafalgar law #law x reader #law x you #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgardwaterlaw #requested

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 2 months

Text

Napoleonville [Chapter 8: The New House]

Series Summary: The year is 1988. The town is Napoleonville, Louisiana. You are a small business owner in need of some stress relief. Aemond is a stranger with a taste for domination. But as his secrets are revealed, this casual arrangement becomes something more volatile than either of you could have ever imagined.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sexual content (18+ readers only), dom/sub dynamics, smoking, infidelity, kids, parenthood, historical topics like violence and discrimination, Cakes with Christabel, angst?? Who am I kidding. Angst!!!!!!

Word Count: 5.9k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @marvelescvpe @toodlesxcuddles @era127 @at-a-rax-ia @0eessirk8 @arcielee @dd122004dd @humanpurposes @taredhunter @tinykryptonitewerewolf @partnerincrime0 @dr-aegon @persephonerinyes @namelesslosers @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @gemini-mama @daenysx @chattylurker @moonlightfoxx @huramuna @britt-mf @myspotofcraziness @padfooteyes @targaryenbarbie @trifoliumviridi @joliettes @darkenchantress @florent1s @babyblue711 @minttea07 @libroparaiso @bluerskiees @herfantasyworldd @elizarbelll @urmomsgirlfriend1 @fudge13 @strangersunghoon @wickedfrsgrl

Only 2 chapters left!!! 🥰🧁

“I have no idea what he’s thinking,” Christabel tells Alicent, a low furtive murmur around nibbles of a cinnamon French toast cupcake. They are both sitting at the kitchen counter as you scuttle around wiping down burners and handles and knobs, trying not to listen in, unable to help yourself. At the table, Amir is frosting a Lady Baltimore cake and chatting with Criston, who has eaten no less than three miniature cherry pies in the past fifteen minutes. Amir keeps casting you wide-eyed, flummoxed glances. He means: Can you believe these people? No, you can’t.

Alicent sips the glass of sweet tea you poured for her and gazes vaguely around the room. “Oh, you know how Aemond is, dear. He works so hard. He’s so consumed by the Lake Verret project.”

“But shouldn’t he talk to me?” Christabel’s large blue eyes are luminous, persistent.

“Don’t be ridiculous, darling. Of course he talks to you.”

“Sure,” Christabel says, frowning. “He talks to me about the weather and the garden and the koi in the fish pond. He asks if I listen to Dire Straights or AC/DC. Nothing of consequence, nothing revealing. And he never touches me. Alright, fine, there’s a hand on my shoulder or my waist once in a while, for a moment. There are quick, courteous kisses. But that’s all. And he’s so…so…” She struggles to decide on a word. “Formal!”

“Have you tried the cannoli cupcake yet?” Alicent asks, sliding the plate towards Christabel. “It’s just divine. I absolutely adore it.”

“When we’re apart he says he misses me, but he hardly ever calls. He tells me that he loves me, but only if I say it first.”

“He’s marrying you!” Alicent declares as she restlessly twists her assortment of glittering rings, gold and diamonds and emeralds. “What more is there to say, dear?”

“Surely there must be something,” Christabel mumbles. She obediently samples the cannoli cupcake, carving away a tiny sliver with her fork. “Oh, that is wonderful, isn’t it?”

“I think it’s my favorite one yet.”

They have twelve flavors to choose from, some familiar and some new: vanilla bean and triple chocolate of course, the classics, and then also cannoli, cinnamon French toast, carrot, red velvet, Boston cream pie, apple cobbler, peanut butter and grape jelly, Neapolitan, Louisiana crunch, and hummingbird. Christabel surveys the selection and then looks to where you are vigorously scrubbing an already clean stovetop. “Aemond mentioned something about banana bread cupcakes. Do you have one of those we could try?”

And again, you are amazed by how much he remembers: the very first cupcake from the very first night. “Um…I’m not sure, actually. Amir, didn’t we make a batch earlier this week? Are there any still on the table?”

Amir checks the cake plates, lifting glass covers, until he locates a single remaining banana bread cupcake for your customers. He ferries it to the kitchen counter with great ceremony. “Everyone raves about this flavor! And it’s so quintessentially southern. Perfect for a Louisiana wedding.” You give him a miserable, deadened stare and he offers a millisecond smirk of commiseration. What else can we do? Amir means. And you think: Nothing.

Christabel samples the cupcake, an infinitesimal morsel speared on the very tip of her fork. You recall how Aemond tasted like sugar and honey and cinnamon when he kissed you on the night you met, rough, dominating, irresistible, without the aching weight of disappointments or betrayals. If time was a cobweb you could rip and walk through, you’d be back in that May dusk in an instant, you’d live there forever and never leave.

“That’s it.” Christabel grins as she licks cream cheese frosting from her full, pink lips. “This one. I want a banana bread cake.”

“Mmm,” Alicent agrees, taking a bite. “It has so many dimensions! Sweet with just a touch of salt, light and fluffy but with a certain substantial, rustic quality, don’t you think? It’s the cinnamon, perhaps.”

You make a note on your yellow legal pad—a reminder you don’t need—so you can avoid Christabel’s benign, guileless gaze. “Is there a design you’d like for the frosting?”

“Wildflowers.”

Amir emits a startled gasp before he can swallow it back down. You look up at Christabel. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Just like the vanilla bean cake you made for the engagement party.” She draws blossoms in the air with her fingers, whimsical like a fairytale. “There was white icing and then all these gorgeous flowers in a dozen different colors. You could do that for a wedding cake, couldn’t you?”

“Of course.” And then you amend: “Well, Amir can. He’s our Picasso.”

“You’ll need something for the rehearsal dinner too, dear,” Alicent tells Christabel. Then she turns to you, tugging anxiously at one of her auburn ringlets. “You’re the expert, love. What would you recommend to impress upon our guests all the history and mystique of the Deep South?”

Your mind is blank, your thoughts gnarled up with visions of Christabel meeting Aemond at the end of an aisle. Amir sees this and he saves you.

“A Napoleon cake,” he announces with his best salesman enthusiasm, powerful enough to sweep everyone else along with him.

Alicent claps her hands, elated. “Oh, just like the town!”

“It has layers of puff pastry and rich custard cream, very French, very elegant and sophisticated, but also a nod to Napoleonville. And we can add a cherry jam to make it more romantic, if you like.”

“Doesn’t that just sound heavenly, darling?”

“Does Aemond like cherries?” Christabel asks Alicent. You know he does, but you don’t say anything.

“I think so. We’ll ask him tonight to be sure.” Alicent is opening her clutch purse to get the cash to pay you; she is eager to have this errand finished, you believe. “And can you put wildflowers on top of the Napoleon cake as well?”

“You can have the Declaration of Independence written on it if that is your heart’s desire,” Amir says, then steals a glimpse of you. You’re jotting the order down and then tracing over your own letters again and again.

“That’s the color scheme,” Christabel says a bit dreamily, forever woolgathering. “Wildflowers. And I think you suggested it at the engagement party,” she tells you, appreciative. In your recollection, it was less of a suggestion than a confession of what you once dared to hope for. “Everything has to have wildflowers. Even the dress.”

Alicent groans. “Oh, Christabel, not this again.”

“I don’t know why you’re being so resistant, those dresses were spectacular.”

“Whoever heard of a multicolored wedding dress?” Alicent asks you, Amir, Criston. “It’s absurd. The bride always wears pure white, everyone knows that. It’s tradition! It’s dignified!”

“Well now I get to solicit opinions too.” Christabel reaches into her own purse—a quilted shoulder bag, light blue with red roses and a label reading Souleiado stitched inside—and produces several polaroid photographs. She gives them to you; they are all of her posing in different wedding dresses, stylish white gowns freckled with wildflowers like splashes of paint. “All anyone can talk about is what I should wear, what the guests will expect, what they will chatter about when they gossip afterwards,” Christabel tells you. And in her vast, shimmering eyes you can detect no resentment or slyness, only quiet desperation. “But you’re a real person. So be honest with me, because there’s only one thing I really care about. Will my husband think I look ravishing in any of them?”

“These theatrics,” Alicent sighs to herself, lighting a Marlboro cigarette. Again, she is peering aimlessly around the kitchen. Amir fidgets with the dogwood flower in his hair as he watches you wearily. Criston compulsively eats another miniature cherry pie.

You study the polaroid photos. Each one feels like a split lip, a fractured rib, the shredding elephantine pressure of a contraction. You wait to speak until you’re sure your voice won’t break. “They’re all stunning. But this one…” You place one picture on top of the pile. “This dress was made for you. Just look at your face. Glowing like a lightning bug.”

“Thank you,” Christabel says, beaming, immensely grateful, and she takes the photos back. She seems pacified. “You’re married, aren’t you?”

“I was, yes. Briefly. Not very happily, I must admit. But it was worth it to get my daughter.”

She smiles. There’s no uneasiness; she doesn’t shy away from displays of human frailty. “I’d like a few daughters one day. We could all dress up together and style each other’s hair.”

“I wouldn’t count on it. If I tried that, I’d get my hands chewed off.”

Christabel laughs. She wears a casual blue t-shirt, blue gingham capri trousers, and white flat pumps. Her eyeshadow is a sparkling gold, her mascara flaking onto the apples of her cheeks. She is still marveling at you with those aquamarine eyes when Alicent pulls a list out of her clutch and grudgingly crosses off items with a black ballpoint pen.

“So we’ve got a wedding cake, a rehearsal dinner cake, a dress, a venue, flowers, photographers…I still need to call about hair and makeup…and we need to pick out candles…”

“Where are you getting married?” you ask Christabel.

“The most unique, picturesque, atmospheric place in the entire state of Louisiana, I’m sure of it.”

“We took a drive to visit that church you mentioned,” Alicent says to you. “And it was absolutely perfect. None of our guest will have ever seen anything like it. And it’s so historic! Over 150 years old! The Chapel of Saint Honoratus of Amiens.”

Amir squeals, a distressed mewing that he stifles with a feigned cough into his elbow. You stand shellshocked for a few seconds before managing a generic encouragement: “Really! Wow! Amazing! Great!”

Now Christabel is rather melancholy again. She scrutinizes her engagement ring, a large teardrop emerald with a gold band. Her voice is low, like she’s talking to herself. “I just wish…I don’t know. That we had more time together before the wedding, I suppose. Then I think I’d feel like I had more of a handle on things. It’s all been such a whirlwind, such a shock. A good shock, but still. We hardly know each other.”

Alicent prompts her: “You care for Aemond, don’t you, dear?”

“I’m in awe of him,” Christabel replies, a little dazed, a little defenseless. “He’s so clever and gallant. He’s the most inspiring man I’ve ever known. And the scar…it gives him quite a roguish look, doesn’t it? Like a Bond villain. It’s not a detriment in the least.”

“Yes, yes,” Alicent says impatiently, like she’s waiting for the conversation to be over. “Then there’s nothing more to worry about. You care for him, he cares for you, and you’ll have the honeymoon to get better acquainted. Criston, would you go outside and start the Lexus, please?” He dutifully departs.

Honeymoon. Your stomach lurches, the sea in a storm. You can see Aemond’s hands on Christabel’s face, in her hair, skating up her bare thighs. You can hear him moaning her name.

“We’re going to Greece,” Christabel informs you, thinking she’s being polite. “Athens, Mykonos, Santorini, and Corfu. Have you ever been?”

I’ve never been anywhere. But instead you say, forcing a smile: “Not yet.”

When Christabel, Alicent, and Criston have gone, you look to Amir. Your blood has turned to cement: cold, heavy, immobile, trapped. “You realize she’s getting my wedding, right? The one I always wanted. The wildflowers. The candles. The chapel.”

“And she’ll even be taking your favorite dick home at the end of the night.”

You cover your face with both hands and shake your head, trying to clear it, to drive out mirages of someone else’s oasis. This can’t be real. I can’t handle it, I can’t survive it.

Amir pushes his tortoiseshell glasses up the bridge of his nose and says, gently now: “If we’re catering dessert, we’ll have to go to the wedding. The rehearsal dinner too.”

“Why would they want that? How can they not see how insanely awkward and wrong this is?”

He shrugs. “They probably think it’s normal. Wasn’t Camilla at Charles and Diana’s wedding?”

“If one more person tries to talk to me about Camilla Parker Bowles, I’m going to feed myself to the gator.”

“You’ll have to come to terms with it or you’ll have to end it. Those are the only options.”

“Yeah.” And it’s not just about me. It’s Cadi’s life too.

Amir sits down at the kitchen table, crosses one leg over the other, kicks his foot nervously. He rests an elbow on the tabletop and his chin on the knuckles of his left hand. “I hate to give you more bad news.”

You already know what he’s going to say. You’ve been dreading it for months. “You have enough money saved for San Franscisco.”

“I do.”

You exhale, your shoulders collapsing, tapping your fingertips against the counter. The air conditioner whirrs; the cicadas shriek in the trees outside. The house is hushed and still. Cadi is away at horse camp. Each day you receive a postcard in the mail that you assume the employees forced her to write at gunpoint. “When are you leaving?”

“The end of July. I’ll wait until after the wedding, once all the dust has settled. But I can’t wait any longer than that.”

“I want you to be happy,” you say. “I really do. But I’m going to miss you so much. You’ve been my best friend for a decade. You’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to a partner in life.”

Amir smiles faintly. “Come over here.”

When you sit beside him, he takes your hands in his; and you remember how he visited you in the hospital after Cadi was born, carrying a bouquet of wildflowers he picked himself and a Tupperware container full of crawfish pistolettes. He had been just a casual friend before you found out you were pregnant, one of a group, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t keep him at an arm’s length. Amir was different, and not in a way that you fully understood or accepted yet. But he was the only friend who had no judgment for you when you told him you were pregnant, who cared about how you felt, who wanted to be a part of whatever would happen next. He was the only one who stayed.

“I’ve never had a boyfriend,” Amir tells you. “I’ve never even been on a date, not once. I’ve never been in love. I’ve never had sex that wasn’t a one night stand in a New Orleans club or the back seat of my Ford Escort because those were the only places we had to go. And I’m starting to believe that people like me can’t have more than that. So I have to go someplace where I can have more, where I will have more. I don’t want love to be something that only other people get to experience. I don’t want to be afraid of leaving my house after dark or wake up every day wondering if someone has broken a window out of my car again. I have to go. There’s no future for me here. If I stay in Napoleonville, this place will kill me, one way or the other.”

Okay, you think. I can let him go. After everything he’s done for me, this is how I can be the friend that he deserves in return. “You should leave, Amir,” you say, tears stinging in your eyes. “I hear you, I understand you. I just wish I could go with you.”

“No, don’t cry, don’t cry! This isn’t the end. I’ll fly back to visit, you know that. Grandma’s still here, you and Cadi are here. And you can visit me too. Maybe you’ll even settle down on the West Coast someday. Eight more years and you’re free.”

You try to imagine your life then: Cadi headed off to college—and she will go to college, you’ve already decided that—and your tether to Willis weakened, closer to 40 years old than 30, Aemond and Christabel nearing their anniversary. How many children will they have by then? Three? Four? And the Lake Verret project will be well-established and no longer in need of so much of Aemond’s attention, and the house they call The Last Desire will sit empty on the lakeshore, warm draughts breathing through it like blood in veins. “I wouldn’t know how to exist anywhere else.”

“You’d learn,” Amir says confidently. “Now, have you ever made a Napoleon cake before?”

“I don’t think so. Not that I can remember.” You consider this. “My mom might have a recipe lying around somewhere. I’ll call and ask her.”

“Yes, do that,” Amir agrees. “If she doesn’t, I’ll try to dig one up at the library. We’ll want to have a few practice runs before the rehearsal dinner. Gotta impress the Rockefellers and their soulless millionaire ilk. Unless you were planning to have a homicidal meltdown and make the custard out of antifreeze or something.”

You chuckle. “No. Probably not.”

“It would be difficult to blame you.” And he turns on the little pink Panasonic radio: Alone by Heart.

~~~~~~~~~~

In a spacious corner booth of the Olive Garden in Gonzales, Aemond is talking about Lake Verret as you pick at your Tour of Italy and Frank Sinatra pipes through the speakers. You could swear they have the same three songs playing on a loop: Fly Me To The Moon, My Way, Luck Be A Lady, back to outer space again.

“But by total coincidence, Daeron has been researching desalination techniques for his latest article. Apparently there are ways to try to mitigate the damage and reduce the brackishness of the water, so we’re going to be—”

Abruptly, you ask: “Where does Christabel think you are right now?”

Aemond’s forehead crinkles, his fork hovers above his plate of herb-grilled salmon. He’s wearing a black t-shirt and his Marlboro jacket, jeans, Adidas sneakers. “Why do you care?”

“She’s getting the wedding I always wanted, did you even notice? She’s getting married at the Chapel of Saint Honoratus of Amiens in Belle River. She’s getting wildflowers and flickering candles.” And she’s getting you too.

“Okay,” Aemond says slowly. “I’m not involved in any of that.”

“I think you are, actually, because you’re kind of the groom.”

“But I don’t do the wedding planning,” he insists. “I have no idea what Christabel has arranged. My job is to be there on the day in a suit and that’s just about the extent of the real estate it takes up in my brain.”

“She’s never mentioned any of that to you? Not once? You’d swear on your life?”

He sets down his fork with a clang and stares fixedly at you. Your waitress glances over from several tables away where she is refilling a couple’s sweet tea glasses. “What do you want me to say? I’m sorry you had good ideas and other people liked them. It fucking sucks that you didn’t get the wedding you wanted when you were seventeen. But that wasn’t my fault. I didn’t know you yet, and you didn’t know me. You can’t blame me for what Willis or anyone else did.”

“But it’s not fair,” you choke out, sounding weak and juvenile, and you hate it but you can’t stop. “I understand that you’re marrying her, I get that, but she can’t have everything.”

“Look…” Aemond laces his hands together on top of the table, and his voice softens. “Even if Christabel didn’t exist, even if you were from my world, even if you were a duchess or a socialite or the daughter of the president of the United States of America, I still couldn’t marry you.”

You scoff; it’s despicable. “Because of Cadi?”

“No,” Aemond says, like that’s preposterous, like he’d never consider her to be a liability. “Because I have to have heirs.”

“Fuck you,” you hiss with vitriol that stuns him. Now the waitress is gawking. “You’re going to manipulate Christabel into walking down that aisle and then immediately get her pregnant?”

“Why are you mad at me?! I’m listening to you, I’m respecting you! You don’t want to have any more children of your own, fine, completely reasonable, I would never ask you to have a baby and go through all of that again for the sake of the Targaryen dynasty, but somebody has to!”

“You really don’t understand why I would empathize with a teenage girl trying to raise a child when she’s lonely and exhausted and confused about why the man she married isn’t turning out to be who she expected?”

Aemond shakes his head like it’s not a valid comparison. “She wants this.”

“She doesn’t know what it is. She doesn’t understand what she’s signing up for.”

“Everyone from a family like mine goes through this,” Aemond says. “My grandparents did, my mum and dad did, Aegon did, even bloody Charles and Diana did, and now it’s my turn. There are growing pains, but people adjust and it all works out eventually. Christabel will learn to manage her expectations, and once the children are born she can find happiness wherever and with whoever she wants to.”

“But you’ll be with her,” you forced out, voice fracturing, and at first Aemond doesn’t grasp what you mean. “You’ll…you’ll sleep with her. You’ll touch her, you’ll kiss her, you’ll do everything with her.”

“Surely you, as someone who called up a stranger from a personal ad in the Bayou Journal, comprehends that sex can be a solely physical act under the right circumstances.”

“So what, you’ll fuck me and then go home to her? Or you’ll fuck her and come home to me? And I’m supposed to live like that?”

“Yes,” he says, like it’s simple, like it’s easy.

You gaze morosely out of the restaurant window. In the distance is a Dollar General, a Burger King, the Kmart where you had to buy your own engagement ring.

“Do you want me to tell Christabel to change the wedding?”

“No.”

“Because if I tell her to pick a new venue, new flowers, new cakes, whatever, she’ll do it.”

“No. She likes her wedding. I can’t take that away from her. She thinks I’m her friend.”

“Cupcake,” Aemond says, tenderly now. You turn back to him. “I don’t want to fight with you. I’m going to be gone for a while, four or five days. I have to fly to Norway and inspect some of the offshore rigs we have up there.”

“In the North Sea?” you ask, alarmed. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

“I mean, it’s oil drilling. It’s one of the most deadly professions in the world. But that’s how we built our fortune, our legacy. I’ve survived before, I’m sure I will again. If you need anything while I’m gone, you can call the house. Criston knows that you’re to be taken care of.”

“No one else can go to Norway instead of you?”

“I have to go.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s my responsibility.”

“Because Viserys told you to?”

“They amount to the same thing.”

“I don’t think you should listen to him.”

“I have to go,” Aemond says again. He takes out his wallet and lays $30 on the table. “But there’s something I need to show you first.”

As Aemond’s red Audi Quattro barrels down Route 70 southbound towards Napoleonville, you say very little to each other. Once you were strangers, and the words flowed easily and your bodies intertwined with effortless need, and now you have known each other for nearly two months and shared days and nights and confessions and yet every ghost filled up the space between you until it was a splinter, a gap, a gulf, a chasm. You miss the person he was when he showed up on your sloping, creaking porch steps back in May. You miss the person you were before you found out about Christabel.

A Men At Work song comes on the car radio, and it takes you a moment to figure out which one. It’s Down Under, a bewildering hit from 1981. “I never understood this song,” you say, staring through the open window as a jungle of southern live oaks, dogwoods, and cypresses rolls by. Rivulets of opaque, slow-moving bayou water snake through the wild green. Pelicans flap their wings in the pink-golden dusk sky. “What’s a head full of zombie? What’s a Vegemite sandwich?”

Aemond laughs, a smoldering Marlboro Red nestled in his left hand. You wonder if once he’s married he’ll wear a gold band on his ring finger, if he’ll take it off when he cheats with you. “Cupcake, it’s obviously about Australia.”

“What?”

“Down Under? As in, literally below the rest of us in the Southern Hemisphere? Head full of zombie means they’ve been smoking weed. Vegemite is a kind of yeast spread they put on sandwiches. I’ve had it, it’s disgusting. The whole song is in Australian slang. Everyone knows it’s about Australia.”

I didn’t. You look out your window again. Aemond takes note and swiftly backpedals.

“But I mean, I can see how an American wouldn’t know that. No big deal, okay? To anyone in the Commonwealth, Australia is like our fuckup sibling. It’s our Aegon. But you guys probably don’t really learn about Australia in school. So…yeah. It’s probably not as obvious as I assumed.”

“Maybe I missed that lesson,” you say. Maybe I missed that year.

In a brand new neighborhood just outside the town center of Napoleonville, Aemond parks in the paved driveway of a ranch house on a three or four acre lot. The yard is bordered by a white masonry fence with chicken wire around the base to keep snakes and gators out. There are a few dogwood and bay laurel trees, and one monstrous southern live oak that’s probably two hundred years old. Aemond cuts the Audi Quattro’s engine and steps out into the twilight.

“Aemond? What are we doing here?”

“Follow me.”

“Why?”

He walks around to your side of the car, opens the door, and leans down to grab your face with his right hand, his fingers hooked around the curve of your jaw. Instantly, there is a bolt down your spine: hunger, warmth, weakness, momentum that is thoughtless like falling from a great height. “Follow me,” he repeats, grinning mischievously. “Right now.”

Aemond has a key that unlocks the front door. Inside is rose pink carpeting and mauve walls, a sunken conversation pit, popcorn ceilings, mini blinds on the windows, closet doors covered with mirrors. You can see your face reflected in them, puzzled.

“This is the living room, clearly,” Aemond says as he continues briskly through the house. As an afterthought, he kicks off his Adidas sneakers so he doesn’t track any dirt inside. You do the same, sliding off your cheap flats from Kmart. He points down a hallway. “There are two guest bedrooms down there, and then a big one at the other end of the house with its own private bath. Here’s the kitchen…” He leads you through it, mint green with pristine black and white tiles on the floor. “And over there is the dining room.” It’s a kind, golden yellow like dawn or sunset.

“Aemond, what—?”

“Bedroom next,” he interrupts, hurrying you along.

At the end of the hall, he opens a door to reveal a sprawling chamber. It is blue like his bedroom in the Targaryen mansion, but not a deep, vivid sapphire color; it is a pale blue like prairie flax or a clear midday sky. The carpet is lush and soft. There are mirrors on the ceiling.

“Those are optional,” Aemond clarifies, pointing upwards. “But personally, I like them.”

“Aemond, whose house is this?”

“It’s yours,” he says.

“It’s what?!”

“Well, technically, it isn’t yours quite yet,” he admits. “I bought it in cash, it will close in a week or two. At that point I’ll sell it to you for $1—the same price as one of your cupcakes, incidentally—and then it will officially be your house. And it doesn’t even have a sinking foundation or any alligators. Imagine the possibilities.”

“But…but…”

“Cadi’s bedroom is green, like the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I’ve been told the yard is big enough for one horse, or two very small horses. Ponies, I guess.”

“You cannot buy me a house,” you say, aghast.

“I think I already did.” He holds out the key to you, resting in his palm among lines of prophesy.

You are paralyzed; it takes you forever to find your words. “Aemond, I’ll never be able to repay you.”

“You don’t owe me anything. It’s a gift, not a trade,” he says, the key still lying in his outstretched hand. “Every cent I spend on you, every second I spend with you, is solely because I want to do it and for no other reason. There’s no obligation. There’s no quid pro quo. And that’s what I feel like you don’t understand. I have no logical reason to keep you in my life, absolutely none, aside from the fact that I want you to be here. And I want that with everything I’m made of. I never stop wanting it. So let me help you. Take the key. Take the house.”

His right eye is on you, imploring, commanding. At last, you lift the key from his palm. Studying it like the cryptic letter of a foreign language, you murmur: “You shouldn’t have done this.”

Aemond rakes his fingers through your hair, tilts your face up towards his, skims his lips feather-lightly from your cheekbone down to your lips—though he doesn’t kiss you, only ghosts his flesh over yours, a taste, a taunt—and then up to the curl of your ear. His whispered voice is colored with wicked scarlet desire. “You don’t tell me what to do. I tell you what to do.”

If he yanked off your t-shirt you would let him. If he unzipped your denim shorts and slipped his artful fingers inside them he would find panties soaked through for him. You would let him do anything he wanted to you, here in this glass-fragile liminality before he becomes Christabel’s in law, in body, in inked and inerasable history. But it would not be because you want to, not because you feel ready in your bones, not because you trust him again. It would only be because you could not bring yourself to resist.

Aemond reads this on your face; he stops before you have to tell him to.

~~~~~~~~~~

On July 1st, Cascade Stables is swarming with parents as they descend upon the property to collect their children and meet the horses they’ve spent the past week with. There is a stereo somewhere blaring Your Love by The Outfield; apparently, this does not disturb the horses. You find Cadi beside the stall of a very tall, willowy beast, ears upright and alert, one bulging eye onyx and the other a striking icy blue. Its coat is white with a splattering of rust-colored stains. Even its mane and tail are comprised of alternating strands, dark, light, earth, clouds, cocoa powder, granulated sugar.

“His name is Patches,” Cadi tells you proudly as she pets the leviathan’s velvety muzzle. “He has a wall eye. And he’s a real handful and usually they only allow the experienced campers to ride him, but they let me try and he listened so well I got to keep him all week!”

“Wow, that’s incredible! Good job! Did you learn a lot about how to take care of him?”

“Yeah. They taught me how to feed Patches and clean his hooves and put a saddle on him. And how to hit him with a hairbrush when he tries to bite me.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Right. Okay.”

“Can we buy him? He’s for sale. Probably because of all the biting.”

“Who, Patches?” You definitely cannot afford to board a horse; and then you remember the new house. “I’ll think about it.”

Cadi peeks around you. “Daddy isn’t here too?”

“No, honey, I’m sorry. He had to work. But he really wanted to see the horses and he is looking forward to hearing all about your adventures.” This is a lie—Willis seems only dimly aware of the concept of a horse camp, and he is staunchly incurious by nature—but a compassionate one.

Cadi accepts the explanation readily enough. “Alright. Is Aemond your boyfriend yet?”

“Um.” You thread the horse’s forelock through your fingers to buy yourself time. It seems unwise to try to deceive her again; Cadi will learn about Christabel sooner or later. “No, we’re still just friends.” You pause. She watches you, knowing there’s more. “Actually, he’s getting married this month.”

“What?!” Cadi is shocked, but she’s outraged too. “To who?!”

“To a nice lady named Christabel. And I’m sure they’ll be very happy together.” Another lie. And you think for the first time: If I settle for being Aemond’s mistress, if I let it tear me to pieces…what am I teaching Cadi?

Your daughter doesn’t say anything for a long time. She pets Patches’ speckled face, her own expression tense and thoughtful, lines and worries that should be far beyond her age. At last she says quietly: “Is it because of me?”

You are mystified. “What, honey?”

“Is the reason why you and Aemond can’t get married because of me?”

There is a flash of crimson wrath in your skull—protective, animalistic, wronged on her behalf—but no one to direct it at. “No. No, absolutely not. Why would you say that?”

Cadi shrugs, and you recognize it as her self-preservation, faux-flippant shrug. “I don’t know. One time I heard Michelle’s mom talking about how no decent man wants to deal with some other guy’s kids. And that’s me when I’m at your house. Another guy’s kid.”

Oh, fuck you, Janet. “No,” you say again. “Aemond likes you a lot, Cadi. He cares about you.” He picked out a house that could accommodate a horse for you. “You’re the opposite of a problem. He actually likes me more because of you, I think.”

“Okay.” And she’s relieved, although she’s trying not to show it. “Then why is he marrying someone else?”

“Well…it’s complicated.”

“Complicated how?”

Where the hell do I start? “Aemond and I are very different people,” you tell Cadi. “And we want different things out of life. We like to spend time together, but that doesn’t mean that we’d be able to share our whole lives…homes, careers, values, everything. His family has a lot of expectations of him that I don’t feel right supporting, but Aemond wants to respect their rules. And, you know. He’s a robber baron.”

“But he doesn’t talk about Jade Dragon Energy or oil around me. He talks about history.”

You sigh, watching dust motes swirl through the hot, sunlit stable air, listening to horses nicker and huff. “I know, honey.”

“I don’t even think he wants to be a robber baron. I think he wants to be something else.”

“Like what?” you ask, picking stray bits of yellow straw out of her short, disheveled hair. And remarkably, Cadi tolerates this.

“I don’t know, just…just…” She battles with the words, then finds one she likes. “Free, I guess. Just free.”

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n

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tiredmamaissy · 10 months

Note

omg we need a high issy talks with ralak

In honor of 5098 followers I thought I’d do my first Ralak Drabble (although this is more of a fic honestly) this isn’t my best work because I wrote this piece by piece over a period of time

MNDI 🔞 sex pollen, size kink, thigh riding, p in v

Ever since Ronal and Tsireya found out how knowledgeable you are about the herbs of pandora - thanks to your grandmother - they’ve recruited you for training to be a healer. Ralak, who just so happens to be your first patient, has done nothing but boast about your skills to Tonowari. Albeit few words, he’s made it clear to the Olo’eyktan that you are more than capable of some of the most beneficial tasks.

Weaving. Sewing. Healing.

It had become obvious where you would fall into place in the clan now that you’ve passed your iknimaya - right next to ronal in the healing hut. Let’s not forget to mention how ecstatic Kiri was to have you by her side as well. Ralak was more than happy when you told him the news of your newfound position in his - your, village. So much so that he often encouraged you to have an early start to your day, welcoming you into the new day with breakfast in bed as per usual.

Today seemed to just be another day.

“Wake up, tanhì. Big day ahead of you.” Ralak hums lowly, nudging you awake with one hand whilst the other holds a platter of fruit and steamed buns.

Your eyes burn as they struggle to open, brows scrunching together when the first ray of sunlight shines in your face. Village life didn’t start this early back home. You groan as you sit up and shuffle back into the wall of marui, watching through squinted eyes as Ralak carefully places the tray on your lap.

For a moment, you’re confused. Unsure of what big day you have ahead of you. “Big day?”

“My numeyu. We must work on your memory next.” He chuckles to himself, turning his heel to walk toward a makeshift closet near your marui door. He retrieves his favourite top of yours, crimson leaves secured together with the finest, most durable thread in Awa’atlu. As he turns around and makes his way back over to you with a slight smile, he utters the accented words. “Today you go inland with Ronal.”

“Ah, yes.” You nod as the words slip from your tongue, raspy and gruff. He places the top next to you on the cot, hand tucking a strand of hair behind your ear on its way back to his side.

How could I forget?

After a few weeks of training with Ronal, she determined you fit to accompany her and the rest of the healers inland to gather supplies and herbs. Only the most equipped were allowed inland - strong warriors and healers, like Ralak, who lead most parties heading that direction.

“Are you coming, too?” You ask with full cheeks, voice perking up as you shovel your breakfast in.

“Not today.” He smiles wide, moving swiftly towards his spears, meticulously displayed with pride. “Today, I relax.”

Surprised that he’s not choosing to loom over you like a child, your brows jump as the jelly-glazed corner of your mouth pulls into a slight smirk. You nod as you hurry to gulp down your last bite of food, back of your hand wiping your mouth clean. “If anyone deserves to relax, it’s you lak.”

“Ah.” He chuckles, chucking the spears over his shoulder, “I only stay because wari is going with you.”

“Of-course.” You mumble under your breath, rolling your eyes to land them on the top laid out beside you.

——

The trek inland is nothing to graze over. The foliage is so thick and luscious. It’s been a while since you’ve seen so much blue and purple - so much flora. It’s mesmerizing, hearing the faint calls of the hiding fauna around you. Ironically, you felt like a fish out of water back at the shore, and more at home the further you ventured into the thick jungle. Ronal and Tonowari stay far ahead of everyone, guiding you all towards a small clearing. Everyone kept up great.

Except you.

Being smaller than the average na’vi had its benefits, and keeping up with a crowd just wasn’t one of them. You find yourself at the back, stumbling and tripping over your own two left feet. And it didn’t help that there was a large, heavy bag strapped to your back either. Despite the obstacles in your way, you were able to keep the rest of the group in sight.

Ronal would look back at you now and then, checking that you were still in some sort of close distance. She wasn’t the most patient with you, nor the rest of your family. She was pretty much tolerating you under the order of her mate, and out of respect for Ralak. She’d stop the party to gather a few herbs, taking the chance to teach a lesson or two. After each harvest she’d project her voice over the crowd, describing the appearance and properties of her herb and most of all - what not to pick.

There was a few things to stay clear of. A large, spiked red vine, as it causes blindness. A blue, short and stubby mushroom, as it causes severe stomach pains. And a lilac flower with open petals and a deep blue stem. If the petals were closed, the gas would be held inside the plant, keeping its stimulant properties under control. Once bloomed, and if even touched, the effects would set in within 10 minutes.

A few na’vi asked what exactly would happen, but Ronal would only answer with a stern voice.

“It is an itch you cannot scratch. There is no antidote. Do not touch it, no matter how pretty. It is beautiful for a reason. Do not be fooled.”

The sea of na’vi mumble among themselves, keeping their chins tucked to their chests to keep an eye out for the few forbidden flora. Meanwhile, you’re too caught up with trying to keep up with the crowd and not get lost that you didn’t realize you were indeed already lost.

However, you aren’t as lost as you originally thought. You’re in an area familiar to you and Ralak - the jungle behind the cave.

Your sputtering feet come to a standstill, hands flying to your knees for support as you catch your breath. You look around, scanning the familiar bearing fruit trees and vines connecting the thick canopy together. You often came here when you felt homesick, except you were a bit further out than you usually go. You drop your head, beads of sweet dripping from your forehead onto your feet. For a moment, your vision blurs, toes buried in the tall blades of grass doubling in number.

“Whoa.” You huff out, blinking repeatedly in an attempt to see clearly. And as everything merged together, the image of a beautiful, blossomed lilac flower brushing against your ankle becomes clear as day.

“Shit.” You curse under your breath, reflexively retreating your foot until you’re tumbling back onto your behind. With your hands supporting your torso and your legs open, you have a clear view of the most breathtaking flora you’ve ever seen. And honestly, had Ronal not warned you about it, you would’ve picked it immediately. Instead, you back away, scuffling on all fours to get back on your feet so you can dart towards your marui.

“Oh shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.” You blabber as you run as fast as your two left feet can go, absolutely drenched in sweat. You feel like you can’t even breathe. As if your throat was closing up. You grit your teeth, preparing yourself for the worst rash and itch of your life. Surely yalnabark will fix you up. Or maybe Kiri has some sort of concoction that she can smear all over you. Or perhaps -

“There is no antidote…” Ronals warped and distorted voice cuts off your train or thought.

“Fuck. I’m so fucked. So, so fucked.” You mumble to yourself, words slurring together as if you had a little bit too much pxir (alcohol).

Alcohol.

Ralak.

Surely he would know what to do. He always knows what to do. Right?

The thud of your feet grows louder as you near your marui - bright orange and blue decorative material shining through your hazy vision. You feel like calling out for him right now. To scream his name so he can find you and make it all better. But when you open your mouth you can’t find your voice to speak.

You focus your energy on getting back home, jumping over the large jutting roots until your toes sink into the coarse sand. You’re here. Ralaks scent is confirmation of that. You can smell him from here and all you want and to do is bathe yourself in it. Snout following the scent of your mate, you outright float towards the source. And then it hits you.

The strangest inching sensation you’ve ever felt in your entire life. It’s like a low sting, pricking your skin and opening your pores, allowing even more sweat to seep out. A tingle right under your skin yet deep in the tissue. An itch you couldn’t scratch. It radiates most from the place right between your shoulders and -

Legs.

“Wait. Already?” You mutter, feeling something wet smear on your inner thigh as you slither under the flap of your Marui. Has it been that long? There’s no way your heat could come this early. So what is this? The effects of the flower? The sound of your own chattering teeth snaps you out of your deep thought.

You look ahead of you, seeing Ralaks aura around him, still and unmoving as he sleeps peacefully. Soundly. Your unsuspecting mate. Naked and exposed before your two glazed eyes. His chest moves slowly - rhythmically. And as your blurred vision trails down, you’re able to make out the definition of his muscular thighs, despite them being unflexed and completely relaxed. He’s in such a serene state. It’s probably the first nap he’s had in weeks.

Yet your legs keep moving on their own, creeping closer as you stalk your prey. That area between your thighs craved satiation. Craved a stimulation that only something as thick and firm as his thigh could provide. It’s clean and bare, slightly damp from his bath. And when the image of your slickened folds pressed firmly against it floods your mind you can’t help but squeeze your thighs closer together as you approach your mate.

At this point your vision is completely blurred and your heart is galloping at the rate of a direhorse. All you can think about is how good he’d feel between your legs.

So you allow yourself the pleasure.

The pleasure of climbing on top of his large physique and settling yourself comfortably on this lap. Your cunt is pressed so firmly against his thigh that your wet folds have no other choice but to spread, exposing your clit. And when your hot clit finally makes contact with his thigh you let out a sigh of relief, although it come out as a breathy moan.

Your eyes fall shut, hands scrambling around to find some sort of support when they finally land the curve of his waist. Your hips begin to move by themselves, humping at his thigh like an na’vi experiencing their first heat. Heat. It feels that way. Just without the intense brain fog and overwhelming need to be filled. This is more of an itch most concentrated right on the bundle of nerves above your leaking slit.

And the more you grind into him the more relief you feel.

“Tanhì… what are you doing?” Ralak croaks, looking up at you through furrowed brows.

His hoarse voice would have surprised you if you weren’t so caught up with using him like some sort of sex toy. His muscles provided just the right amount of pressure, but when he suddenly shoves his leg upwards you outright cry out in unadulterated pleasure. “Oh - fuck!”

“So. You see my cock and go for my thigh, hm?” Ralak laughs. A loud, short laugh of amusement. But when he sees your fucked out face, pinched brows and drool dribbling down your chin, his laugh fades out into a huff. His jaw clenches and unclenches as he watches your tiny frame work so hard on his thigh of all places. He loves to see you like this. Taking whats yours. Doing it all on your own and doing such a good job at it. The sight makes him hard in seconds, cock springing up to slap against your stomach.

“Answer me, my little one.” He hums, eyes trailing up and down your dark blue, slender frame.

You can’t. Not when you feel this good. His thigh is like ice on a burn.

“Tanhì.” He lets out a deep growl, hands darting to grip your hips tightly.

“It’s itchy lak! It’s r-really itchy!” You blurt out, eyes snapping open to meet his lustful, yet worried gaze.

He watches for a while, a little surprised by your aggressive advances. He loves when you wake him up like this, but something was a little… off.

“Itchy?” Ralak echoes your word, sitting up to nuzzle his nose into your neck for a quick whiff. To his surprise, you smell like -

Nothing. Your natural scent. No pheromones. Just his usual Tanhì, like the Navi of the forest. Yet you look like you’re in the thick of your heat.

“Fuck! Don’t move!” You shout, shoving him back down onto his back to hump at his thigh even harder.

He looks down at his thigh, watching as it’s completely coated and covered in a glossy layer of your slick, so much so it’s practically dipping onto his bed. It makes his stomach tighten, painfully hard cock now oozing it’s own slick onto his length.

“But you already had your heat.” He spits the words, too mesmerized by the way your pussy lips are rubbing against his skin.

“I-I I don’t know! I’m sorry!” You cry out, tears welling up in your eyes until they have no where to go but down your cheeks.

“Don’t - don’t be.” He reassures you, sliding a hand down his thigh until his thumb presses against your swollen clit. “What did you eat?”

Your body grinds into his touches, desperate for relief to this maddening itch. “N-Nothing!”

You’re so close.

“…what did you touch? A flower?” He asks in a serious tone, voice bouncing from the mere force of your thrusts.

“Y-Yes! A purple flower - it touched my leg. I - oh, lak. ‘Ts so itchy. ‘M s-so close!” You outright whimper, slowing your thrusts so they’re short and rough. “Please! C-Can’t you make it stop?”

“I cannot. It is aphrodisiac. No antidote.” He states, eyes glued to your cunt rubbing against him. “You have to…“ his grip on your hips tightens, shifting you over so your cunt is flush against his rock hard, warm cock. “…ride it out.”

He begins thrusting his hips, allowing his length to glide back and forth against your clit, right between your slippery pussy lips. His fingers dig into your skin, leaving little marks behind on the dips of your hips, using them as leverage to… help you out.

With you rolling your hips into him, and him grinding his cock into you, you can’t help but let loose the budding tension in your core.

“G-Gonna cum!” You moan, feeling the heated coil snap in two.

“Cum. Cum for me, tanhì.” He groans, angling his hips just right so he can slam his entire cock inside of your tight cunt. “Let me feel it.”

The sudden stretch has you whining and whimpering, body desperately trying to adjust to his size all while being pushed over the edge. Your orgasm washes over you like a cool waterfall on a hot day, momentarily satiating that itch deep within your core.

“Shit.” He grunts, eyelids fluttering shut to focus on how tight your cunt is squeezing him. “So tight. So tiny.”

“Ralak!” His name rolls off your tongue so effortlessly, your gummy walls throbbing around his cock as you continue to ride out your high. He holds you tightly, supporting you as your body trembles in top of him, thumb swiping your pulsating clit at a merciless pace. It’s all so overstimulating, too much but not enough all at once.

You just came yet you need more. The itch is still there and it’s only getting more intense the more you sink down onto his cock.

“N-Need more. Please. Need more!” You whine needily, rolling your hips in a circle so his tip is massaging into your cervix.

“Easy tanhì. Take your time.” Ralak chuckles, swiftly laying you on your back to have his way with you.

——

#high issy talks #ralak #ralak smut #awow smut #avatar smut #metkayina smut #metkayina x omaticay smut #size difference #age difference #avatar oc smut #oc smut #sully reader #sully reader smut #sully reader x oc smut #sully reader x oc

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holly-the-trash-writer · 1 year

Text

Stars in Her Eyes

Eleventh Doctor x Fem!Reader

Written for an annonymous ask. I hope you enjoy it!

Synopsis: When Y/n prefers to stay in bed instead of going on an adventure, the Doctor does everything he can to cheer her up.

Word Count: 1,275

A/N: Taking requests for Eleven fics!! xo

“So, where to next? Eh?” The Doctor bounced on his toes as he flicked switches on the console, “I know a great planet in the Mutter’s Spiral where the grass is pink, the sand is crystal and the sea is purple.”

He turned to face Y/n who was sitting on the glass stairs, she was looking down at the ground her hand held her head as she wrested her arms on her legs, her eyebrows were furrowed, lips down in a frown.

“Why is your face like that?” he frowned.

Y/n was broken out of her thoughts, “What?”

The Doctor wiggled his fingers at her face, “You’re all scrunched up. It looks weird. Stop it." He comes over to her and grabs both hands softly, “Come on. Anywhere in space and time. Where do you want to go?”

She thought for a moment before slowly standing, “I think... I want to go to bed.”

The Doctor stopped, “Bed? All of time and space and you want a nap?”

She nodded and turned to make her way up the stairs, her movements sluggish, “Yeah.”

The Tardis dinged and he span to look at the console, “I didn’t do anything!”

She then whirred harshly and the Doctor raised his hands in surrender, “Alright. What do you suggest we do?”

With a final mechanical whir, the Doctor grinned, he clapped his hands and kissed the glass, “Oh, you beauty.”

He turned and ran down the glass steps, clapping his hands while running to the kitchen, “Okay. I need, I need, I need recipes, a large chef’s hat, a green whisk, an apron that says kiss the cook and Mary Berry. We have work to do.”

With Mary at his side, they baked up a storm; cookies, brownies, apple tarts, jelly babies and a large box of Jammie Dodgers. He did get the side eye from Mary when he made fish fingers and a bowl of custard.

Mary smiled as the Doctor led her back out of the Tardis again, “You know, dear. I’ve never seen you so smitten before.” she took the Doctor’s hand and patted it with her own, “She must be very special.”

The Doctor grinned and kissed her hand, “The most special girl in the world.”

“Until next time, Doctor.”

After Mary left, he leapt round and ran to the console, “Come on then, old girl, let’s show our girl some stars.” He flipped the lever with a hyper, “Geronimo!” as he trusted the Tardis to guide them to the perfect spot.

Y/n was curled up in bed, not sleeping, not thinking, just lying there. She felt so silly. Lying in bed moping when there was the most amazing man out there who was ready to show her things that she’s never even dreamed of. An alien who owned her heart as she owned both of his. Someone who would do anything for her and instead of being with him she was lying in bed MOPING.

She was startled out of her pity party by five swift knocks on her door before it opened and the Doctor poked his head in.

“Hello!” he grinned.

His smile was infectious and she couldn’t help but smile back, “Hello.”

“How do you feel? Better?”

Y/n sat up, “Yeah a bit.”

The Doctor clapped, “Good. Put a coat on and let’s go.”

“Where?”

He grinned and booped her nose, “If I tell you, it won’t be a secret. Coat. Now.” he clicked his fingers and like a whirlwind he was gone again.

Curiosity got the better of her and she got up, pulled on her trainers and a jacket before running out after him.

He was standing waiting for her by the door of the Tardis, leaning against the door, arms folded and a smirk gracing his lips. When he saw her running down the stairs his hearts skipped.

“What are we doing, Doctor?” she smiled gently as she walked over to him.

He held out his hand, “Trust me?”

“Always.” she reached out and placed her hand in his, feeling him squeezing tight as he pulled her out the door of the Tardis.

Y/n gasped as she looked around. They were on the planet that the Doctor told her about. The crystal sand, purple water, the grass on the hills were bubble-gum pink and she stared in complete awe. The moon was high in the sky which made the crystals twinkle like stars.

“Oh, my, Doctor.” looking around she saw he was standing a few feet away. A large blanket at his feet and a wicker basket. “Doctor?”

He waved her over enthusiastically before sitting cross-legged on the blanket.

Y/n walked through the grass and sat next to the Doctor on the blanket. “Is this... are we... Doctor is this a picnic?”

The Doctor rolled his eyes, “Of course it’s a picnic what else could it possibly be?” He gave Y/n a look up and down, “Are you sure you’re alright.” he took out his sonic screwdriver and scanned her up and down before Y/n slapped it away.

“I’m fine, Doctor.” she shrugged, “I just didn’t take you for a picnic kind of... alien.”

The Doctor fidgeted as he took out things from the basket, “Well, this isn’t for me.”

Y/n frowned, “What?”

“I know you love stars.” The Doctor whispered.

Y/n’s heart almost burst, he took her here to try and cheer her up. She smiled as she pointed to the sand, “They do look so much like stars.”

The Doctor chuckled, “No, darling.” He slowly leaned forward and gently placed his hands on her cheeks and he tilted her head up.

She gasped.

The sky was impossible. She could see galaxies, the swirling of colours, the stars. Oh, she’s never seen anything like it. It was like she could reach out her hand and touch the sky.

And that was the feeling you always have when you’re in love with the Doctor.

The Doctor was smiling as he watched her eyes fly around the sky, trying to take everything in at once. Committing it all to memory so she could never forget it.

The stars reflected into her eyes and they sparkled like the brightest galaxy. The Doctor’s jaw dropped as he realised that he was gazing at the most beautiful thing in the world. The most beautiful thing in every world.

“Oh, Doctor. It’s beautiful.” she breathed.

The Doctor never looked away from her face, “Yes, it is.”

Y/n looked at him and chuckled. “Doctor! You’re not even looking.”

He gently rubbed his thumbs against her cheekbones, “I don’t need to.”

“Because you’ve seen it before?”

The Doctor chuckled, “No. I’m already looking at the most beautiful thing. It’s sitting here, right here in front of me.”

Before Y/n could stutter out a reply the Doctor leaned forward and pressed his lips to her ear, “I’m going to kiss you now.” He whispered slowly, his voice deeper than usual.

He pulled back and leaned into Y/n’s space, capturing her lips in a deep kiss. The feeling of her lips against his own made him want to give her the sun if she asked for it. Even if she didn’t, he would still give it to her.

He tangled his long fingers into her hair, the other stayed cupping her cheek as she clutched the lapels of his jacket.

That’s where they stayed, neither of them sure how long.

Kissing under the stars.

Sharing fish fingers and custard.

Eating Jammie Dodgers while lying side by side, hand in hand, to stare at the sky.

The Doctor and Y/n.

The greatest love story in the universe.

Y/n moaned as she ate a brownie, "Doctor! This tastes amazing! There is no way you made this!" she giggles.

The Doctor grinned as he took his own bite, talking with his mouth full, "If I told you who did, you wouldn't believe me."

#11th doctor #doctor who x reader #eleventh doctor x y/n #eleventh doctor x reader #doctor who #eleventh doctor #eleventhdoctor #fanfiction

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tashacee · 5 months

Note

Yay permission to yell about the fic!

Alright three things:

1. Wild's feelings about his failure or not living up to expectations. Hooo boy some of the heroes are going to have words about that. Wind (who wasn't considered worthy until he literally glued the Triforce of Courage back together himself), Legend (may have saved the Wind Fish but doomed an entire dream world in the process. Also knows Ravio, who's a bit of a failed hero in the context of his story) and Time (had to be put to sleep for seven years to wield the Master Sword, and then gets treated like none of that happened afterwards) in particular come to mind.

2. Wild: omg they can't see me without my mask on or they'll hate me 🥺 Wind: Dude, you could look like a Chuchu jelly for all I care if you keep cooking like this I will love you forever. (He would love Wild even if he couldn't cook, I mean just look at the sad little meow meow)

3. Spirit mentioned! (I too have fallen for the propaganda) This is an Aspects thing, but if they do manage to "fix" the Aspect, I want some of the heroes to demand he wear it whenever they meet a new hero because "we went through it and so they have to now too (also it will be funny)". Then when they meet Spirit they're all like "hello we are all eight blonde guys named link and this seven foot tall cat man also named link"

:D :D :D :D

okay SO

1 - OHHH YEAH. Wild has a LOT of of internalised guilt over things that were not his fault and his brothers are going to have things to say about that. So many of them have thought at ssome point that they aren't worthy and they all are working on accepting that actually? They are worthy and deserve better.

There are gonna be a lot of hugs.

2 - Wind loves Wild. He loves his cool new brother. Today's chapter is gonna have a Wind bonding section and i can't wait because. These boys are just the most brother, your honour. I love them.

3 - Spirit is wonderful and i love him. I actually have PLANS for how he will make an appearance in Aspects (it is HAPPENING) and i cannot WAIT.

I'm so glad you've enjoyed!

#it me #replies #mask!wild #hero’s aspect au #hero's aspect

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icarusignite · 6 months

Note

Can you make a part 3 to “Like an old melody, my heart resumes”? Part 2 was so angst and I love angst. Daeron literally showed deep down of his is green and that was really canon. Can we see jealous Daeron in part 3? Thank you for your effort to write this beautiful fic.

Like an old melody, my heart resumes | Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

A/N: i have risen from the dead to write a part 3 for this. sooo sry for the immense delay 💀😭😭😭 i have tried to deliver some more angst and jelly daeron, but since this is the final part, it does have a happy end. Hope u enjoy <33

Word Count: 5.2k

Pairing: Daeron x Fem! Reader | (angst, hurt/comfort, happy end)

In the Red Keep, preparations for the impending nuptials of the youngest prince, Daeron, were in full swing. The castle was a beehive of activity, with every corner bustling with servants, artisans, and nobles, all working tirelessly to ensure that the wedding would be a spectacle of grandeur and opulence.

The castle's kitchen staff worked around the clock, concocting mouthwatering feasts that would delight the most discerning palates. Roasts, game meats, and freshly caught fish were all being prepared with the utmost care and attention to detail. The scent of roasting meats and freshly baked bread wafted through the corridors, creating an irresistible allure for anyone who passed by. Meanwhile, seamstresses and tailors toiled away to create the most breathtaking wedding attire for the royal couple.

Yet, amidst the bustling activity, a strange tension hung in the air. It was no secret that the Prince and his betrothed had been spending their days avoiding each other. The once inseparable duo had inexplicably distanced themselves from one another. The nobles, who had overheard the heated argument between the two of you just days prior, couldn't help but gossip and speculate about the cause of your sudden estrangement.

Rumours spread like wildfire throughout the castle, with many whispering that your engagement might be on the brink of collapse. The nobles were eagerly waiting for any sign that the young couple's love had soured, as it presented a golden opportunity to push forth their own sons and daughters as potential candidates for marriage with the Targaryen family. It was a chance to secure their own family's prestige and power.

You, consumed by uncertainty and internal turmoil, found solace in Helaena. She was a gentle and kind-hearted soul, but despite her best efforts to console you, and assure you of her brother's love, your restless mind seemed insurmountable. After all, Helaena wasn't there when he called you a bastard, when he called your mother a whore. You could never forgive him, but it still made you ache in a way that felt like someone was scraping a rusted fork across the walls of your heart, repeatedly slow. Still, you allowed Helaena to fill your head with her sweet words, spending hours with her strolling through the gardens.

Your unease was unrelenting. As the wedding day drew nearer, you contemplated the possibility of confronting King Viserys himself and refusing the marriage altogether. Yet, the sight of the aging king's unwavering joy and anticipation for the upcoming celebration filled you with guilt. Every time he saw you, he spoke animatedly of his excitement and blessings for the wedding and the prospect of disappointing him and the entire realm felt like an unbearable weight on your shoulders. It felt as though someone had tied iron weights to your feet and cast you into a seemingly bottomless ocean.

To add insult to injury, you were well aware of what the other nobles said behind your back. The rumours of you and your siblings being bastards started circulating with renewed ferocity, and with everyone hoping for your engagement to fail, a part of you wanted to prove them right and end it right then. It was clear that your so-called betrothed couldn't care less for you as he had not even come to see you once. Even during meal times, one of you always managed to come up with some excuse to avoid attending, and you hadn't seen him since the day he had irreparably broken your heart.

"What's gotten into you, brother? You look as if you've been denied your favourite wine."

It was Aegon, standing against his younger brother's doorframe, his arms crossed and an amused expression on his face. Daeron sat at his writing desk, a dark cloud over his countenance. His frown grew at his brother's words.

"Not everyone is a drunkard like you brother!"

Aegon lifted his hand to his chest in mock offence, a mischievous glint in his eyes. His grin grew wider and he quirked an eyebrow, wanting to tease Daeron even more now.

"Well, you certainly are in a foul mood. Have a little lover's spat with your beloved betrothed?"

Daeron's head snapped up, his eyes flashing with irritation. "Don't speak her cursed name," he hissed through gritted teeth, his voice laced with venom.

"Ha! Cursed is she now? What, was she not fun to bed?"

Daeron's blood curdled at hearing Aegon speaking that way about you but the resentment he harboured against you outweighed that and that is why he let the next words slip past his lips.

"As if I'd want to bed the likes of her."

Aegon rolled his eyes, "You are going to be married to her. You can't not bed your own wife."

"She'll call off the wedding. She'd be stupid not to."

Aegon's amusement evaporated as he studied his brother's face, searching for any trace of jest in his words. However, Daeron's expression remained deadly serious, and the raw emotion in his voice was unmistakable. Aegon took a step closer, his playful demeanour replaced by some semblance of concern.

"Do you want her to call it off?"

Daeron shrugged, "It will be for the best."

"Then call it off."

"What?"

"If you don't want to marry her, call it off," Aegon pointed out matter-of-factly.

Daeron almost laughed. Aegon was a fool but sometimes he let slip the occasional kernel of wisdom.

"If you really didn't want to marry her, you'd call it off yourself," Aegon repeated. "My brother is a lot of things, but he is no coward."

Daeron did laugh this time. Aegon was wrong. He was a coward. He was the biggest coward. Of course, he wanted to marry you, and he would never break off your betrothal but he was a coward. He wanted you to be the one to end it so he could blame you for yet another thing.

"I mean, you might as well call it off so the rest of the fine lords vying for her attention can finally have a chance."

"Pardon?"

"Don't be daft. Surely you must have noticed, the sudden influx of nobles milling about the Red Keep. The unfortunate state of your relationship is no secret and there are plenty of lords who would give an arm and a leg to be our half-sister's son-in-law."

"No..." Daeron blinked, an unpleasant feeling blooming in his chest. "She wouldn't-"

"You react to her as if she's a plague. Do not delude yourself into thinking that she cannot find a man better suited to her," Aegon winked at him. "Who are you to deny her if she can find a man who brings her greater pleasure."

"Don't be foul!"

"I only speak the truth brother. Either accept it or change it."

Daeron let out a long sigh and leaned back in his chair, his eyes gazing out the window at the moonlit courtyard below. "You don't understand," he began, his voice more resigned than angry. "You don't know about the false accusations she made...and the things I said to her in retaliation. There is no fixing this."

"False accusations? What, did she catch you with some kitchen maid and accuse you of being unfaithful? Tell your dear future wife-to-be that it is simply the nature of men," Aegon drawled sarcastically.

"I would never do that!" Daeron protested sharply.

"Oh, don't act like you're better than me. Surely you must have had plenty of bedmates in Oldtown. Do not lie to your own brother."

"I am not like you," Daeron gritted out through clenched teeth. "I have never...done that sort of thing."

"Liar."

"I am not lying. I have never thought of anyone-"

Daeron paused in the middle of his sentence, not wanting to continue his train of thought.

I have never thought of anyone other than her.

You had been the only thing on his mind. All his life, from the moment he was old enough to know what it meant to want someone, to yearn for someone, it had always been you. All those years in Oldtown, it was the memory of you that sustained him, even when it seemed as though you had forgotten all about him. Now that memory had soured, when he remembered the way you had accused Lord Ormund, a man who had been his father in every way his real father had failed him, which was to say in every way possible.

The next morning, both Aegon and Aemond decided to take their youngest brother on a leisurely stroll through the castle gardens. The idea had been solely Aegon's, and he took the lead, orchestrating the pace and direction of their stroll. Aemond followed, his silence like an imposing shadow. Daeron, still lost in the maelstrom of his thoughts, complied without much enthusiasm. It came as some surprise, to see his oldest brother so invested in his matters but he supposed he should be grateful. In times of emotional turmoil, Helaena was his chosen person of comfort but since you seemed to be permanently glued to her side lately, he had no choice but to give her place to Aegon.

As they rounded a corner, the sound of soft laughter reached their ears. Aegon grinned and continued forward, unperturbed. The laughter grew clearer as they approached, and soon, they emerged into a sun-dappled clearing. There, seated beneath the shade of a massive oak tree, was the last person Daeron expected to see. You sat with your back to him, looking radiant in the warm sunlight as it cast an ethereal glow across your visage. So enamoured was he by you, that it took him a few more moments to notice that you had company. Helaena and another poshly dressed gentleman sat around you. The man was engaged in animated conversation, his hands flying through the air as he spoke. You and Helaena leaned in, eyes alight with amusement as you listened to his tales, your laughter like tinkling bells.

Aegon paused, his eyes scanning the scene. He glanced at his younger brothers, who were somewhat taken aback by the sight before them. He made a subtle signal for them to continue moving, ensuring Daeron would have a clear view of you and the charming stranger. Aemond shot him a questioning glare but he only winked in response.

Daeron watched, his heart clenching as he observed your joy in the company of another man. It was a scene that struck at the core of his misery, causing his own unhappiness to deepen. Then, almost as if taunting him, the stranger leaned forward ever so slightly, his charming demeanour and engaging conversation drawing your attention.

Daeron clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug into his palms. The pain, however, went unnoticed, overshadowed by the searing heat that coursed through him. His heart pounded in his chest, and his jaw was set in a rigid line, as he watched the scene unfold with a mixture of despair and frustration.

He was convinced that the gentleman would lean in to steal a kiss from you, a thought that tormented him beyond measure. It was as if his world had turned to chaos, and he was helplessly witnessing the unravelling of everything he held dear. Blood welled up from the tiny crescents on his palms, but he was oblivious to the physical pain.

However, the stranger's actions took a different turn. Instead of a kiss, he reached forward to brush a stray leaf that had become entangled in your tresses. As his fingers gently traced the contours of your hair, Daeron's heart sank. You looked up at the stranger with a touch of abashment, as he held the leaf aloft, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

It was enough to make your betrothed's blood boil with jealousy. He felt a burning rage that threatened to consume him, and it took all his self-control not to rush forward and confront the stranger, to shake him by the collar and slice through him with his sword.

Aemond scowled at Aegon, understanding to some degree, the mischievous game he was playing as they both watched their youngest brother try and school his expression. He looked like a tightly wound spring, and when Aemond moved to lead them away from the scene, Aegon grabbed his arm and aggressively shook his head. They had to stay. He had to stay and watch you.

The stranger's fingers brushed your hand, and at that moment, all sense of rationality fled from Daeron's mind. His vision blurred, and his heart pounded even louder in his ears. He was so consumed by his own emotions that he didn't notice your immediate reaction.

In that instant, you withdrew your hand from the stranger's touch. A small frown creased your lips, and a glint of discomfort flashed in your eyes. You had only come out to the gardens at Helaena's request, not seeking the unwelcome advances of an amorous suitor. While you may not have been on the best of terms with your betrothed, you were still a woman spoken for, and you found the stranger's egregious flirting quite annoying. You glanced at Helaena who smiled at you placatingly, gesturing at you to remain seated. When you lowered your gaze to the floor, she flashed Aegon a quick scowl, knowing that all three of her brothers stood there watching. Then her eyes widened in alarm at the approaching figure of her youngest brother, his face a twisted mask of fury. His steps were heavy and resolute, and if looks could kill, the poor gentleman would be long dead.

Daeron came to a stop in front of him, his piercing gaze locking onto the stranger's eyes. His chest heaved with each deep breath he took, trying to control the fury that simmered within him. For a moment, he stood in silence, his gaze shifting between you and the stranger, his emotions churning like a tempest.

Then, with a sudden, almost aggressive movement, Daeron reached out and grabbed your hand. His grip was firm, almost painful, as he yanked you up from your seat. The abruptness of his actions took you by surprise, and you looked at him with wide eyes, your expression a mix of shock and confusion.

Daeron, his voice laced with anger and frustration, hissed, "We need to talk. Now."

Without waiting for a response, he pulled you away from the group and deeper into the gardens, his strides long and forceful, as if he were trying to put as much distance as possible between the two of you and the others.

Back in the clearing, Aegon grinned and slapped the gentleman on the shoulder amicably.

"You have my sincerest gratitude for your assistance, Ser Atticus," he winked.

The gentleman, Ser Atticus, smiled and bowed his head at the oldest prince.

"You set this up?" Aemond scoffed. "I should have known, after all, you're not exactly one to enjoy morning strolls in the garden."

"I was only trying to help our dear brother confront his feelings. He will thank me later."

"You better hope this works," Helaena grumbled. "If my niece has been hurt due to your recklessness, you will regret it dearly."

Aegon clutched his heart, "Oh dear sister, you wound me. She is my niece too. I would never wish to hurt her. She will thank me too. This way both young fools will be able to discuss their true feelings."

Meanwhile, Daeron led you away to a secluded corner of the garden, where the lush foliage provided a curtain of privacy. You pulled away your hand from his bruising grip, glaring at him venomously.

"Well then?" you raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Spit it out, you clearly look like you have a lot to say. Do grace us with your words, my prince."

You drawled the words, my prince, mockingly, sneering at him to speak.

"What in the Seven Hells were you thinking? Allowing that man to behave so familiarly with you in public. Are you trying to humiliate yourself, you-"

Daeron did not get a chance to finish before he was slammed against the hard trunk of the massive tree behind him. He stopped short, his breath escaping his lips in a surprised exhale. Then his breath caught once again at your proximity. Your hands fisted his collar, and your eyes blazed with unrestrained fury as you glared daggers at him. Despite your smaller stature, you somehow managed to look down your nose at him.

"Go on then," you seethed, your white-knuckled grip tightening in the fabric of his tunic, looking just moments away from strangling him. "Finish that sentence. What was it you were going to call me? A whore? A bastard? What new word has your drunkard cunt of a brother taught you to use? Let us see your expanded vocabulary now!"

Daeron watched your anger and frustration manifest in your sparkling eyes, and the way your mouth twisted into a deadly grimace. Amid the chaos, a singular, traitorous thought rose in his mind, amidst the anger and confusion that had gripped him.

"Say it so that I may have the pleasure of ripping your tongue from between your teeth with my own hands."

He couldn't help but notice the way the sunlight cast shadows against your face, the way your fiery eyes held a flicker of vulnerability, and the angry tears that clung to your lashes. In that moment, a strange and conflicting desire welled up within him. He wanted to reach out, to brush away the tears and caress your cheek, to taste the anger on your lips, to taste the blood that you would undoubtedly draw.

However, Daeron did none of those things because Daeron was a fool and when he opened his foolish mouth, the words that came out were far from what he truly wanted to convey.

"If you're that desperate for another man's attention, perhaps you should consider calling off our wedding altogether."

Your eyes widened in shock and disbelief, your anger momentarily replaced by a deep hurt. Then you laughed, a burst of brief maniacal laughter that had your betrothed looking at you with a strange expression on his face. You were a fool too after all. You were an utter fool if you thought that after your last argument, there was nothing else Daeron could say to hurt you. You thought you had heard the worst of it, but there was always more. There were always new ways to hurt and Daeron, it seemed, was an expert at finding just the right spaces between your ribs to plunge his dagger into.

"Do it yourself, you coward!" you finally snarled, "or are you too afraid that you'll disappoint your father? Do not worry, you can't disappoint someone who never held any expectations for you."

Now it was Daeron's turn to flinch, your words hitting too close to that soft vulnerable place where his lungs contacted shakily against his ribcage. You scoffed at his speechlessness and slowly let go of his tunic, smoothing it down with trembling fingers, a false smile pasted on your face.

"Careful now, wouldn't want to be seen associating with a bastard, now would you," you smiled broadly. "Be sure to tell the king that you have changed your mind."

You smiled because if you didn't, you would cry and you would be damned if you let him see you cry again. You hit first so it wouldn't hurt when he did it. If you turned it into a joke, then it wouldn't sting when he turned you into one.

Daeron remained rooted in place, watching you walk away from him for the second time that week. It was becoming a habit of his. He felt equal parts guilty and furious, and he didn't quite know how to deal with it.

"Daeron, my boy, it's good to see you. How does it feel to be back at home in the Red Keep?" Lord Ormund's voice was warm and comforting as he reached out to ruffle Daeron's hair affectionately.

Daeron stood awkwardly in Lord Ormund's doorway, stepping inside hesitantly. At his lack of response, the lord's eyes filled with empathy as he guided his nephew to a pair of comfortable chairs near the window. He gestured for Daeron to sit, then called for the maids to bring some refreshments.

"Well, my boy," Lord Ormund began, "you know that you can always come to me when you need to talk. I'm here to listen and help in any way I can."

"Thank you. I needed someone to talk to."

As the maids brought in a tray of refreshments and poured tea for both of them, Lord Ormund smiled, "Now, Daeron, let's take your mind off your worries for a while. How about a game of chess? It might help clear your thoughts."

Daeron nodded, appreciating his uncle's efforts to distract him from his troubles, "That sounds like a good idea. I could use a distraction right now."

As the game of chess progressed, Daeron tried to muster the courage to inquire about the missing letters that you had claimed were purposely hidden from him during his time in Oldtown. He knew he had to tread carefully, as he didn't want to offend Lord Ormund by accusing him based on mere rumours. Daeron respected Lord Ormund deeply and held the belief that he wouldn't intentionally harm him. Nevertheless, he couldn't help but feel the need to confirm the matter for himself.

Taking a deep breath, Daeron broached the subject, his words carefully chosen.

"Lord Ormund, I've been pondering something," he began. "I was wondering if there might have been any chance that some letters were misplaced or overlooked, during my stay in Oldtown."

Lord Ormund paused for a moment, a flicker of unease crossing his features, though it was subtle. He carefully considered Daeron's question and replied, "Well, my boy, it is possible that sometimes letters get misplaced, especially with the volume of correspondence we receive. Is there a particular letter that you are inquiring about?"

"No, not in particular. I was simply wondering. I have a few acquaintances here in King's Landing who claim they were unable to reach me so I thought I'd inquire about the matter."

"Of course. As I said, these things happen from time to time. Communication is lost from time to time. However, you are here now, so you may reassure them in person."

Daeron appreciated his uncle's reassurance but couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. He decided to probe a bit further, maintaining his gentle tone. "I understand, my lord. I don't mean to doubt your integrity, but I've heard certain rumours, and I wanted to clear the air. I trust you completely."

Lord Ormund shifted uncomfortably in his chair, a subtle sign that Daeron didn't miss. He looked down at the chessboard for a moment before meeting Daeron's gaze. "I appreciate your trust, my boy, but there's nothing more to the missing letters. It was a simple case of some misplaced correspondence. Perhaps a page boy or two must be reprimanded when I return, but let's not dwell on it any longer."

Reluctantly, Daeron accepted Lord Ormund's insistence on moving past the subject, and they returned their focus to the chess game. However, the unresolved issue continued to weigh on Daeron's mind, leaving him with a sense of unease that he couldn't easily dispel. He wanted to banish the traitorous thoughts permanently from his head. What kind of person doubted the very person who had cared for him all these years? It felt wrong to doubt Lord Ormund's words, and yet, he couldn't get your tearful pleas to trust you out of his mind.

That evening, Daeron couldn't shake his nagging doubts about the missing letters. Despite his earlier conversation with Lord Ormund, he found himself returning to his chambers once more, resolved to ask about the matter one final time, trusting that he would accept his uncle's word and let it rest.

As he approached Lord Ormund's door, he paused just outside, hesitant to interrupt what appeared to be a private conversation. He couldn't help but overhear the hushed, urgent tones of Lord Ormund and his grandfather, Otto Hightower.

"The boy is getting suspicious," Lord Ormund whispered, his voice tinged with concern. "You better make sure he finds out nothing. I will not have that boy hate me, not when I have raised him and loved him as my own."

"It's not my fault that you weren't able to do a better job at keeping him apart from that woman's daughter. You knew the stakes of their union, Ormund," Otto's response was low and urgent

Lord Ormund's response was laced with emotion, as he vehemently declared, "I didn't even care about keeping them apart. I only cared for my boy's happiness. I did it on your command, in the hopes that he would remain more focused on his duties and education."

In absolute horror, Daeron retreated backward, a sickening sort of guilt washing over him like a tidal wave. The weight of his actions, the hurtful and awful things he had said to you in the heat of anger and denial, began to suffocate him. It filled his lungs and dug its fingers in his throat, drowning him, dragging him under.

He couldn't help but replay the words and accusations he had thrown at you in his mind. The memory of your hurt expression, the anger in your eyes, and the tears he had caused you to shed were a torment to his conscience. He knew that he had pushed you away, possibly irrevocably and that your relationship now lay in tatters.

Daeron couldn't bear the thought of you hating him, but he understood that he had given you ample reason to feel that way. He paced the hallway, the guilt and regret gnawing at him relentlessly. He needed to find you, to make amends, to tell you how deeply sorry he was, and that he would spend the rest of his days trying to make it right, even if he didn't deserve your forgiveness.

His feet led him through the familiar halls of the Red Keep, and he finally found himself standing before your chamber door. He knew you would be furious with him, and he had no idea if you would even open the door, but he couldn't bear the thought of not trying to make amends.

With trembling hands, he knocked on the door, a tentative sound that echoed in the quiet hallway. To his surprise, the door creaked open, revealing your forlorn form standing on the other side. You were still in your day dress, despite the late hour, and your eyes were rimmed with red as if you had been crying.

You scowled at the sight of him, moving to slam the door shut in his face, but he acted quickly, slipping inside before you could complete the motion. His heart pounded in his chest as he realized the enormity of what he had to do.

"Listen," he said your name softly, his voice trembling with emotion. "I... I need to talk to you." He could see you tense as if preparing for another argument, and he quickly added, "I want to apologize. I'm so, so sorry for what I said earlier. I should have believed you. I should have trusted you. I don't know what came over me, but I said terrible things, and I regret it more than you can imagine. I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I need you to know that I'm truly, deeply sorry. I need you to know how much you mean to me."

"Get out," your voice was quiet.

"No...no please just hear me out. I can't leave like this. I am a fool. I am a fool for not trusting you. For taking all the worst things and using them to hurt you, but I didn't mean any of it. I swear it. I-"

You interrupted him, voice edged with anger, "You hurt me, Daeron. You hurt me deeply. I don't know if I can ever forgive you for the things you said."

Daeron's heart sank at your words, but he couldn't blame you for your anger and hesitation. He nodded, swallowing hard as he replied, "I understand. I understand if you can't forgive me, but I can't bear the thought of losing you because of my foolishness."

It was getting harder and harder for you to keep your own tears at bay.

"Please, leave."

Daeron dropped to his knees in front of you, his hands reaching out to clasp yours. His eyes were filled with raw, unfiltered regret.

"I was wrong. I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I love you. I'll spend my life trying to make it up to you...if you'll let me. Please, allow me to be yours, to be better for you."

You were taken aback by the intensity of his remorse and sincerity. You felt conflicted, torn between the hurt you felt and the love you still harboured for him.

"Daeron, please... I need time," you pleaded, voice quavering as you struggled with your own emotions.

Daeron's grip on your hands tightened, his eyes pleading for your understanding, "I'll give you all the time you need. I'll wait forever if that's what it takes. Just give me a chance to show you that I'm the person who deserves you. I love you, and I'll prove it every day, I swear. it"

Your heart softened at the sight of his vulnerable state, his heart laid bare before you. Your resolve wavered.

"Daeron, please," you began, voice faltering.

But before you could say more, Daeron's voice cracked and fresh tears flowed down his cheeks, his desperation reaching a peak.

"I can't lose you. Please, let me make it right. Please, please, please. There is no one in this world I'd rather be with so please, let me just show you."

Your heart stirred, and almost unconsciously, you reached out, wiping away a tear from his cheek. He stilled almost immediately at your touch, leaning into your palm as his chest heaved.

"Get up, Daeron."

When he stood before you once more, you reached out again to brush your fingers against his face tentatively. Daeron, in turn, gently wiped away your tears, his fingers tracing the contours of your face. His touch was tender and filled with adoration, and you couldn't help but melt into his touch. You knew that it was too soon to forgive him completely, that the hurt ran deep and would take time to heal, but you found yourself unable to resist the pull of his emotions.

Your defences were futile in the face of Daeron's adoration. You understood that he had hurt you, that he might do so again in the future, but for now, you loved him, and you allowed yourself to imagine that he loved you too.

Daeron leaned closer, and you felt his lips against your skin as he pressed soft kisses against the tears that stained your cheeks. His touch was apologetic and affectionate, and you felt your heart soften further, allowing yourself to be pulled into his chest.

He held you tight as if he were afraid you might slip away. Your arms encircled him, your head resting against his chest as you listened to the erratic beat of his heart.

You felt Daeron's breath against your ear, and the words he whispered were soft and sincere, "I love you. I'll do whatever it takes to make this right. I will never give you another reason to complain, so please, just stay with me. Just stay, and don't go."

What else could you possibly do? He had asked you to stay, and so, you would stay forever.

Tags: @lady-targaryens-world @uniquecroissant @bitchyunknownuser

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witchofthesouls · 23 days

Text

IDW/MTMTE fic idea,

A cultural exchange is proposed in the Council of Worlds to show a little bit of each other in good faith:

Cancer shows its deep militaristic culture in its oldest tradition: a dance competition. A no-contact sport where partners' tests constantly test each other’s skills: flexibility, speed, reaction time, strength, and coordination. A violent, vicious whirling to the rhythm that's both entertainment and discipline.

No one was surprised by Velocitronians setting up a race track in the city, but this particular style emphasizes acrobatics, flair, and efficiency as speedsters parkour through the infrastructure. This kind of race allows teams who will be judged on collaboration and creativity as many utilize immense drops to act out iconic or playful scenes. One pair had a full gamestation set up in freefall.

The Devisen showed off their food culture, which is dominated by molecular gastronomy. They enjoy playing with properties and compositions of ingredients. Thermal sense is a very popular technique among the locals.

The Eukarian tribes had settled with an art exhibition. The Scale Walkers shown off pottery with fascinating grooves and whorls with patterns of their planet. The Fur Walkers had submitted bone carvings ranging from delicate jewelry of native fauna to intricate designs recreating battles. Guests were able to interact with Cloud Walker furniture: elaborate hanging seats embedded with different textures, designs, and compartments. The Fateweavers sent beautifully woven, silky smooth fabric, each one with its own specific geometric design. The Wave Walkers' exhibit was done in a dark room where visitors watched a reconstruction of how marine life reacts to their sonata. Twinkling jellies, haunting kelp forests, the wild explosion of color from massive reefs, dancing phantomish creatures, and synchronized schools of fish.

Earth demonstrated a surrealistic fashion show based on Marissa Faireborn's observations on what Cybertronians focused on.

The Camiens had invited everyone to come enjoy a sacred rite that embraced all aspects of Solus: a widespread, drug-enhanced sex festival and revel at a monstrous bon fire.

#transformers #transformers idw #idw #mtmte #titans #cybertronian culture #carcer #eukaris #caminus #velocitron #devisiun #tf headcanons #maccadam #fic ideas #my writing #i just really want to go ham on all the Lost Colonies' differences #im back on the fertility rites and sex cults

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v3nusxsky · 1 year

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Hello!

Let me start by saying I love your fics and your style of writing! Thank you for sharing this with all of us :)

Can you write a Larissa x f!reader where reader is on the spectrum, experiences sensory overload, and has a panic attack? Larissa provides comfort/care that the reader hasn't experienced before, and reader let's Larissa physically comfort her (something reader hasn't let anyone do?)

Sorry for the long ask. I just had to leave a job because I was written up for having a sensory overload panic attack, and I could really use Larissa comfort right now.

Thank you :)

Hello my lovely anon! I’m so glad you enjoy my work and I enjoy sharing them with you all. Hearing how much you love them or how they impact you makes my day. I tried to give this my shot <3

I’m here

*Authors note| I adore this prompt and the fact I myself and some of my siblings are either sensory or on the spectrum made it that much more special for me to write. I hope it reaches the dear anon and helps even a little*

Trigger warnings ~ panic attacks sensory overload asd spectrum

Prompt~ see the ask^^^

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

You were diagnosed with Autism spectrum disorder (ASD) at the age of three years old. You knew just how rare that was because it was significantly harder to diagnose in females than males. Lots of younger girls are commonly dismissed because they present differently from the boys with ASD. You also had Sensory Processing Disorder (SPD) which could be quite often coupled with being on the spectrum. In fact SPD was actually on the spectrum just the lower end which is why it made sense that some people would have both. And you were one of them that did.

You were now an adult, all through schooling you had struggled and being an outcast had added to that. That's why when you found Nevermore up couldn't help but fall in love with it. It created safe spaces for those who felt they didn't belong. Perfect for you. Which is why you stayed on to teach after your graduation. Your ability to control and manipulate the weather was rather easy to hide so every year you would be curious to hear the first years try and guess your ability. Some believed you to be psychic, some believed you to be a mind reader and other thought an empath. Truly you were none of those but you could see why they had guessed them.

Nervermore brought you to your girlfriend, Larissa Weems. The principal of Nevermore a stunning, tall, gorgeous shape shifter. You had been so scared to reveal your diagnosis to Larissa, fear of not being accepted by the women who held your heart. But Larissa took you in her arms and reassured you that it didn't change anything and she loved you the way you were. Nothing in the world would change that. You were her Y/n. In fact, when you had fallen asleep, cuddling her like a koala bear, Larissa took out her phone and began to do some research into ASD and SPD hoping to be able to support you. She knew of them but wanted more depth on her knowledge to be able to help you. If you were have a melt down or attack then she would have more of an idea on how to best help you. Since your relationship started, you hadn't really had many issues. But you always knew if you ever did Larissa would be there for you.

Despite knowing that, today when you were mid lesson and everything seemed to be too much you panicked. The class were having partner work tasks to complete when suddenly the room felt too loud, the clothes you had on seemingly scratching at your skin and your control over your ability dwindling fast. You immediately made your way into your desk and fished out one of your sensory balls. The ball Larissa had brought you with multi coloured little jelly balls inside that were only visible when you squeezed it. You even found the piece of fabric you had stolen from Larissa's broken scarf that felt like a childhood teddy you'd long since lost. Normally those items would help you through your sensory overload. But not today. And that small fact was causing panic to surge through you at an alarming rate.

Thankfully the bell sung out releasing the students for their fourth period, unfortunately for you the noise was ten times louder than normal and it had you covering your ears in an attempt to muffle the noise. You had planning period for fourth period which is why you immediately locked your room up and made your way to the room you and Larissa shared. The weather outside changing into a mess of sun rain and storms and as you slept further and further into the panic. Everything becoming too much for you. Your clothes had to go. They felt like little claws scratching at your soft skin so you were quick to rip them from your body as you moved closer into the bedroom. Grabbing your softest blanket you wrapped it around yourself as you paced the floor. Why couldn't you calm yourself down? Was the bell still ringing? Why could you literally hear every little sound? Hell even the sound of your own breathing was too loud.

You quickly threw yourself onto the bed revealing in the soft sheets as you buried your nose into your girlfriends pillow allowing the scent of her to wash over you. Really and truthfully you knew you should've found the older women but everything was too much and you just needed it to stop. However when the door creaked open you knew exactly who would be stood there. Harsh sobs left your body as you muttered apologises to the women about not finding her and failing. She knew if she were to hold you now, the touch would overwhelm you and you would wriggle and squirm in an attempt to separate yourself from it. So she settled for sitting next to you on the bed and reassured you. She was here and you were not alone. She was not mad at you and was so proud that you had taken yourself somewhere you felt safe. The fact you clutched on to her pillow, breathing in her scent made her heart swell.

Only when you whimpered out "rissy hug" did the older women scoop you up and bring you to her chest so you could position yourself in your favourite koala hug. You adored this position, straddling her thighs and arms wrapped around her neck with your head hiding in her neck is where you felt safe. Larissa gently rocked you both knowing just how much you enjoyed that, your little happy sigh being all the proof she needed as she brought her hand to your back to rub slow deliberate circles. She knew how these meltdowns took their tole on your brain and body. Rest was what you needed now and she would gladly provide that for you and more if you needed it.

She already knew she'd get a sub for your last few lessons of the day but when she felt those cute little breaths you did in your sleep against her neck she knew neither of you would be moving from the bed. So she shifted to lay back and allow you to snuggle up to her. Your blanket having fell slightly in the moving showing her that you had been so stressed when your clothes had bothered you. With a small tug of the blanket you were all wrapped up nice and warm and sleeping calmly against her. She loved that she was a safe person for you. That you would actively seek out her physical touch. You had told her you never allow anyone to touch you in these episodes or in the come down and aftermath. The fact you allowed her and even asked for it was just so special. It was here in these moments that Larissa didn't see you with a diagnosis, no she just saw you. Perfect as can be. Her lover and one day her wife. How on earth had others said such cruel words to someone as angelic as you would always remain a mystery to her. It was then her constant soothing circles on your back had began to lull her into a slumber with you.

Word count <; 1385

*Authors note~ all I'm gonna say is I do squirm and wriggle if I'm in sensory overload and I'm touched. It feels like fire honestly so if you are gonna help try to ask what they need*

#fanfic #larissa weems #wednesday netflix #gwendoline christie #larissa x reader #larissa x you #principal larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #principal larissa weems x reader #thanks anon!#lovely anon #anon request #anons welcome

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cutebutalsostabby · 2 months

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Indescribable

Short fic based on @breannasfluff's finish the prompt challenge :) first part, in italics, is Breanna's work. I wrote the second half.

(Tried to match the style and tense but oops in advance.)

-------

Hyrule wipes his forehead and turns to Wild with hopeful eyes. “So? How did I do?”

Wild’s face does this funny thing where it goes through too many emotions at once and ends up scrunched. “Well…six fires in just three hours is your personal best! The only problem is that we’re making fruit salad…”

“I need to cook the fruit!”

“Well, about that...”

“And then there’s that sauce you wanted me to add to it.”

“Which is…warmed in a pan.”

“And don’t get me started on the whipped cream!”

They both turn to look at the jar which once held cream and now holds…chuchu jelly. And maybe some butter.

It’s at this moment that Legend walks in and freezes, sniffing the air. “Do I even want to know?”

“Ledge!” Hyrule grabs a spoonful of something from his bowl and holds it out. “Taste this and tell me what you think!”

The veteran is dubious, but at a nod from Wild, accepts the spoon. Then his face scrunches up because it tastes–

Indescribable.

Indescribable is the word that comes to mind.

Sweet, innocent Hyrule is staring at him with bright, hopeful, expectant eyes, and yet the only word that comes to mind is "indescribable".

No, Legend tells himself sternly, he should at least try to describe the situation happening inside his mouth. If the scattering of pots and pans, the strong odour of burnt cabbages in the air (why?) and the heavy dusting of flour and cinnamon on Hyrule's clothing are any indication, his successor worked hard to produce that deeply indescribable taste. He should at least provide some form of feedback.

Reluctantly, he looks down at the bowl Hyrule is holding, on the off chance that it will offer up some further clues. The ominous sludge inside is a murky, greyish brown, splotched with brackish oil, and right in the middle, Legend thinks he can see...

"Is that... a tentacle?" he asks unwillingly.

Hyrule appears genuinely startled at the question. "Huh?!"

"I think it's a spicy pepper," Wild observes casually from the side. He reaches over with a spare wooden spoon and scoops the offending produce out for inspection. Sure enough, the bright red monster part is revealed and re-identified as a large, whole chilli.

For some reason.

"So?" Hyrule prompts eagerly. "How does it taste?"

"Uh," says Legend. He fishes for relevant words. "Spicy? I guess?"

"You guess?" a crestfallen Hyrule asks.

"Maybe he needs another taste?" Wild suggests sweetly.

And now that Legend's actually looking, he can't help but notice the distinctly vindictive edge to that smile. Obviously, that little shit is in on it. So Legend, of course, does the only thing he can do in that situation.

He lies.

"It's great, Roolie," Legend says cheerfully. "Might be the best thing I've ever tasted. Did Wild teach you how to cook that?"

Hyrule beams. "Yeah!" he replies, in tandem with Wild's emphatic, "No."

They look at each other - Hyrule with confusion and Wild with incredulity.

"Guess Wild still has a lot to learn then," Legend concludes. He claps Hyrule lightly on the shoulder, gives a small, encouraging nod, and rapidly evacuates the premises - a well-trusted problem-solving technique that is yet to fail him, even once.

Left behind to double-guess his scientific method, Hyrule can only glance mournfully at Wild. "That bad, huh?"

"...Let's just start again from the top. Alright?"

#linked universe #lu fanfiction #finish the prompt #lu ftp #lu triple threat #lu legend #lu hyrule #lu wild

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leonsbunny · 5 months

Text

Behind The Moon Shadow

( Ethan Winters x gn!reader || aquarium date fluff !! )

authors note: title is from a song by lamp! also, the information about moon jelly mating can be found here! i got the information quoted word per word from there for this fic!! enjoy (^3^)/

warnings: established relationship, forehead kissing, no usages of (y/n)

The refracted beams of blue reflect off your face, Ethan watches the awe in your features as you stare eagerly into the moon jelly tank. He stares, mindlessly at you, comfortably out of habit. Not at the giant acrylic fish tank encapsulating moon jellies in their own little pod of time. In a way, you were both in your own little pod of time, Ethan thought.

Your eyes shift from the tank to the cutesy-looking plaque adorning its base. Ethan's eyes follow yours. Silently, he reads it to himself. You do the same.

"Oh, ew…." You chuckle to yourself once you finish reading through plaque. "Hm? What is it?" He asks, eyes narrowing down at the plaque. He only skimmed through it, probably not catching whatever you were audibly and jokingly, interjecting about.

You pull his hand close, gently towards you, and point at the plaque. You read it aloud, tracing your finger as you go against the words indented along its metal. "Female moon jelly brood their larvae on their oral arms…" you repeat the words off the plaque, word for word. "Ew…" you both say, which causes Ethan to laugh softly, covering his laugh with his other hand. The one you weren't holding gently yet securely onto, as if he, like the moon jellies in the tank, would mindlessly float away, drifting away from you. Though, that would never happen. Not in a million years.

The both of you laugh softly to yourselves, taking the words "oral arms" off the plaque literally. "They…they don't even have arms!" You say, your dumb yet true remark makes Ethan laugh louder, unable to hold his snorting chortles in any longer. His hand leaves his mouth, letting his laughs mellow out until you're both spent.

You both pant quietly, not that it mattered. Not many people came to the aquarium on weekdays. It took a minute to get that giggly feeling out of your system. Your cheeks still felt stretched from laughing too hard. The smile lines on your face deepened, not that it mattered either. Ethan's did, too. You were both happy in your own little capsule of time.

He palms for your hand again, guiding the both of you to a nearby bench. His hand rests in yours. Instinctively, you lean against his shoulder. His eyes travel up the curved aquarium tank walls. You can see the blues of the tank reflect off his eyes. His eyes were tired, his crows feet were wrinkled up into a soft smile. Though there was a faint smile on his face, it showed more in his eyes. Soft tired eyes smiling up at the drifting waves of the tank, the soft rays of light reflect off of his features. Moon jellyfish mindlessly float around in the tank, some of them crowding together in an almost couple-like fashion. How cute.

"Look, it's us," Ethan softly points out, sticking a finger out at two jellyfish clumped together. Following the artificial waves the tank made to stimulate their ocean home. "You know, they do that when they follow the same current." He explains, reciting what he skimmed through on the plaque in front of the other, less smaller tank. "Kinda like us, huh?" Ethan adds, causing your eyes to soften.

The ambience of the aquarium, the white noise of artificial waves crashing gently against one another, the faint sound of jazz coming far off from somewhere you couldn't pinpoint made everything Ethan was spewing out fuzzier than usual. You didn't know why.

You cup the sides of Ethan's face, looking up at him with softened eyes.

"Yeah, like us." You murmur a kiss onto his forehead. Pulling away to sink back down in your seat. Mindlessly watching the waves and moon jellies alike.

#ethan winters x reader #ethan winters #re8 ethan winters #ethan winters x you #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you #resident evil fluff #resident evil #rebhfun #<3 #boarder credit to @mewryn #!!!#<3<3

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floofymeow · 5 days

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so close to finishing this madatowa fic!!!!!!!!!!!!! Cbcjdjdjskzkzfueies ssjjsjssms

Sitting here like thinking about omegaverse madatowa like guys. I need people to understand this is my Roman Empire. Or rather, how like madatowa fic ideas are my Roman Empire in general. Like I swear these are 1000x for me than anyone else but like im so excited for ppl to read them regardless!!!!!!! If I can write them…… fast….. enough….

It takes everything in me to not just tack on omegaverse onto every madatowa fic from now on btw like im kinda addicted .

Ok anyways tumblr void hear me out here’s like some of them if ur interested lolol

1) madatowa mmorpg fic feat. Friends with benefits, very brief not knowing they are each other in game, and lax modern slice of life au w/o takasato-gumi, phone shenanigans and also on the more mild side

2) madatowa haircut angst short oneshot fic feat. literally just angsty fanon(IM PROJECTING IM LITERALLY PROJECGING) in between of like Towa growing out and cutting off all his bleached hair bc it reminds him of Madarame (END ME )

3) madatowa short oneshot that would just be me once again projecting over how I think they would have met or maybe like what their day to day life was together in the takasato-gumi

4) madatowa seven deadly sins fic which you have to like hear me out; towa is sloth and Madarame is greed and they kinda embody their sin in an alternate world where theyre known for it -> absolutely diabolical in terms of smut content

5) madatowa model towa x new body guard hire au -> so much like reverse power dynamic jgjfdjs gjgjjdssss I literally daydream im like,,, wow,,,,,, towa as a model? He would be a model *swoons*

6) madatowa aquarium au -> THIS ONE IS LIKE. I THINK ABOUT IT SO MUCH. like literally they are just coworkers and it’s once again non takasato-gumi au where Madarame just like—ghosts him post car crash where he loses his eye AND ALSO THEY HAVE THE WILDEST AQUARIUM SEX EVER. Also Madarame would love the penguins whilst towa is big on the jelly fish and the sea plants. And also all the main charas work there with supporting cast coming to visit as guests hshffhjgkssigrieewssss

ok that’s it bye gonna go write <3

#slow damage #surodame #towa #madatowa #floofymeow writes #I’m brainrottjng so hard #like I just wish they were all written NOW. DONE #so I could put them all up on ao3 instantly #but I have to go actually wrote them </3 it’s ok I’ll get faster surely

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yawnzzznnn · 6 months

Note

hi! can i request a yungyu x male reader fic? i couldn’t decide on a prompt but an aquarium date would be sooo cute. ty!

★Under Da Sea - Yungyu★

★Special thanks too: Anon, Yungyu, 8Turn

★Note: sorry this took so long unfortunately I got sick I'm doing a little better my brain is actually in power now so...enjoy also remember to leave a request for my 25 days till Christmas prompts if you'd like a Christmas themed fic

★TW: kissing : bxb : fish : sharks : jellyfish : deep things of water : food : homophobia :

★Words: 728

★Taglist: @bunnie-stay-p1ece @mxlly143

Earlier that week you and your boyfriend of 4 months, Yungyu decided to go to the aquarium. Yungyu cleared his schedule for you, so he had time to take you out for food after the aquarium.

Upon arriving there you met Yungyu by the shark plushies in the gift shop. "Yn!" Yungyu called out for you, your smile grew upon seeing your boyfriend waving and slightly jumping, "hey" you giggled wrapping your arms around his waist, Yungyu blushed and mumbled a small "hi" in your neck. The two of you held hands making your way to the pay for entry section.

Pulling out your wallet from your pocket/bag Yungyu turned and stopped you, taking your wallet from you before pulling out his own and paying for both of you, once you two entered you started giggling causing Yungyu to turn to you confused "your so cute" your mumbled pinching his cheeks, Yungyu blushed a deep shade of pink swatting your hands away.

"Stop" Yungyu whined slightly leaning into your side causing you to laugh a bit louder ignoring the looks of old people judging you and Yungyu's relationship. The two of you pointed at jellyfish passing by, giggling and giving each one a name, "and this one is...hm....Minho" Yungyu said putting his finger on the glass "Why Minho?" You giggled turning to him.

"Not sure he just reminds me of Minho" Yungyu laughed turning to you "your adorable" you said pulling Yungyu into a hug, Yungyu mumbled something into your neck that you couldn't understand, he suddenly pulled back and, grabbed your cheeks, pulling you into a kiss, the old people around you two let scoffs of disgust out and mumbled to each other, Yungyu pulled back ashamed "what's wrong?" You asked grabbing his hand.

Without speaking Yungyu looked around at the people who were judging "oh who cares it's not their relationship, they just think their entitled to everything." You said wrapping your arm around Yungyu's shoulders pulling him towards the next window of fish, Successfully gaining his attention off the negativity.

Yungyu and you were now standing in front of the sword fish laughing giving the fish random voices, "Gyu Gyu!" You laughed "I'm gonna pee myself" you said crouching on the ground, your words caused Yungyu to laugh harder "where's the restroom" he laughed trying to see through the tears in his eyes.

You and Yungyu sat on a bench calming down from your laughing fit "stop thinking about it" Yungyu laughed seeing you start to laugh harder, "I can't help it, I didn't know you could make that noise" you laughed, "me either" Yungyu laughed, the two of you calmed down seeing everyone make there way the front, confused you checked the time.

"Ah there closed" you said showing Yungyu your phone, his eyes falling on your lock screen giggling "when did you take that" he asked looking at the picture of him standing in front of the jelly fish, with one hand on the glass, his body facing you and, his head turned to the side.

You giggled, "when you were naming one you were deep in thought it was cute" you said admiring the photo, Yungyu blushed. Dropping the subject the two of you made your way to a random fast food joint nearby.

The both of your phones put on airplane mode as too not be bothered during your date, "oh right" you said pulling out something from your pocket/bag a small shark keychain "for you" you said, placing it in his hand. He looked up at you confused "a little thank you gift" you said, situating yourself back into your seat. "A thank you? For what?" Yungyu said latching the keychain to his bag.

"For agreeing to date me I guess" you giggled, Yungyu let out a small 'awe' before leaning over the table and kissing you, he sat back in his seat putting his hand on the table, a small squish sound could be heard, causing Yungyu to look down, seeing his middle finger dipped into the ketchup, "oh my gosh" you laughed, helping Yungyu clean his finger. The two of you sat at the joint for an hour or two before packing up and heading home, chosing to have a sleep over at your house.

#x reader #yungyu #yungyu 8turn #yungyu imagines #8turn yungyu #yungyu x reader #yungyu one shot #8turn x reader #8turn scenarios #8turn x y/n #8turn x you #8turn #8turn imagines #8turn Yungyu x reader

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radioactivepeasant · 11 months

Text

Fic Prompts: Meddling Mar Monday

(From a bit later in the story)

The waters surrounding the coastal desert were cool and green, and so undisturbed within the cove that beyond the breakers everything took on a breathtaking clarity. Colorful fish darted back and forth after food, while poisonous eels floated serenely in place beneath the dock, enjoying the shade. Deeper down, the light that filtered through the waves colored the world a watery blue, disguising brighter colors.

Jak kicked his feet and spiraled down to the edge of a slightly sickly coral reef. It seemed to span the entire mouth of the cove, turning it into more of a lagoon. Just beyond, the depth dropped sharply. Jak stared down into an abrupt expanse of dark water and couldn't shake the feeling that something was staring back. He would have expected that to frighten him, or at least unsettle him. But somehow, Jak wasn't afraid. He swam backwards a foot or so, and eagerly scanned the depths for a glimpse of larger animals. He knew he'd seen something from Damas’s tower. Was it watching him now? Was it bigger than even the various species of Lurker Sharks?

Jak had glimpsed the Colossal Shark Brutter kept at the fish cannery once. He'd been overwhelmed by the sheer size of the fish. The idea that creatures so powerful and vast still swam in their waters in spite of everything was really sort of humbling. Brutter kept it in captivity simply because he could think of no way to safely release it without mass casualties. Jak wasn't even sure how he'd caught the thing in the first place.

An orange jellyfish drifted along behind Jak, and its tentacles briefly grazed his shoulder. A jolt of pain, not unlike electricity, shot down his arm. Annoyed, Jak shook the limb out, sending the oblivious jelly tumbling away. Well, they couldn't all be harmless, he supposed. Shrugging off the pain as he always did, Jak made a leisurely climb to the surface to suck in another lungful of air, then dove below again to immerse himself in the jewel colored world beneath the water. A glint of metal caught his eye, yards away, and he grinned. There we go.

When he was a kid in Sandover, there were always orbs washing up on the shore from sunken Precursor cities and research stations. Surely, the Wastelanders couldn't have found all of them.

While nowhere near the tens of orbs he and Daxter used to scoop out of the shallows, the orb Jak found encrusted with barnacles was worth perhaps thrice as much as it had been when he was Mar’s age. Satisfaction filled his chest as he examined the sand-scoured weight. This would at least give them a start on buying enough food and water to last the week. Jak carefully slid the orb into the pouch he'd made out of his scarf, taking care not to damage the two small conch shells and three cone shells he'd already picked up. An orb wouldn't do him much good if it smashed his rent payment, now would it.

Though he was reluctant to leave the lagoon, Jak knew his supply of air was finite. In his dark form, he could've stayed under for far longer. But he was not ready to let these people know about that part of his life. Even if the ocean did seem like a safe place to release dark eco buildup.

When Jak waded out of the surf, his fingers were wrinkled and his hair was a mess, but he couldn't have cared less. It was as if months of tension had uncoiled and drifted away in the lagoon, leaving him lighter for it. Humming cheerfully, Jak wrung seawater out of his tunic and bent down to pick up his boots. A glance upward made him pause.

Mar was still with the six kids who had been playing with catapults on the shore, but now they were all clustered together, staring at him.

"What?" Jak asked self-consciously. His mood was beginning to deflate.

The oldest child there, roughly twelve or thirteen, pointed at the water.

"You went to the edge of the reef!"

Confused, Jak looked to the one-armed teacher for explanation. She looked as startled as her charges, but also a little impressed.

"You've got guts, I'll give you that," she said after a second, "But then, Seek here says you're new to Spargus, so I guess no one told you about the reef."

Jak laced up his boots and stood, brushing off sand. "Oh. Well, I didn't touch it, if that's what you're worried about. It doesn't look that healthy."

The teacher -- Korah, Daxter would later tell him -- grimaced.

"Yeah, that's our fault. Last generation didn't understand the damage yellow eco residue can do to coral. Took a couple years to pinpoint the shells ejected from the turret as the problem."

She shrugged.

"It's healing at its own pace. But that's not what the kids are concerned about. They thought you were going to go over the reef."

Jak actually laughed, surprising himself.

"Into dark water before I've had a chance to get a headlamp? Right. I'd want to be able to see what's down there."

A boy about Mar's age grimaced comically. "That's not allowed! You'll get eaten!"

"No I won't."

"Yeah you will!"

Jak boldly tousled the kid’s already messy black hair.

"I'm not afraid of sharks."

Korah cleared her throat.

"It's not sharks you have to watch for."

She pointed out towards the small island Jak had spotted past the reef. "That's Mother and Child Island. We don't swim there, and we don't take motorized boats there. The sounds attract the Scylla."

Daxter left off playing some kind of marble game with a little girl and cringed. "Uh...you mean the beastie on the edge of old maps? The "here there be monsters" Scylla?"

"I thought those were made up!" Jak looked just a little too eager.

"Nope." Korah shook her shaved head. "She's real, alright. Don't know how many of her kind there are out there, but she likes this coast for the smaller squid that hang around, and the occasional swimmer."

Daxter's fur puffed out. "Jak, if you try to take me past that reef, I'm gonna unionize."

Jak shaded his eyes and stared at the water as if he could see the colossal squid.

"So has anybody fought her or chased her off before?"

Korah's tone turned sharp. "Don't even think about it, newbie. Not only is that a fool's errand, it would unbalance the ecosystem."

Another one of the two older kids nodded. "The Scylla eats the squid and smaller sharks so they don't come bother us. If there's no Scylla, something bigger will move in."

Intrigued, Mar asked, "Bigger like what?"

The girl bent slightly to look him in the eye. "Ever seen the Colossal Blue shark?"

"No," answered Mar, and at the same time Jak and Daxter answered, "Yes!" With wildly different levels of enthusiasm.

"Yeah." The girl tossed auburn hair over her shoulder and straightened. "The Scylla keeps the Colossal Blues out of the area. Teacher says we give her her space, and she gives us ours as long as we don't swim past the reef."

Reluctantly, Jak agreed that the rule made sense in context. But now he really wanted to see the giant scylla.

#jak and daxter #jak and daxter fic #jak and daxter mar #fic prompts #writing prompts #meddling mar monday #meddling mar au #this entire section happened because i was listening to Sisu Swims from Raya and the Last Dragon #spargan ocs #the boys have a very eccentric landlady who only accepts conch shells for payment #i named the sea monster thing in Jak 3 a scylla after Scylla and Charybdis from the Odyssey

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