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neoncrowpen · 2 years

Note

Hi I'm very happy to see requests are open I love reading your Paul Atreides works. I was wondering if you could do one where he and the reader are training together and just what would happen. It could be either platonic or romantic. Sorry if it doesn't inspire you but if it does thank you and have a lovely day 😊

You tested your shields before you made your first move. It wasn’t out of courtesy, it was mandatory. Paul had a lot of rage pent up in his mind. You weren’t sure what was or why he’s been this way. Lately, his hits have been harder, faster, and angrier on you.

Court politics were lost on you. Even now, your worst nightmare would be saying the wrong thing to the wrong person because of the twisted web that is the Empire. You much preferred the company you kept: your weapons. Your shield was up and ready. You glanced over to your tense friend.

Paul’s curl fell in front of his face. His shield was almost ready. After fixing a slight glitch, the entire shield disappeared around his body like a spider’s web. From far away, it was naked to the eye, but close up, you could see the technology float around him in numbers and patterns. You slid your foot behind you, making yourself the smaller target. Patience rewarded you.

Paul charged at you quickly. His sword swung at your side with improved speed. Had Paul been practicing without you? You dodged, but your heard a disturbance in your shield. Paul jabbed the sword towards your front. You kept yourself as small as you could. You traded a few blows of your own, catching the edge of his shield. When you did, a smirk appeared on your features.

Paul’s face darkened. Your face fell. What was happening? Why was everything suddenly so serious? Paul’s sword charged at you again. Harder. Stronger. He took jabs and swings at your shoulder, your arm, your leg, your other shoulder, your core, and then—his foot kicked you down. The tip of his sword passed your shields and paused an inch before your nose.

“Dead,” he said. It was the first word he said to you since practice started. Granted, this was your first round practicing, but something felt off.

Your eyes found his. “What is wrong with you?”

“You lost. You’re dead.” His voice was flat. Monotone. As if your presence annoyed him somehow. He retracted his sword and walked back to his side of the room. You got back up on your own, feeling the burn of his lack of offer for a hand.

“Paul,” you called out to him. “What’s wrong?” When he gave you nothing, you decided to show force. Your dagger slid into your grip. You charged at your future Duke. He saw the weapon in your hand, and blocked it immediately. Paul didn’t see the twin dagger in your other hand. The blade steadied an inch from his throat. “Out with it.”

There was a tension that shook his shoulders slightly. His wide eyes told you everything. A new redness formed inside the whites of his eyes. Bags sagged underneath them.

“You haven’t been sleeping well.” You dropped both daggers to your sides. “You’re having dreams again, aren’t you?”

“I’m fine,” Paul spat. He averted his eyes from you. You took a closer look at him. Like the shields, you saw everything better close-up.

“You know, you’ve been different ever since I came back three weeks ago. The only thing that’s truly changed is your family’s new venture on Arrakis. You don’t have to tell me anything about how that works. I don’t really understand why the Emperor is sending all of us—

“You died on Arrakis.” Paul cut you off. Your mouth hung open. The four words alone were so little, but said so much. Paul found his voice. “I saw it. You were in battle. You were fighting for me, and—there was so many of them.”

“That’s not—no.” You shook your head. Your shoulders rolled. You gulped down your reactive words. Paul was different from you in every way. He was royalty. He was smarter than you when it came to books, science, and math. He was also Lady Jessica’s son. He had abilities that were beyond your understanding. Seeing the future shouldn’t be that hard to believe. The image Paul painted for you made it hard to grasp or deny. “That’s why you’ve been coming at me harder, isn’t it? To make me better so I can fight better.”

“I’m sorry.” Paul’s voice broke in the air between you. He bit his lip down. “It’s getting bad. All I see is our failure there. Nothing good waits for us on Arrakis.” You nodded. You cracked your neck to the side, letting fear roll off your shoulders.

“Well, we better get to it.” You brandished your sword and restarted your shields.

“You want another round?”

“I want as many rounds as we can.” You stood to your side. Making yourself the smaller target made you stronger. “Whatever waits for us there, we face them together. Even if it’s all in your head.” You smirked.

Paul matched your smirk with his own smile. His shoulders dropped I relief, but were quickly brought up again. This time, your sword charged at him for the second round.

#paul atreides #paul atreides x reader #paul atreides x you #paul atreides/reader #paul atreides/you #paul atreides imagine #imagine paul atreides #dune #dune imagine #imagine dune

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neoncrowpen · 2 years

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Hello Crow, can I ask for Geralt of Rivia x male reader where as a child reader by saved by him after he wandered in the woods when he went to fish by a lake and was attacked by a monster? Geralt passes by and hears him yell for help. Maybe he's running away from whatever's chasing him but he stumbles and falls into mud? The monster can't smell him so he stays put, but Geralt can. When he kills it and reader gets up, he asks him where he lives and then returnes back to his family? Maybe he helps him catch more fish since he dropped his bucket when he was running? They argue a little but Geralt gives in because he can tell that it's important to him (because it's going to be his dinner) They get back to town a bit late after reader catches enough for Geralt too. Geralt takes him straight home and meets his family. They're poor, but they pay him with what they have because they are so grateful. Grain, coin... They wash his clothes for him and he leaves in the early in the morning. So early that reader never got the chance to say goodbye. Years later, they meet again. Reader saves Geralt and takes him to a tavern he runs in the nearby town and tends for his wounds in his single bedroom upstairs. He sleeps on the floor and keeps Geralt on his bed because he's the guest and he needs to rest properly. He never really expected to meet him again, so when Geralt comes to, he's pretty awkward and unsure what to say? He's really glad though. It's a sweet moment. They eat together, and when Geralt is fit to travel days later, reader tells him him that he and other Witchers are always welcome at his tavern. And he escorts him to the edge of town, too. He wishes him good luck on his journey and thanks him for saving him and escorting him back home as a child. Basically... Geralt making a friend? I know you love soft scenes with him so I hope you'll like this. Feel free to take it wherever you want! ❤️

Title: The Silver Onion Tavern

Relationship: Geralt x Child!Male!Reader

Words: 3324

Common Tags: Fluff, Friendship, and Food

Summary: On his way to Vengerberg, Geralt saves you, a poor country boy. He never realized how one act could make a big difference.

“Help! Somebody help me!”

Geralt’s ears tuned towards the desperate cry for help. A flash of movement caught his eye. Not too far off the forest path, a werewolf jumped between the trees. The creature was moving fast which meant that it was closing in on its prey. A scream rang in Geralt’s ears. His feet flew against the dry forest floor, rustling up leaves behind him.

“Help!” Geralt heard again. He was getting closer. As he ran into a small clearing, he saw you. Your shirt was ripped, leaving your shoulder exposed. Blood seeped into the ripped fabric on your back. Geralt inhaled sharply. The werewolf already clawed you. Your feet flung mud into the air. You weren’t much of a fighter, but you ran like hell.

Your right foot dug too hard into the thickened mud. Your bucket flew into the air, the remaining fish inside spilled all around you. Each one landed into the mud. Your hands grabbed at the ground. Your feet kicked away, but not up. Any traction you tried to get slipped away from you.

The werewolf dove and landed just twenty feet away from where you slipped. Its claws dug deep into the ground. Its nose snarled. Geralt got a better look at the monster. Where its eyes were supposed to be, two swollen, overgrown scars were. It was blind. Geralt switched his focus to you.

“Don’t move,” he told you. The werewolf’s head snapped towards his voice. Thick mud dripped from the werewolf’s nose. “It can’t see or smell you! Bury yourself in the mud and stay still. Do you understand?”

Your hands dug deep into the mud. You covered yourself in a layer of the wet, dark dirt. Geralt sighed in relief. You had great listening skills which more than he could say about other people he’s helped. The werewolf inched in his direction. It wasn’t enough. Charging at the creature would give him the disadvantage.

“Aye!” Geralt called the werewolf to him. The werewolf growled. On all fours, it sank just enough into the ground. This was it. The werewolf charged forward. Geralt readied his blade. As the werewolf jumped at him, Geralt jerked his blade up into the werewolf’s throat. The werewolf whined in pain until Geralt sunk a second, smaller blade of silver deep into a scarred eye. The creature ceased whining. Its weight dropped with finality.

As Geralt turned around, you approached his side. Mud smeared across your face and chest. Geralt cringed at the smell of you. You smelled of earth, fish, and worst of all, a pungent smell he couldn’t identify. Your clothes were ruined, but you were safe.

“Is it dead?” You asked.

“Yes,” Geralt said. “What happened? Were you trying to feed it fish?”

“No!” You yelled at him. Your breath shuddered while your empty bucket dangled at your side. Geralt put the pieces together on his own. He remembered when he was a little boy, too.

“You were responsible for tonight’s dinner,” he said, defeated. “Where’s your father? Was he with you?” You shook your head.

“He’s back home.” Your shoulders dropped. “My Pa’s sick.” Geralt grunted in the same way when he knew the universe got the best of him again. Since Jaskier and the Child of Surprise, children had a funny way of showing up in every job he took somehow. As if the universe was punishing him for leaving the unborn baby behind in Cintra.

You guided him back to your humble abode where Geralt identified the pungent smell he noticed earlier. Behind your house, a full and thriving onion garden grew. Chickens walked in between the rows, they pecked at the ground with tail feathers high in the air. Your now filled bucket of fish swung in your grip. The weight was heavier than you expected. Then again, you were also bringing home an unexpected guest.

The wood floor creaked underneath Geralt’s feet when he entered your home. Your younger siblings ran amok. Two of them chased each other through the rooms. Another sat quietly knitting by the fire. The youngest looked at Geralt with big eyes which caught your mother’s attention.

“Y/N, who’s this?”

“He saved me, Ma! I was fishin’ and then a werewolf smelled it and clawed at me.” You set down your bucket and used your hands to mimic your actions. “I was runnin’ and then I tripped in that mud swamp and then the werewolf almost got me and then Gary used his big swords and stabbed the bastard in the head!”

“Geralt, not Gary,” Geralt corrected you. “Sorry, he’s—

“I know. He’s mine.” Your mother laughed with Geralt. She turned to scold you. “What did I tell you about fishing near the Moonwater?”

“But Ma! That’s where all the good fish are!”

“Yes, but that’s not our land. And it’s too far for you.” Your mother shook her head, taking in the full dirty sight of you. “Go wash up right now before you get sick.” She smacked you lightly in the back of your head. You favored the spot until you disappeared into the next room. Another slender figure exited the same room. His frame seemed too weak to carry the same bucket you brought in. The lines in his face made him look much older than what he really was.

“Pasha, what the hell’s—oh. A witcher,” he said. His tired eyes woke up at the sight of Geralt. “What’s a witcher doing here?”

“Your son went fishing where he wasn’t supposed to,” Pasha explained. Her hand landed on her hip. “One of the blind werewolves smelled him. Almost got to him, too. Geralt slayed it.”

“You did?” Concern colored the man’s face. Guilt took over afterwards. “Oh, I suppose you’re looking for pay.”

“Lloyd, we don’t—

“Pasha, he saved our boy. We’ve got to pay him,” Lloyd said. Geralt’s eyes shifted around. They settled on the daughter in front of the fire who quietly watched the whole interaction. The daughter’s unmoving eyes unnerved something in the witcher.

“Actually,” Geralt began. “Maybe, just some dinner and a place to sleep for the night will do.” He already was hours behind where he wanted to be. The mission at Vengerberg was most likely gone by now. He thought of the turn of phrase with lemons, but onions soon returned to his mind. Bags of them were piled by the back door. Their yellowed skin peeled away and scattered around the floor.

“We’re just farmers. We don’t have much,” Pasha said. She pressed a bag of coins into his palm. “Y/N wasn’t supposed to be out there and he knows better—

“He’s a good kid, really.” Geralt gave back the coins. “You mentioned there’s blind werewolves around here. Did you mean an entire pack of them?”

“Ah,” Pasha sighed. She started on making dinner. She gutted, scaled, and cleaned each fish, she threw them into a pile. Soon, their meat hit a bed of onions. Geralt raised his brow at the creation. Pasha spun her yarn. “It’s an awful story, and no one who lives here now knows the actual truth of it. Some decades back, a sorceress was hurt. Some say raped. Others say the men of the town wanted to gut her. Then, people gathered together to try and push her out of town even more. She cursed them all into werewolves. When the wolves started to drag women and children into the forest, she cursed them again. Blinding them. Mainly, they keep to themselves far away by a lake where fish are bountiful.”

Geralt grunted. He remembered looking at the scarred remains where the wolves’ eyes should have been. No curse left something as ugly as that behind. That werewolf was blinded by a weapon. “They’re territorial.”

You sniffed the air nearing the witcher. Geralt almost flinched at your sudden presence. Your nose curled. “You smell.”

“Y/N!” Pasha scolded you. “He saved your life! Show some manners!” Geralt laughed. You were bold to say the least. Some people were a breath of fresh air. You were a punch to the gut with a laugh at the end. A punchline. As his laugh faded, he found your smile. Maybe, children weren’t so intimidating.

Dinner was served hot. Geralt’s soiled clothes were soaking in a tub. The family sat together at a large wooden table. It reminded Geralt of a tavern he knew when he first started as a witcher. The wooden was warped in some places. A large chunk of it was missing from the corner.

“Ah, you’re probably wondering how that one happened,” Lloyd smiled. He glanced at his wife. “That actually happened the night we met. It was a bar brawl.”

“Lloyd, the children.” Pasha reminded him. Lloyd waved off his wife and lowered his voice.

“One of your kind stood up for me against some sour-minded knights. One thing led to another and then WHAM!” Lloyd’s hand chopped at the missing corner. Geralt noticed the twinkle in your eye, remembering he once had the same look. You ate slowly, taking in the story “Once the head was rolling on the floor, the rest of them backed away. I got a little closer to my favorite girl and well, that’s how that one happened.” Lloyd nodded to you. Your father’s hand messed with your head, scratching you like a dirty pup.

“Have you ever killed anyone, Gary?” You asked.

“Geralt,” the witcher corrected again. “Yes, I’m afraid I have.”

“Did you chop off their heads, too?” You exclaimed a little too excitedly.

“Killing people isn’t a fun game, Y/N.” Geralt’s tone turned serious. Your mouth filled with fried fish. You chewed with your mouth open, all of your focus landed on Geralt’s words. “When you lived as long as I have, you see how little time we have here. Once you’ve killed someone, you carry that pain with you no matter where you go. Just like that scar on your shoulder. You’ll remember to listen to your mother now, hm?”

Your fingers grazed the new clawed scar on your shoulder. Geralt watched you digest his words. Before, he thought you wouldn’t have learned the lesson. No one really listened to him anyways.

“Ma, I’m sorry,” you spoke up. “I won’t go near the Moonwater again.”

“That’s a good boy,” your mother smiled. “Now, finish your dinner and wash up for bed.”

Geralt sat quietly with you and your siblings before bed. He traded stories of his adventures with quiet company that actually listened to him. With Jaskier and other adults, it seemed their loud presence bothered him. He thought a child’s company would be tenfold. Yet, he had four eyes intently listening to each monster story like they were just as good as a song tale a bard sang.

“Time for bed!” Pasha called out. A collective groan made Geralt smile.

“Do we have to?”

“Yes, you have to.”

“Just one more?”

“No, it’s late enough. Come on now.” Pasha waved her hand towards the respective rooms. You lingered behind, looking up at the witcher. You were much smaller than the adult who was at least twenty years older than both of your parents.

“Y/N! Let’s go. Geralt has to get to bed, too.” Pasha called out.

Your eyes lingered on Geralt’s face, but no thoughts came out of you. “G’night!” You shouted and ran off into the boys’ room. Pasha sighed, holding her head in her hand.

“Thank you again for saving him,” she said. “I know I must seem like—

“You’re a great mother,” Geralt reassured her. “Believe me, I know what a terrible mother looks like. He’s a boy. He’s allowed to be a handful.”

Pasha smiled. They shared the new silence together. The same thought crossed their minds, but it wasn’t spoken out loud. Geralt rarely spoke of his own mother, but he could see Pasha was grateful for the non-judgment. He imagined that her busy hands dealt with something new every day. It intimidated him.

Being a parent was much more than just feeding a child. It was feeding a child every day, guiding them, protecting them, holding them in their fears, helping them chase their dreams, and much more. It was scolding them. It was teaching them. It was trusting them enough to go out and find food for the rest of the family, and hoping they would make the journey back safe.

Geralt wondered if all of that intimidated his own mother. Was this why she abandoned him? It was almost a good enough reason why he abandoned the Child of Surprise. Geralt turned over in the hay inside the small barn outside. His ear listened for you.

Dawn came and Geralt shared his gratitude to Pasha and Lloyd. Lloyd walked with him into the heart of town, using his own coin to help replenish Great’s supplies.

“Really, you don’t have to,” Geralt commented. Lloyd tied a bag of onions onto Roach. Lloyd patted the back of the horse. His laugh was as light as yours.

“I don’t expect you to eat all of these,” Lloyd said. “But, they will fetch a good amount of coin if you’re going to Vengerberg. There’s a viscount there who pays well for these. He sends someone every now and then to buy a cartload of them. Whatever coin he gives you, take as a reward for the werewolf.”

“Thank you,” Geralt said. As he turned to leave, he thought of you. You were still sound asleep when he took his last look inside the small farmhouse. Knowing that your mother had her hands full every day, it seemed selfish of him to wake you up. “Lloyd, will you tell your boy I said goodbye?”

“Of course! I’m sure he’ll miss you.” Lloyd smiled. “He’s always liked witchers. Suppose that’s a bit of my fault. I tell really good stories about them.” Geralt nodded and went on his way. A quiet smile was his only accessory as he moved towards Vengerberg.

Years flew by like birds when Geralt found himself walking the same forest trail again. He reminisced about Lloyd’s onions, Pasha’s fried fish, and you with your bold statements. His stomach growled. As he checked his supplies, he realized he was surprisingly low. He rode Roach into town. Surely, there would be a decent place of food.

Buildings looked just the same as they did years ago when he walked into town with your father. However, one newer building stood out among the rest. It wasn’t too fancy of a new build. This tavern had character to it. The roof was the color of red rocks. The door seemed to be always swinging open and closed. People left with big smiles and laughter leaving their chest. Geralt spied the sign hanging above the door.

“The Silver Onion?” He said to only himself. A pungent smell entered his nose. A familiar pungent smell. He raised his brow and walked inside.

Tables were filled with groups of different folks from all over. Geralt noted a group of young knights, a pair of monks, two families, folks who sat by themselves, and a whole table of nobles who sat next to farm folk and poorer folk. He sighed, thinking there was no room here.

“Hello,” a young lady greeted him. She looked oddly familiar, but Geralt couldn’t place her face. “Just yourself?”

“You seem full,” Geralt said. “I’ll come back another time.”

“Oh,” the young girl tsked. She pointed towards the bar at the back. “There’s room over there. My brother would be happy to take care of you. Best seat in the house. I promise.” Her genuine smile was hard to say no to. Geralt weaved himself in between the tables. As he passed by, he noticed plates of potato stew, fried fish, and even a sweet dish with powdered sugar dusted on top. He settled into his bar seat. The stool creaked underneath his weight.

He scanned the bar noting that there was more than one type of ale here. There was also chilled wine, both red and white. A good amount of dairy milk with fruit to mix with it. Next to the kitchen door was a young man. He poured a barmaid a tray full of pints. This new tavern was popular enough to have more than one barmaid and more than one type of drink. He wondered why he hadn’t heard of it before.

His eyes looked around his new surroundings. Glasses clinked against each other. More food left the kitchen. No one here seemed upset or cold enough to start a fight.

“Hello, Gary.” The familiar name made Geralt’s heart warm. He turned his face to see you. Time didn’t mean much to someone like Geralt. He often forgot that others aged faster than he did. You wore a stained tunic. Your smile was still the same, almost the same as your father’s.

“Y/N,” Geralt greeted you. “It’s good to see you. You’ve grown.”

“I have.” You nodded. You gestured to the entire place. “So, what do you think?”

“Is this all yours?” Geralt looked around. Suddenly, the young lady’s face in the front flickered a memory. It was the girl by the fire. Your three younger siblings all stood out among the crowded tavern. Your younger brother and sister still ran around the room, but this time they weaved in and out of chairs, serving customers. Your youngest sibling cooked in the back. Geralt stammered. “This is…incredible. Congratulations. I’m sure your parents are proud.”

“Aye.” You nodded. “Wish Pa was around to see it.”

“Lloyd’s dead?” Geralt’s smile dropped.

“Yeah, uh, he left us five years after you saved me.” You scratched the back of your head. “He hated that day. It hurt him that I almost died. So, he pushed himself harder and harder to sell our onions. One day, it was just too much. He was a really sick man.”

“I’m so sorry,” Geralt frowned. “And your mother?”

“She’s at my house.” Your smiled grew tenfold. Signs of age rendered into your face. “She takes care of her grandkids while we all work here.”

“Grandchildren, wow,” Geralt shook his head. How time had passed. “You’ve done well for yourself. How did this all start?”

“After Pa died, I took over selling our onions. My sister is the real brains behind it all. She’s got a good head for numbers. Together, we sold onions until we got a better cart. Then, it was a small storefront. After that, we were invited to Vengerberg food festivals. And then, this.” You gestured to the tavern around you. “I only wish he were here to see it now. He dreamed of running his own tavern. You know?”

“Why not name it after him?” Geralt chuckled.

“We couldn’t. We sort of named it after you.”

Geralt was taken aback. Confusion and shock made his eyes flickered back to the front. Had he read the sign wrong?

“The Silver Onion,” you explained. “Silver for the werewolf you saved me from. Onions for the bag you took with you. After that day, things changed for us. I don’t know why people don’t like witchers more. After meeting you, our luck turned for the better.” You sighed. “Anyways, would you like to try our famous soup? Anything you want, it’s on the house.”

“On the house?”

“Anything for you, Gary.” You winked. Geralt returned your warmth. He didn’t bother correcting you this time. He nodded and gave another order for ale. You returned with a light amber colored liquid in a pint glass. The darker liquid in the oversized bowl smelled more enticing. Cheese melted across the top, and when Geralt dug his spoon inside, steaming, marinated onions covered his spoon.

You had only known him for one day, and yet here you were. Your faded scar on your shoulder remained with you, just like the memory of him had.

#geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt/reader #geralt x reader #imagine geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia imagine #the witcher imagine #witcher x reader #the witcher #geralt x child!reader #geralt x male!reader #witcher one shot #one shot #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x you

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neoncrowpen · 2 years

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Can I pleaseeee request a Jaime Lannister x Male Reader, where the Male Reader manages to seduce Jaime (*wink*) and turn him against Cersei? I really wanted something dark, but also something realllly sexual between Jaime and the Male Reader, maybe he is even accused of sorcery, but he’s just that good (*wink*)

Author's Notes: This turned out a lot darker than I planned. Please heed the warnings.

Author's Warnings: Violent Death. Torture. Please use caution and check triggers before reading.

You were escorted into private chambers with chains around your feet and wrists. They would’ve added one to your mouth considering how much you liked to run it, but you needed it to speak. It was a shame, really. You were very talented with your mouth. Words fell from it like poetry, quick words turned your enemies into friends, and sometimes your enemies to lovers.

When two guards opened the doors, you were greeted by a room filled with blonde-haired, sour-faced Lannisters all looking back at you. Tywin sat at the head. If you didn't know any better, you would claim he was King, not Tommen. His eyes burned with a loathing he only saved for his truest enemies. You considered yourself lucky to have gained such a title. Cersei looked down on you, but she looked down on everyone.

Oberyn Martell was someone you didn’t expect. His face was pensive. You could only guess what paths his mind walked when you entered the room. Tyrion looked at you the same way he looked at gold. You were a bright, shiny thing to marvel at. Tyrion often stole glances at his older brother. You guessed he was trying to gauge what Jaime felt.

“Aren’t you going to kneel?” Tywin asked you. A smirk appeared on your face.

“Only if Ser Jaime asks me to,” you said. Tyrion almost choked on his wine with glee.

“You are disgusting.” Tywin said. Jaime averted his eyes away from you. The sun brightened his face, reaching all of him. His armor shined. His cape was scrubbed clean of dirt and blood. His face was one of shame. If he took one long look at you, he would see how badly you were tortured in the dungeons.

“Get on with this,” Cersei ordered. “It’s obvious, he’s guilty. Send him to his death.”

“Jealous bitch,” you muttered.

“What did you just say?” Cersei looked at you. Now, you had her full attention. You glanced at Jaime again. “Don’t look at him!”

“I thought I was being put on trial today,” you addressed the room. The lack of the Iron Throne and handful of people told you more than you wanted to know. The Lannisters didn’t want you on public display. In fact, this seemed more like a formality. A set-up as a result of Jaime’s worst sin: loving you.

And it was sinful. In the same way that bastards existed, that women bled, you loved fiercely and roughly. It was neither something you chose or something Jaime chose either. It happened the same way how men and women fall in love.

You challenged him. You pushed every limit of him on the practice grounds until he broke in your hands. Then, you broke him. You shattered every preconceived idea of what love meant. You taught him how to touch, how to kiss, how to fuck, how to pull and push parts of you that no one else saw.

Your hold on him turned him into something more. He was no longer a twin, a father's pawn, or a knight. He was yours. Jaime sighed your name in bed, in hallways, in the dark where your love flourished.

Now, your love for the golden lion was being punished and some found it to be entertaining.

“You are,” Tywin said. His hands gestured up. “You are on trial for sorcery, bribery, and adultery.”

“Sorcery? Adultery?” You threw your head back in laughter. Tywin frowned. He gestured to one of the guards holding your chains. The guard struck your face with a swift blow. Your nose crunched under the pressure. Blood leaked from one of your nostrils.

“How do you plead?” Tywin asked.

You tutted. “Of all of that, I am innocent. I suggest you look to your favored children, Tywin. You should really hear what the people have to say about what really happened to Brandon Stark.”

“Enough!” Cersei turned to her father. Her tone as sharp as the sword you wielded. “Sentence him to death. Now. He’s clearly guilty. If it wasn’t for him, Joffery would still be alive and we would have Sansa Stark in our hands.” You rolled your eyes at the accusations. Tywin’s hand flew up. It shushed Cersei enough for her to fall back into her seat. Jaime still averted his eyes from you.

It burned you more with each second. How dare he do this to you?

How many nights did he relish your face after he gave you pleasure? How many days did he allow himself to glare at you across the room when you flirted with other men? How much sadness broke in his heart when you finally got the message through to him? You held him, kissing his tears, as he screamed for all of King’s Landing to hear. He never knew love when it came to Cersei. Not once. She turned him into something he wasn’t all this time.

Jaime was never himself until he kissed you.

Jaime was never meant to belong to anyone else but you. And now, his eyes stayed outside the room as you were struck by a guard again. The hit left you a bit dizzy, but not compliant.

“Did you sleep with Ser Jaime? Yes or no?” Tywin asked you again for the third time. You thought it was obvious from two days ago when one of Cersei’s handmaidens discovered both of you in bed. “I will not ask again.”

“Yes.” The answer sputtered out of you. Your breathing became labored.

“So, you knowingly slept with a betrothed man?”

“Jaime isn’t betrothed.”

“He is.” Tywin said. Jaime’s jaw set. “To Lady Ophelia of House Payne.”

“Hm, this is the first time I’ve ever heard that,” Tyrion commented out loud. You thought as much. Tywin was saving face for his own son who didn’t want his seat at Casterly Rock. It was known that Jaime was never going to take his father’s spot since he picked up a sword and swore himself to service rather than power. This was a set-up.

“Is loving someone a crime?” you asked. “If it is, then you’re all guilty.” Your eyes burned into Cersei.

“You committed more than adultery.” Tywin spat at you. “What you did to my son—

“I loved him!” You raised your voice.

“You casted spells on him. He was brainwashed by you and your ways.”

“I helped him see how fucked up your family is!”

“You used your manhood as a weapon—

“My heart belongs to this man. My mind and soul belong this man.” You attempted to stand up. Guards pushed you back down to your knees. “My body belongs to him. I do not know witchcraft, but I know him better than anyone else in this room, I—

“Sentence him to death,” Cersei cut in. Her words held no power over you. It was like listening to a child plead and whine to their father. What a spoiled thing. No wonder why Lannisters were hated by all. They were monsters all made by their father.

“Your innocence is looking murky, Ser Y/N.” Tywin said. “You do not deny any of these accusation we have set forth before you.”

“Fine! I’m guilty.” Your rage took over you. “I am guilty of fucking the most beautiful among you. I am guilty of making his body mine. I am guilty of taking him away from his King’s wedding. Why did I do it? To protect Sansa Stark? No.” Your laughter resonated off the walls. “I took him away from the wedding to run away with me. And now, I wish he had listened to me. I wish he listened to me when I told him this family was nothing but poison.”

Jaime shivered. His attention turned to you now. His eyes widened at the sight of you. Your nose bled down your chin and onto the floor. Your sunken eyes and blue bags made it seem that you hadn’t slept in years. All of your hair was taken from you, cut down to the scalp. Cuts decorated you. You were a chipped and vandalized marble statue. The gods took their time making you, but the guards tore away the beauty of you. You were no longer the sun in your lover’s eyes. You were a stranger.

Jaime couldn’t breathe when he looked at you.

“He admitted his guilt,” Cersei said. She looked to the guards with impatient wrath. “Do it.”

“I loved you,” you admitted. “Why didn’t you leave with me? I gave you everything I had. I loved you more th—

The sword pierced through your throat. Your last words were nothing but blood and choking noises that would plague Jaime for the rest of his life. His compliance rewarded him with a dreadful memory. Cersei wasn’t the only one who snuck off to see Maggie the Frog. While Maggie made her dark predictions for Cersei, she only made one for Jaime.

You will only have one great love, and they will make you choose. Poison or freedom?

All this time, Jaime thought the choice was easy. Freedom in everything he did. The guard jerked the sword around your throat, making a messy decapitation. Your head fell to the side. It rolled enough for Jaime to look into your cold eyes. Jaime didn’t think he would choose poison.

#jaime lannister #jaime lannister x reader #jaime lannister x you #jaime lannister/reader #jaime lannister/you #male!reader #jaime lannister x male!reader #jaime lannister/male!reader #imagine jaime lannister #jaime lannister imagine #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #imagine game of thrones #got #got imagine #tw: violent death #tw: violence #tw: torture

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neoncrowpen · 2 years

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serotonin.

frog child go blub blub make brain go brrrr

- Crow

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neoncrowpen · 2 years

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I gift you this photo of my cat for serotonin

THIS IS YOUR CAT?!?!?

Excuse me? Excuse me? *hold up the mic* *ahem*

spspspspspspspspspspspspspspspspspspspspspsps

- Crow

#give your cat a award

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neoncrowpen · 2 years

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I love you ❤️ everything will be okay! I'm here for you.

- Crow

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neoncrowpen · 2 years

Text

I am in need of serotonin. Can someone please hand some over?

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neoncrowpen · 2 years

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Ok I hope this isn't too weird, but Battle of the Bands is one of my favorite AUs ever. (Yeah, I've been around for a while 😄) And last night I actually dreamed about rockstar! Viserys 😅 I had somehow scored a meet & greet with him and the band - even tho I wasn't like a super fan of them. Anyway, the band left to party pretty quickly after taking a few pics, but Viserys kept hanging out with me. Idk if he's had a bad day, but somehow he told me he felt lonely. So I hugged him and we ended up cuddling on the couch, with him falling asleep with his head on my chest. It was too adorable! 😍

WOW! You have been around for a while!!!

Honestly, I love it whenever people come and talk to me about Battle of the Bands (or any of my fics really). This was so sweet to read! I'm practically blushing and gushing (and every "ushing" there is). I truly enjoyed my time writing that whole fic. I'd love to do the same kind of fic but with a different AU when I have more time.

I do have a spot for Viserys. I wish I could write him more. (Nah, let's be honest. I just miss Game of Thrones. I guess I'm due for a rewatch.)

- Crow

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neoncrowpen · 2 years

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Please could you do a john shelby x male reader smut 😩

Everyone said that the Peaky Blinders were merciless with a worse attitude than the Devil. Which was a problem to your older brother. He accepted you, loved you even more now that you seemed more like yourself. His only rule was, “Don’t fuck with the Peaky Blinders. They watch over this pub.”

You were the middle child of your family. Breaking the rules was built into your bones as much as your sexuality.

John Shelby pushed you against the wall in the room above the pub. His mouth crashed over yours with fervent impatience. His hands flew towards your chest. He ripped at your buttoned shirt. His mouth kissed any exposed skin he had access to. He almost drowned your senses.

“You are impossible today.” You laughed. John pulled away from you.

“What’s that mean?” His mouth stayed inches from yours. You closed the space for a moment.

“Impossible to please.”

“I’m hard to please?”

“Ten minutes ago, you told me we were done here.”

“Eight minutes ago, you reminded me why we’re not,” John said. Challenging others must have been a middle child thing. He brought your face to his, but stopping just before your lips met again. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know what you’re doing to me.” Your smirk cut into John enough to kiss you again. Over and over and over and over until his perfectly combed back hair was ruined by your touch.

The bed wasn’t too far off from the spot on the wall. Your pants pooled around your ankles. John hovered over your cock. His hands ran up and down your thighs, warming them. You watched one hand wrap around your member, just like you taught him, and he began a pumping motion. You kissed him as a reward.

“Good boy,” you told him. You egged him on. His tongue lapped against the tip. Your eyes fluttered shut. For once, it was easy to enjoy him. He wasn’t at all familiar with giving, but you wanted to give him the chance. He’d been so selfish before. Now, he slowed down, taking his time with a sort-of new territory. He left trails of kisses, wrapping around you, including your inner thigh. His mouth swallowed you whole. As it did, you moaned again. “Good boy.”

You fell back in the bed. Your hands ran down your face as John took your whole cock in. Your challenge to him earlier clearly bothered him. Every time, you thought he would give up, his mouth went in deeper. Your eyes flew open at the raw sight of him. Good god. He was really enjoying this. Your fingers ruined his hair again by pulling it, keeping him here with you.

Something inside quickly burned away at you. The feeling would only increase the longer John spent on you. But, the fun just began. If you didn’t move him away now, it would soon be over. You pushed him off to get away from you.

John pushed back hard.

His hand flew towards your throat. He squeezed the sides, robbing you of air and control. John continued his steady pace, but he became unbearable. He pushed you back to where you once were. On your back, you started to breathe unevenly. He wanted you there. John wanted you to become undone while you were inside his mouth. John dragged his tongue from the base to your tip. His eyes connected with yours.

He smiled. He knew you were getting close.

John swallowed you whole again, earning him his name moaned out loud. John’s hands slid up your stomach, and you almost reached—

“What the hell is this?” Your older brother walked in.

John and you scrambled to get yourselves together. Before another word was uttered, John Shelby was out the door. Your brother’s gaze followed John out the door. You stared daggers into your sibling.

“Was that who I think it was?” Your older brother asked.

“Yes,” you answered.

“You are fucking around with Peaky Blinders,” he scolded you. You held up a finger. With only a sheet covering your family jewels, you decided to be bold.

“You said, ‘don’t fuck with’. You never said I couldn’t actually fuck a Shelby.”

“That was a Shelby?!”

“John Shelby.”

“You’re the worst little shit—

#john shelby #john shelby x reader #john shelby x male!reader #john shelby x you #john shelby/reader #john shelby/you #john shelby/ male!reader #male!reader #imagine john shelby #john shelby imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blnders imagines #imagine peaky blinders #nsfw #pwp

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neoncrowpen · 2 years

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Hi!

If your requests are open, can you do a Tommy Shelby x male reader, where the reader is like a rich lawyer and dating Tommy and the Shelby family is really apprehensive about meeting him, but then they meet him and instantly like him because of how good he is for Tommy?

Thank you! Have a nice day!

“Alright.” Thomas raised his hands up. A hush washed over the room filled with Shelbys. Old Shelbys, young Shelbys, smoking Shelbys, Shelbys who already had too much to drink, and the Shelbys who claimed that they hated their name but we’re here for the drama anyways all looked to Thomas. A heavy breath left Thomas’ chest. “No fighting. Do we understand?”

“No fighting?” Arthur spoke up. “That’s a load of bullshit! Have you gone mad? He’s one of England’s lap dogs, Tommy!”

“Practically Churchill’s bitch!” said another. Soon, the volume of the room increased again. Thomas heard voices rise above others. He counted a Hail Mary, three death threats, and two wagers being made in the background.

“I said, alright!” Thomas’ voice rose again. He took control. “Jesus Christ, I thought coming out was harder than this.”

“You know, it all would’ve been fine if it was some other bloke,” Michael pointed out. “But, Y/N? Seriously? The same lawyer who almost put Arthur in Wakefield? It’s like a sheep falling in love with a wolf.”

A knock sounded off at the side door of the Shelby Parlor. Several eyes darted towards the door to see a shadowed figure through the frosted glass.

“Tommy! Here? You invited him here?” Polly scolded in a whispered voice.

“Is this a joke?” another Shelby said.

“He’s going to get us all arrested,” John said above the increasing, panicked voices. “It’d be easier if we all went to Hell now.” Tommy walked past them all. His eyes rolled at their dramatic words. He opened the door to see you. You fixed your tie and swallowed hard. Your suit fit you well. Your eyes searched behind Tommy’s head.

“They’re all here, aren’t they?” You asked. Thomas nodded at you slowly.

“Do you—

“No, no. I want to meet them. Get it over with in a way. They’re going to find out about it anyways.”

“About us?” Thomas raised his brow.

“No.” You shook your head, smirking at him. “The other thing.”

“Oh.” Thomas’ face paled. “That thing. You see, I have to talk to—

You walked straight into the betting parlor without any warning. Thomas hated it when you cut him off, but he allowed you to introduce yourself anyways. Despite some hateful looks, you stood confident in front of the Shelbys.

“Afternoon,” you greeted. You shoved your hands in your pockets. You knew better than to offer a handshake to a Shelby. “As I understand it, you already know who I am.”

“We do,” Polly said. Her lips formed a straight line. Silence followed. They waited for you to fuck up, to trigger something inside of them that would justify any harm to you. You rolled your shoulders back.

“Thomas and I had an idea. He said if I wanted to be a part of this family, I must be useful somehow,” you explained. You lit a cigarette. Smoke wafted from your mouth. “Did you reckon that things would be easier for all of you if you had a lawyer from old money on your side?”

“What do you mean?” John raised his brow. “Like, if you worked for us?”

“You could do anything you wanted with the right amount of money and the right lawyer.” You winked at John. Tommy cleared his throat. When you took the lead, he had no reins on you. A moment of silence fell over the room. Realization flickered bright over their heads. Polly walked towards you with her arms open wide.

“Welcome to the family, Y/N!” She embraced you like another Shelby. Arthur and John were next. Shelbys shook your hand, patted your back, and offered you a drink or four. Their faces brightened at yours, and Tommy really had nothing to worry about.

Arthur patted Tommy on his back. “Does his family know you’re with him?”

Tommy’s smile dropped. He had one thing to worry about.

#thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x male!reader #thomas shelby x you #thomas shelby/you #thomas shelyby/reader #male!reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #imagine peaky blinders #peaky blinders fic

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