#BUT I FEEL LIKE THROWING HANDS AT THE COWARDICE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tinandabin · 3 months

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SAGAU but the the reader is the ACTUAL creator

Thorny love: part 5

Previous part: part 4

a/n: am I back from the dead? I dunno, but yesterday night I felt like writing and wrote another part. so, I decided to publish it here also!

________

"Yo-Your Grace... You are finally here.." Ei spoke, her eyes wide and her legs shaking a bit. It almost looked like she was gonna cry. However, her face hardened up as soon as more people started gathering around you and her. Perhaps, you were the only one to catch a glimpse of her expression. She is an Archon, she too has a reputation to uphold in Inazuma, after all. "Hello, Ei. How have you been?" You smiled at her, hand going up to ruffle her hair. Revelyn still hadn't let go of your robe, her hold on it tightened a bit.

Ei's breath hitched as soon as your hand messed with her hair. "I'm..." She tried to find the right words to express her feelings, but she couldn't. How can she explain that she felt as if a part of her had been torn from her when you left her? It felt as if...she had been plunged into never-ending despair and loneliness. She missed you, very dearly. The place where her heart should have been, felt strangely empty without your embrace, your smile, your eyes, you.

Your hand retreated soon enough, "You don't have to answer, Ei." You gently told her, sensing her inner turmoil. It hurt you to leave your creations suffering and in agony, it truly did so. But some actions are sadly enough, necessary.

Ei smiled and nodded, hand coming to hold yours when she saw another hand grasping your robe. Immediately, she looked at the culprit only to see the face of the impostor. How dare she even show her face here after all she did? The thought made her scoff. She not only deceived the Archons but even you. The nerve of some people.. And now she acts all angelic and needy when you show up? But of course, Ei won't say anything. Not in front of you.

"And who might be the coward behind you, Your Grace?" Ei gestured towards Revelyn behind you. You smiled beamingly, gently prying Revelyn from behind you. "Oh, come now, Ei, you don't remember her?" You asked her innocently, quickly realizing the jab she was throwing towards Revelyn, but brushing it off. You don't wish for an argument to start over here, of all places.

Ei stared at Revelyn for a moment, taking your hint to not taunt her. "I do, Your Grace. How could I not?"

"I'm glad to know so, " You put your hands on Revelyn's shoulder, your touch sending an electrifying shock of pleasure through her body. "Everyone misunderstood Revelyn. She's a very sweet and angelic girl. I'm sure she will fit right back in, hm?"

Revelyn stood awkwardly, clearly wanting to be anywhere but here. She decided to keep up her act of cowardice until you left. "Um.. Hi," Her meek voice spoke up, a slight tremble to it. She batted her eyelashes at Ei, smiling softly. "I'm Revelyn.. Revelyn Aniela. "

The surname struck some nostalgic feeling inside you. You had a brief feeling that perhaps you had heard this somewhere before, that perhaps someone dear to you held the same surname. Someone close to your heart, your mind, your soul- but who? Who was that? You can't recall. Aniela. Aniela. Aniela. So familiar, yet so distinct. Maybe it was simply the name of a friend long gone, you would love to give yourself this benefit of doubt, but you're not the kind of person to do that. You're the Creator for fuck's sake, if you're remembering something, then that must be because it's important! It was of significance, you wouldn't just remember a random surname, right? Right...?

You shook your head, deciding you're indeed giving yourself the benefit of the doubt because you're too old to deal with this detective stuff. Frankly enough, if you think about it more, you'll probably just get a headache. Best to leave it be, now. You'll just ask Seraphina to play detective, like always. You cleared your throat. "So, what are we waiting for? Shall we go?"

Ei nodded right away, grabbing your hand and Intertwining your fingers. "As you wish, Your Grace. "

Revelyn was left behind to catch up.

__________

A few days passed in Inazuma without much commotion. You spent most of the time with Ei, Revelyn of course stuck around so long as you were there. Personally, you were tired of both of them. They need to stop clinging to you like you're their mother. Ei, you understood why she clinged to you, considering she didn't see you for months on end, but Revelyn, who lived with you for like... the past month, it wasn't very understandable. Lile be for real, Revelyn. You not tired yet? Like. Girl. Stop embarrassing yourself and get some self respect and go where you're actually wanted.

So, for both your sanity and their's (Lie), you decided to leave both of them together to socialize and become the best of best friends. (Lie. You just wanted time to yourself and wanted to meet Yae Miko.) Of course, you were, for the first time, surprised to see both Ei and Revelyn unite together. Merely for the purpose of notetting you leave but hey, progress! They atleast united for a common goal, no matter how troublesome that may be for you.

Their combined forces weren't enough to deter you, in the end, you won and they were forced to talk to each other or sulk together, or maybe, a rare possibility, but have a heated make-out session. Who knows. Whatever works, works. They're on their own now and you're on your own, to meet Yae Miko and have a heated make-out session with her perhaps. It won't happen, maybe, but the thought is entertaining though. You're like, 93% certain Miko would agree if you asked. It's not like she hasn't suggested that before. Ah, enough thoughts. You're here.

"Good grace, it's such a heavy task to climb these hills to just be graced by your presence, Miko, " You let out a whine, leaning against one of thr shrine. "You should know my old bones can't hold for long-" A book was placed against your lips and a fluffy, really fluffy and soft, tail caressed your thigh sneakily. "My my, Your Divinity, you ought to know, I don't fancy you saying those words. You look very beautiful, and ravishing, might I add. " Yae Miko said, leaning in close to you with a smirk on her face.

You placed a hand on her wrist, gently removing the book. "I'm happy you think so, but might I say, you look even more delightful, " You replied back with a grin. This flirty playful banter was always your favorite thing to do in Inazuma, apart from watching Revelyn and Ei be at their throats, of course. "Oh please, Your Divinity, you flatter me. But we both know, you're the most beautiful-" You placed a finger on her lips. "Ahhh, shhh. Nothing more to speak of this topic. You can't argue with me on this, you're, of course, the most stunning woman in Inazuma, "

Miko let out an offended gasp, "Inazuma only? Is that my beauty's worth to you, Your Divinity? I'm offended, " She pouted, clearly putting up an act just for you.

"No no, my dear. I meant in whole Teyvat. It would be a crime for me to think your beauty isn't other worldly, "

And this playful banter continued on.

_________

On the other side, Revelyn and Ei were indeed having a heated make-out session. Not the kind you're thinking of.

"Oh, so as soon as my graceful creator leaves, you suddenly drop the act of cowardice?" Ei stared at Revelyn, a cold and unrelenting aura around her.

"Your creator...? Psssh," Revelyn let out a mocking laugh, "Please. Your words are blatantly false!" She glared at Ei, her fists clenching at her sides.

"Shut up, you witch, you casted a spell of sorts on my graceful creator, didn't you? That's why she is completely and utterly fooled by you!"

"Oh? I'll cast a spell on you too and turn you into a monkey if you don't shut up!"

You walked in with a smile. "Guys. I just had a make-out session with Miko-"

________

taglist: taglist: @shizunxie @dearloonies @iruiji @yani-dere @kiraisastay @fauxizs @salvationprodigy @thetruepair @lunalily19 @vvyeislazzy @ihonestlydontknowwhattonamethis @kaveh-is-pretty @plusea @i-have-a-lot-of-ocs @the-real-fandom-person @kunikuzushisbeloved @artwitchh @sadgutaches @irisxiel @atlaincorrect @warcelia @lorkai @muomoii @elakari @burningtyphoonlady @daily-average

@3noa3 @7smexy7diva @5sos-wdw @bre99 @kittieswitheverything @theblueblub @faejvst @ryver8000 @dreamlessnight @bunnyOu @goldenglow149 @callmehnooby

@angelofdarkness2 @anglicascorner

@pinxeajin @avalordream @boycigs @ilovemyhusbandaaravos

a/n: hi! if yr name is cut, then that means I couldn't tag you. if in the next part I won't be able to tag you, then your name will be removed from the taglist. please ask me to tag you again in the LATEST part to be readded to the taglist! thank you (❁´◡`❁)

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strlingsav · 5 months

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I need some... toe curling, mouth watering, hair ripping, blood spiking, heart racing, jaw clenching, rough, creamy, absolute filthy Simon...

Tension, tension, tension girl I'm feening

OKAY !! I'll do it!! A little drabble (not rly a drabble) just for you!

Fighting

– Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

— Yourself and Simon have an argument.

Explicit sexual content under the cut. Read at your own risk.

It was like running in circles- endlessly tired, exhausted, and finding yourself in the same fucking place you were when you started. It felt like nothing you ever had to say was reason enough to convince him to change. It was a tireless fight, begging Simon for more affection, more time, more attention than he was able to give.

It didn't stop the irritation from building, though. It crept under your skin when he'd sit on the sofa watching the TV instead of talking with you. When he'd get ready for bed and fall asleep without so much as a "goodnight".

You'd certainly grown sick of the distance. Of feeling like a stranger was living with you. Trying your hardest not to take up space or make a single noise for fear of pushing him even further away. Living in your home had turned into an abysmal state you didn't want to put yourself in.

It hadn't crossed your mind to approach him- not until you'd finally reached your wit's end, finally cracked the porcelain facade that had been saving your relationship. Not anymore.

He didn't expect it- in fact, things were fine, to him. Admittedly, his mind was elsewhere, though he had a good excuse; the toll of deployment. He needed a good reset, a recharge, and in the meantime, he had neglected you. Unintentionally, of course, but still, he'd made you feel unwanted, unloved- nearly a burden.

Your patience had snapped, run so thin it finally tore like a thread under tension. Though he thought nothing of it- his hands had taken hold of your waist, pulling you into his chest as you finished the dishes in the sink. You knew by the rigidity in his muscles and soft breaths against the back of your neck; he wanted you.

Any other time, you wouldn't resist him. The warmth of his palms, the smell of his body- he could pull arousal from even the deepest parts of you. Though now, you recoiled from his touch. You shrunk yourself down, pressing against the counter until he released his grip.

"You tired?" He asked.

You scoffed, so quiet and meek it was nearly pathetic. You were still afraid to say the wrong thing, to send him packing.

"No," You shook your head. Honesty was important, but you weren't sure you were ready to have this argument. So you settled for half-truths and cowardice.

His hands once again reached your hips, large fingers digging into your skin, wrapping a giant forearm around your middle as he pulled you into him.

"You want me to beg?" He mumbled in your ear- so clearly turned on by the idea of begging for a piece of you.

Your eyes clamped shut, swallowing harshly as you tried to resist temptation. It felt good, so fucking good, to feel his hands on you again, to have his voice in your ear, his soft breaths against your skin. You could've crumbled then and there, fallen into him and let him have what he wanted- but your body had a way of preventing such weakness.

You were sad. Instead of utterly aroused, soaking your panties, you felt sick, nauseous. It lodged in your throat, stung at your eyes and twisted your face into a look of contempt.

"You want me now?" You asked, slipping from his grip and throwing your dish towel on the counter.

He raised a brow, watching you. "Thought I was bein' obvious."

"You were," You nodded, your hand finding the counter for balance. "But you just pick and choose when you want me, right?"

His brows furrowed, and he took a step back to allow for some space between you.

"What's that s'posed to mean?" He tilted his head, eyeing you down.

Your heart had begun to race, your chest heaving to keep up with the pulse in your ears.

"You haven't touched me in weeks," You breathed out. "Haven't hardly said a word to me in weeks."

He sighed, hanging his head briefly. His eyes met yours and he nodded slowly.

"Takes time to get myself reacquainted after bein' gone. Thought you understood," He muttered.

"Don't blame me for this," You scoffed, though this time it was audible and poignant. "You want to fuck me but you won't spend time with me? Talk to me?"

He raised his brows in shock, tilting his head as if it could allow him another lead to follow. He stepped closer, trapping you between his arms with your back against the counter. You avoided his eyes, avoided letting him see the tears gathering in your waterline.

"I do wanna fuck you," He answered. His eyes glowered at you, menacing and almost threatening.

Your jaw clenched. A look of disgust crossing your features.

"You think if I didn't fuck you it'd change anything?" He asked, watching your eyes meet his. "You been missin' my attention, sweetheart? I know I miss bein' inside you."

You huffed, nostrils flaring as he brought his lips to your neck. Your hand reached his chest, using all your strength to push him off- he remained a statue, still pinning you against the counter.

"Don't fight me," He murmured. "I know you're mad- needy," He pressed his lips against your jaw, hunched over enough that he could whisper in your ear. "I'll make it up to you, love."

You wanted to roll your eyes, but his voice called to you like a Siren- it nearly made your eyes close to savour just how good it sounded to be taken care of. To be touched, fucked, by him again.

"I missed you," You admitted, still soured by his behaviour. "And you just want to fuck me."

He drew his hand up your side, his large hand encasing your waist.

"Missed you too," He said, like it was obvious. "Can't miss you and want you at the same time?"

His lips were inches from yours, forming a small, nearly unnoticeable smile. He liked the fight, the rejection; it only made him work harder for an even sweeter reward. His fingers worked open the button of your jeans, causing you to stutter.

"Y-you can," You trailed off, your head falling back as he sensuously dragged his lips up your neck, teeth softly scraping your flesh.

"Then what's the problem?" He mumbled.

You sighed, relaxing into his arms as his hand swiftly dove beneath your panties and his fingertips pressed against your clit.

Despite your adamant denial, you were wet. Pulsating, sore, desperate and needy. He was right- you missed his attention. Yearned so deeply for it, it nearly hurt.

His fingers drew soft circles around your clit, your body jolting with every rotation, your knees weakening against him. He had no qualms about holding you up while he touched you, nor when his fingers slid inside you so easily it made him chuckle.

"I'll take proper care of you, sweetheart," He said softly.

His lips met yours, in the middle of a gasp, fighting you to move your lips against his, accept his tongue in your mouth. You did- without hesitation, and let your hands glide over his shoulders so he could hold you up.

"Simon," You muttered. "More- please," You breathed into his neck.

Your hips rocked against his hand, his fingers deep in your pussy, throbbing around his digits while he coaxed whimpers and moans out of you. Your arousal was evident, loud echoes off the apartment walls of the mess he'd made of you.

He loved it. Loved hearing how fucking turned on you were. Loved that your pussy got wet so easily without more than a few strokes of his fingers. Loved that you clenched around his fingers and struggled to get closer, grasped at his shoulders and ground your hips to get more out of him. He liked setting the pace, though. Wanted to watch you cry and beg to go faster, harder.

He'd give you relief with his cock, instead. Wouldn't want to waste the feeling of your pussy tightening around him- it always made him cum even harder when you milked his cock. He withdrew his fingers, forcefully lifting you from the ground.

He entrapped your lips with his again, trudging down the dark hallway until he found the light of your bedroom and kicked the door open. He set you down, lifting his shirt over his head so you could run your hands over his abdomen.

You shivered, his broad shoulders flexing, swaying as he maneuvered toward you, forcing the back of your knees to hit the bed. You fell back, sitting on the bed and staring up at him expectantly.

"Turn over," He ordered, watching with amusement as you scurried to land on all fours.

Your head peered over your shoulder, lowering yourself to the bed as he stepped behind you. His belt clanked as he pulled it open, tugging his jeans down to reveal his cock. He'd been struggling with his own desire- as much as he'd missed you, he couldn't ever properly fuck you unless he knew he would be totally, completely present.

He ran his palms over your ass, drawing a shudder from your body as the warmth crept further up your waist. He lined himself up with your weeping cunt, slowly working his way inside with short, soft thrusts until his hips met your ass.

You were breathless- mouth agape, eyes fluttering shut as his cock nudged your cervix, stretching you out enough that your body erupted with goosebumps. He grunted softly at the feel of your pussy around him, the deliciously wet, plush walls inadvertently pulling him in. He too, shuddered, then bent at the waist to mould his chest to your back.

"'M sorry," He breathed against your shoulder blades. "Been neglectin' you."

It didn't bother you that Simon apologized when he was inside you- he was already vulnerable, already bearing himself to you; the apology sent warmth radiating through you.

"It's okay," You slurred, twisting your body to find his dark eyes already watching you. "Don't stop," You muttered, breathing out. "Just don't stop, baby- please," You moaned out, guttural and breathless while his thrusts pushed you forward on your hands.

His soft lips touched your shoulder, wrapping an arm beneath you to pull your back even closer, using his other hand to adjust the flesh of your ass so he could bury his cock even deeper inside you.

"Neglected this sweet fuckin' cunt too," He groaned. "Can never stay away from you- never get enough."

You sighed aloud, especially as his cock withdrew from your walls, leaving you empty and hollow- before sliding back inside. His arm moved to cling around your waist, his hard fingers sliding down your stomach to rub at your swollen clit fervidly.

"Don't do it again," You chided, though with half of your usual authority while he rutted his hips up against you. "I missed you," You muttered.

He left another gentle kiss against your shoulder, now breathing a bit heavier in your ear. You could feel the Adonis belt of his abdomen hit your ass, his dick angled just right as it rubbed inside you, his calloused fingers rubbing back and forth across your clit; your stomach had begun to tighten.

"Missed you too," He uttered, exhaling sharply when your pussy clenched around him. "Bloody fuckin' hell I missed you."

"Simon-" You gasped, your climax approaching at an unexpected pace while his words hit your ear, warm breath tingling your skin. "Keep going- I'm so close," You whined, your hips pushing backwards to force him inside you, faster, harder.

"Christ, love," He grunted. "Keep doin' that, 'n' I'm fuckin' done in," He chuckled, short and deep, hardly long enough for you to notice, but it moved through your back.

You came shortly after- knuckles white with the strength of your grip on the sheets, lips parted in a gasp, a heavy groan vibrating from your chest. Your stomach tensed, pussy tightening around his cock in short bursts, making his hips stutter with every thrust. As your eyes clenched shut, a black abyss of swirls and stars appearing behind your eyelids, you breathed out finally.

He wasn't far behind, finishing inside you as he always did, though he stayed still for a moment after, catching his breath. And when he finally came down from his climax, he fell to the bed, pulling you into his arms.

A soft kiss on your temple, his dick still lodged inside your worn pussy, coated with his cum, and he muttered a quiet, 'Night, love. We'll talk in the mornin'."

#cod mw2 #simon riley #ghost x reader #cod mwii #ghost smut #mwii #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley smut #strlingsavwrites

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tired-teacher-blog · 7 months

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Virgin Pro hero Deku who -despite being a little over thirty- is still clueless as to how he should speak or act around girls.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who is unable to maintain a steady relationship or even keep one going for over a couple of weeks because it never feels right.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who doesn't believe in casual hookups like one night stands, even with the countless admirers throwing themselves at his feet.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who's a hopeless romantic, spends most of his free time fantasizing about a perfect future with the perfect woman and building scenarios after scenarios of the happy life he dreams of having. Only, he can never assign a face to his perfect lady because he is yet to encounter her.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who wishes to one day have a kid of his own, a thought that often visits him but leaves a bitter aftertaste behind, as he is nowhere near it.

Virgin Pro hero Deku whose mind went completely blank for a millisecond before spiraling out of control the moment he saw you as he found himself inexplicably drawn to you, and his pathetic state only worsened since he didn't know how to properly approach you.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who spent weeks following you from afar, has finally found the face to his once faceless perfect woman.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who is a total klutz, was unaware of your eyes following him back, nor of the shy smile appearing on your face everytime you sensed him nearby.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who could not muster up the courage to talk to you, almost passed out the day you spoke to him for the first time.

Virgin Pro hero Deku whose palms became clammy and throat became dry— the moment you stood face to face with him, only nodded to your suggestion for a cup of coffee together as he did not trust his voice around you yet.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who soon came to realize that a mere glance from you is more lethal than the deadliest of villains he encounters daily.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who was certain you are the one for him the moment you laced your fingers with his and pulled him closer for a shy kiss goodnight as you both stood on your doorstep.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who kept smiling like a fool afterwards because the feeling of your lips against his own was addictive, he wanted more but was too shy to ask, regretting his cowardice the moment you walked into your house and closed the door behind you.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who rewinded that moment in his head all night long as he laid down in bed, still smiling while tracing his lips with his fingers and wishing you were there with him.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who couldn't believe his ears when the words "I love you" left your lips one evening, so casually, with a giggle following suit. He grabbed your hands and stared into your soul as he wordlessly anticipated to hear it again, and he did.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who stood nervously before you, eyes roaming your luscious curves while watching eagerly as your dress slid down your body and hit his bedroom's floor, fully exposing you to him.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who was lost at that moment between his burning desire for you, and an extreme embarrassment for the throbbing bulge he could not conceal behind his palms.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who dug deep inside his mind for any distraction that could keep him from cumming hard in his boxers as you dragged him to bed with you.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who moaned loudly against your neck while feeling the softness of your velvety walls for the first time in his life.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who refused to cum before guiding you to your own release, the hardest test he lived through as the overwhelming pleasure you both experienced was too much to resist, it was addictive and irresistible, keeping you both awake all night long as you explored ech other's bodies until you no longer could move a muscle, gasping for air and holding onto the other firmly, unfazed by the sticky mess connecting you together.

Virgin Pro hero Deku who's always been grateful you were his first, is now certain you'll be his last as he blissfully watched you walk down the aisle..

Divider by: @/cafekitsune

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prettyboykatsuki · 11 months

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✮ cw ; fem!reader, reader is a soldier, referred to as wife (they are engaged), domestic bliss, sfw

✮ wc ; 613

✮ a/n ; takes place before this drabble but it can be read stand-alone lol.

"If I ask you something, General," You say, voice tender as it is kind "Will you answer me?"

"Is there any reason not to?"

Your General. Your...fiance, is a kind man. Though he's frivolous, and lazy and hard to read. He is kind, you think, at the very least. That aspect of his character astounds you. Otherwise serious and wise. Knowledgeable to the point his logic is hardened like a shield. The General who can wield lightning. Your General, a man of high on honor, who has chosen to wed you for reason you cannot grasp even now.

Who doesn't not disrespect even once. As Captain, as solider, as wife. Only mirth in his eyes, when he addresses. Always what looks like love. Kisses and touches and gestures that feel like it. It might be silly, to seek this kind of verbal affirmation.

Kind. Easygoing. Playfully mischievous. All of that, and you're still so terrified to ask him. You open your mouth, only to close it. Shying away from your own vulnerability, from the possibility of a no. How devastating would it be, you wonder, to learn that this had simply been a misunderstanding.

"Maybe you'd think so," You conclude, sitting on the edge of your shared bed "If you heard it, you may not want to."

"What sort of question could trouble you this much, my dear?" He says, voice bordering on bemused. You look at your lap. Have you ever been so afraid? It's unlike you. You've fought many wars, won many battles. Among them, you have not feared pain nor death.

Perhaps. Perhaps, because it is not those things that you find your heart pounding. The finality of death and the burden of physical pain start feeling trivial. All of it feels so bearable in comparison to the ugliness of love.

You don't think you've ever been in love before.

Not like this, at least. You don't want to ask if he loves you. Any answer is too troubling. Still, you wish to know.

"Do you...well, I don't know - do you l-love me? Is what you feel for me love?"

"Do I love you?" He repeats, and your heart hammers so hard it makes you sick. What kind of cowardice has infected you? "Mm...I don't know."

You stiffen. The tears prick instantly as you soften your voice.

"I see."

"Love is too weak of a word. Something closer to adoration, or devotion. I do love you, but it's more accurate to say I adore you. I'm solely devoted to you," He says conversationally, like he hasn't just scared you to death "Love is love. It's more stifling than that." Jing Yuan concludes.

You turn to look at him, tear-struck and irritated. And the bastard is grinning, all lazy grin and bright golden eyes.

"You're awful," You say, readying yourself to stand and leave. But Jing Yuan is faster as he catches you. Drags you by your arms, looping his around your waist as he lays you on top of him "Let me go."

"I'm tired." He says back, closing his eyes. You turn frustrated in his arms. "Let's sleep."

"Jing Yuan. I will throw you out of my room. You scared me half to death!"

He laughs at that, opening his eyes to peer at you.

"Were you scared I would say no? How silly." He says, kissing your forehead "What other answer could there be?

"Plenty of them." You counter. Frustrated, yet relieved. Enough to bury yourself in his chest. He soothes you with his hand, palm splayed on your back. He laughs.

"Maybe to you," He says, whimsically "But to me there could only ever be one."

#jing yuan x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #writing tag #im thinking of them so much and always

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ponderingmoonlight · 5 months

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Can you do a tengen uzui x jealous reader like she tells as if he’s been ignoring her and distant but at the end it’s all good

Hehe I love that request as I already wrote something pretty similar a loooong time ago and this is the perfect excuse to publish it. Hope you like it even though it's a little more than what you've requested <3

(y/n) finding out her boyfriend Uzui Tengen cheated on her he did not

Pairing: Tengen x fem!reader

Word Count: 3,7k

Synopsis: Catching your boyfriend Uzui Tengen with another woman mid-action shattered your heart into pieces and made you leave him without hesitation. But is what you've seen the whole true?

Warnings: mentions of cheating, language, this is one of the first fics I've ever written in english (worked on it last in june lol) so please let me know what you think, a loooot of angst, comfort in the end

The way his fingers linger through her hair makes your stomach turn. Tengen’s touch traces down her neck, to her shoulders, before grabbing her hips passionately. You know the look in his eyes all too well, the fire inside them. It is foreseeable what will happen next.

Of course you know, given the fact that you are his girlfriend, his fiancé to be precise. Only you should know these intimate truths about his behavior, that his fingers will trace around her bellybutton next before gently pressing against her lower back. But you’re standing in the ice cold rain at night while she sits on his lap and enjoys his caresses.

You’re heart goes numb, the only thing you are able to register is your own blood rushing through your ears and the heavy rain running down your spine. You never expected that he would cheat on you. He is an attractive and strong man that is well liked by the ladies, but you are a striking and powerful woman yourself. A hashira, a former kunoichi. You thought that was adequate for him, that you were enough for him. Well, obviously that was not the truth.

Actually, you shouldn’t have been here at all. He left for an important mission this evening, stating he’ll be back in the morning. He gave you his usual breathtaking smile, devoured you in his strong arms. He said he loved you. But how can he love you when he touches another woman like he touched you a few hours ago? So the weird feeling that brought you here was right.

Thick anger begins to radiate through your whole body, making your hands shake uncontrollably. You can’t let him get away with this. You are far too valuable to put up with his behavior. He needs to know that you caught him, that you are well aware of his affair. And this bitch should know who she messed with. After all, his engagement ring is still sitting unmistakably on his finger.

Without thinking twice, you toss your throwing knives into her direction with usual precision. You never miss your aim, not even when you whole body shakes in rage. She cries out cowardice, the sleeves of her kimono caught under your blades before she is able to touch his stupid perfect face.

Fuck. His heart begins to race in panic. Tengen doesn’t have to look up to know it’s you with your signature rushing past his ears. Why the hell are you here? He told you he’ll be back in the morning. Your enraged face makes him swallow noisily, the way your dark hair sticks to your face, your uniform soaking wet from the durable rainfalls of the night. You look like a kunoichi ready to kill.

“How could you?”, you breathe out, locking your eyes dreadfully with his.

It hurts him to see you like this. He swore to never hurt you, always keen to never break this promise. But now you’re standing in front of him, your face twisted in anger and pain, the veins on your forehead pulsate hazardously.

“(y/n), what are you doing here? Let’s talk about it at home.”

Another throwing knife crashes just millimeters from his ear into the wall behind him. Fuck, you’re absolutely furious. To be honest, he would be too if he were in your place. Damn, why are you here?

“Arrogant boy, this is the end. I will never speak a word to you again. We are strangers.”

He frowns. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This shouldn’t happen, you shouldn’t be here, you-

You are gone.

Frantically he jumps up from the futon, not the least bit interested in the cries of the woman behind him. Tengen’s mind races, his hands begin to tremble in pain. He knows you well enough to realize that you’ll make your words come true.

-(y/n)’s POV-

You run. Through the dusky forest, away from him and this sight. Your heart scorches with pain in your chest. How could he do that to you? If he at least told you the truth beforehand, if he had stated you that there was another woman for him…You would never had thought that Tengen Uzui is a cheater. He treated you so well, the loving gleam in his eyes seemed so convincing to you this morning.

Now it’s all a pile of shards. Your past, your future - all gone. Bitter tears of disappointment burn your eyes and mix with the pelting rain. You really thought you knew him, that you knew his heart better than anyone else. Oh, you were so wrong.

Your unfocused feet stumble under a root, making you fall to the ground before you are able to react. Your hands clench in the sodden forest floor while your face contorts in pain. No, it’s no longer possible. You can’t hold it back any longer. A pained, bloodcurdling scream echoes through the lonely woods. Tears now take your sight completely, desperately trying to forget what you just saw. You were always so strong, so confident, but now you feel like your emotions are ripping you apart from the inside. He tore your heart into a thousand pieces, you wish it would stop beating within your longing chest. Why? Why does he just throw your life away like that? You thought you gave him everything he needs. Was it not enough for him? Did you do something wrong?

Your gaze wanders up into the starry sky. No. You gave him everything you have. It’s not your fault that this coward can’t see what you’ve had in each other and decided to betray you. Stand up, pick yourself up from the dirt and keep your head held high for at least a moment. You stand up gradually and look ahead.

“Mayumi.”

Your crow immediately sits on your shoulder at the sound of its name, briefly rubbing its head against yours. Normally you’re both not good at expressing your feelings to each other, but today she seems to understand you without further words.

“Lead me the way to the butterfly estate, please.”

“Of course, (y/n)-san”, she squeaks immediately in response and flies in front of you a few meters ahead.

As always, you move quickly and gracefully through the opaque forest around you, so you soon arrive at the butterfly mansion. This is the only place you want to be right know. Shinobu is a good friend of yours, never pushy or too curious. She always seems to truly care about you and your wellbeing, even though you seem a bit cold to some people. She understands you – hopefully also this late at night.

You knock on the door stridently. There’s no way you’ll be going home tonight, not if he could be there. But what if she doesn’t open the door? Where should you go then? Maybe Rengoku, but you couldn’t stand his optimism, Mitsuri surely burst into tears, Sanemi-

“(y/n)-san, we didn’t expect to be honored by your presence tonight!”

The little girl in front of you, Sumi you assume, breaks out in a sweat.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t announce myself beforehand. Is there any way to talk to Shinobu-san and stay here for the night? Of course I don’t want to impose my-“

“That is absolutely no problem, we are honored to invite you for the night, (y/n)-san! Please let me show you your room and call Shinobu-san!”

“That would be perfect, thank you so much”, you even manage to gift her with a small and rare smile.

The little girl leads you to a small but well decorated room with a freshly made futon in the middle. This room would be anything but flamboyant enough for him…You shake your head rigorous. No, you need to stop thinking about him. He isn’t worth you thoughts, your tears, your time. What he did was unforgivable.

“I didn’t expect to welcome you at my estate this late my dear. Oh, you are soaking wet! Sumi, please bring our guest a fresh yukata!”, Shinobu’s kind voice echoes through the room.

“I’m truly sorry for interrupting your peace this late at night, I just couldn’t go home”, you reply bitterly while staring into the distance.

As much as you want to forget him, he always catches up with you. Damn, why is this so hard? Isn’t his betrayal enough to keep your strength and self-respect?

“You know that I would never impose myself, but you are always welcome here and if you need a talk, just call for me.”

“He betrayed me, Shinobu. I saw him with another woman tonight”, you breathe out.

Her eyes widen in horror. Now she understands why you visit her in such a state. Without hesitation, she crosses the room and sits next to you on the futon.

“I shouldn’t feel sad, ashamed or guilty. What have I done? Why did he feel the need to run into another woman’s arms? I know my worth, Shinobu, but it truly haunts me. I really thought he loved me, I thought we had a future. It just…hurts.”

The cracking of your unusual composed voice causes Shinobu’s heart to drown in compassion. Oh, you didn’t deserve this at all. Even though you seemed a little cold from time to time, she knew too well that you have a heart of gold. You could always be counted on – both in combat and in private. As a former kunoichi it wasn’t easy for you to break with your old habits from time to time. Nevertheless, all other Hashira knew how dearly you loved Tengen. You two were even engaged. How? How can he just throw all of that away?

“I thought Oyakata-sama entrusted him with a mission tonight. Oh, (y/n), please…Don’t you ever blame yourself for the things you have seen. You are a truly outstanding woman with striking beauty and a heart of gold. Any man would be lucky to have you by his side. It’s not your fault in any way that he can’t see your worth!”

Her words leave you speechless for a moment, tears swell up in your eyes once more. The emptiness he left inside you makes it hard to breathe. Now that Shinobu has said it again and you’re sitting in her mansion, it’s getting too real. You will never wake up next to him, soak in his sleep drunken smile, his arms will never wrap around your waist so tightly again. You loved him so much. His betrayal shattered your heart into a million pieces.

“I loved him and our life together so much. We-we…we wanted to get married next year in the cherry blossom season. All the things he said to me were worthless, as well as the life we built up together. He threw it away this night. He hasn’t even tried to explain himself for me, he just said that he will talk to me at home.”

You can’t help yourself. Crying seems to be the only thing that feels right at the moment. Shinobu holds onto your shaking frame tightly, not daring to let go of you for even a second. No, you didn’t deserve this. But if this is what you need, she will gladly sit beside you and hold you in silence until your heart feels lighter.

A ray of sunlight hits you in your face harshly. Your eyes seem to be glued together, you are only able to open them with difficulty. A gaze around makes you realize immediately that you are at the butterfly estate, with Shinobu curled up in a small ball on the futon next to you, breathing softly. The pain of this night hits you like a wall all over again when your sleep-drunken brain begins to realize why you are laying here and not in Tengen’s arms.

“Important message! Important message! Oyakata-sama desires to see all the Hashira for an important meeting at his estate! Please hurry!”

The sound of Shinobu’s crow wakes her up from her sleep immediately.

“Oh, I must have fallen asleep here. I hope you didn’t feel disturbed by me, (y/n). A meeting you say? But we just met. Well, maybe something important has happened. We shouldn’t let them wait any longer!”

Your stomach twists in disgust. A meeting of all Hashira means that Tengen must come too. No, you’re not ready to see him yet, you might break down when his gaze wanders to yours. Your hands start shaking all over again.

“(y/n), listen. I understand your anxiety at the thought of this meeting, but it’s not worth making you feel this way – he is not worth making you feel this way. You are the strongest woman I know with a tough will that is unmatched. If anyone is capable of coming forward immediately after a betrayal like this, it’s you. He doesn’t deserve the pleasure of your grief. Stand up, put on your uniform and clean your face from the stain of tears. You are strong, you are brave and you are a Hashira. You are more than enough by yourself, (y/n).”

Shinobu is right. You are a warrior, your abilities outstand those of other demon slayers by far. It is not your reputation or attitude to let your grief show. Tengen should see what he has lost.

“Give me 10 minutes to get myself ready. I’ll meet you outside”, you instruct Shinobu with your usual firm voice.

You put on your uniform, wash your face and brush your hair. In the mirror you look like the woman you generally are. Only the faint hint of dark circles and your slightly red-shot eyes tell a trained gaze that you’ve had a rough night. As you position your throwing knives in your belt, you lift your head with one last look in the mirror and step out into the fresh air of the morning.

You will get through this meeting and build your own future afterwards.

-the meeting-

Tengen is uneasy and more than concerned. You didn’t come home tonight. Well, considering what you saw it would have surprised him if you had, admittedly. But where are you? Are you alright? Dark circles decorate his face. As if he could have just closed one eye not knowing where you have been. You weren’t supposed to see him like this, in the arms of another woman. He knows you well enough to be aware of the fact that he is dead for you. But he has to explain himself, you have to at least give him a chance to see you, to talk to you. Will you be present at today’s meeting? No matter how hurt you are, your sense of duty will surely not let you miss it.

“Shinobu, (y/n), it is so nice to see you again! I feared you might not come when Uzui showed up alone!”, Rengoku’s strong voice shouts out.

His eyes snap up immediately to catch a glimpse of you. Damn, you look so good. Even with the slightly blood-shot eyes that betray your flawless face, you’re appearance is still breathtaking and composed. But your eyes don’t even look for him in the crowd of Hashira. Instead, you greet Rengoku with a small smile.

“Well, the last time wasn’t too long ago. I wonder why we meet again so soon. Something important must have happened”, you reply calmly.

You can sense him immediately, the way his eyes dart all over your body the second Rengoku announces your entrance. Your heart almost beats out of your chest, your knees go soft as butter. A new wave of aching and wrath washes over you and leaves you dizzy. No, you must stay focused. Don’t let him throw you off course.

“Welcome, my children. Please join me inside, the clouds in the sky look like rain”, Oyakata-sama announces calmly.

Out of instinct, you bow down in front of him immediately. You didn’t even see or hear him coming. Focus on the meeting, don’t look at him. You will get through this.

Shinobu gently grabs your arm and pulls you back up to follow the rest of the Hashira inside.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you”, she gently murmurs into your ear.

You can’t help but gift her with a smile and squeeze her arm softly. You can’t thank her enough for being such a great support to you during this difficult time. Will you ever be able to reciprocate with her?

“Thank you for blessing me with your presence, even though we just met a few weeks ago. I’ve tasked Tengen with a special mission that will bring us closer to our goal of finding and slaying Muzan Kibutsuji alongside his Upper and Lower Moons. Tengen, would you mind explaining to all of us what you have accomplished?”

Out of instinct, you glare at Tengen’s back in front of you while your mind is battling uncontrollably. A special mission? Closer to our goal of finding and slaying Muzan Kibutsuji? Why didn’t you know about all this? What mission does Oyakata-sama mean?

“I have been observing and investigating the area around the entertainment district for some time. Unexplained deaths, countless attacks in the nights, women that leave without explaining. A place that only comes alive in the darkness seemed like the perfect place for a demon, maybe even an upper ranked one. And given the fact that I am the flashiest men within the pillars, I decided to examine further. I talked to the women there and let my flamboyant charm play so that they dared to tell me something. Tonight I was able to find out that one of the oiran seems to be particularly cruel and females who got in her way always mysteriously disappeared or were found dead. Unfortunately, I could not find out the name of said woman, but I am almost certain that she is a part of the Upper Moons.”

You threaten to spill the contents of your stomach down Giyu’s neck in front of you. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Is that why he met this woman? Is that why he put up with her caresses, to get information? Your ears are ringing deafeningly loud while you can’t help but stare at Tengen in disbelief. All of this pain, his betrayal, your tears, all of this was a lie?

“Oh my…”, Shinobu breathes out next to you, covering her mouth with her hand.

Is that really true? Was all of this for nothing? Now what are you supposed to do with this information? Your head begins to spin in confusion.

You need to get out. Now.

“Sorry, I need a moment”, you mumble under your breath, stumbling awkwardly into the direction of the door.

“(y/n), wait!”, his strong voice shouts behind you.

The last thing you want to do right now is talk. You are absolutely confused and furious. If it was all about a damn mission, why didn’t he tell you before he flirted with that woman? He hasn’t told you a word about his investigations. Not.a.single.word. You thought you were partners, you trust him with your life. Why did it have to come to this?

“(y/n)…”

You see nothing but red. With a swift motion, your small frame lunges over and pins him to the text wall, your throwing knife pressed against his neck.

“Why didn’t you fucking tell me”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

For the first time since last night, your eyes lock with his. Oh, he looks absolutely gorgeous with his hair a little messy and his sorrow-filled gaze. But no, you can’t break your façade now. He trampled on your trust, your feelings, your relationship.

“I’m sorry I had nothing to say that night, but it was-“

“That night? You lied to me the whole time! You infiltrated the entertainment district every day for weeks without telling me! How can I trust you? How do I know that what I saw last night was just an act?”, your toe-curling yelling echoes through the estate of Oyakata-sama.

Fuck, you couldn’t care less about the fact that everyone just heard you. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, desperate for air. Suddenly he grabs your arm smoothly with one hand, turns you around and now pushes your frame against the wall he used to lean on a moment ago. Your throwing knife falls to the ground rustling.

“I did this to protect you!”, he taunts tormented, his face now only inches away from yours.

“You don’t need to protect me, I’m a pillar-“

“This ain’t no walkin’, (y/n). It’s one of the upper moons, the strongest demons to ever exist. Exposing you to this danger, allowing you to interfere…I wouldn’t be able to look at myself in the mirror anymore if I’d allowed that”, he interrupts you with unusual low voice.

“I thought you were cheating on me, that everything we built was a lie. When I saw you in her arms…”

You have to stop mid-sentence with hot tears swelling up your eyes once more. This night was the ultimate hell for you. If felt like you’re dying from within every time your thoughts wandered to him of their own accord. You tried to be strong and independent, told yourself over and over again that you don’t need him when in reality, all you hoped for was for this to be a misunderstanding.

“I would never cheat on a woman as flamboyant as you. (y/n), I hope you understand that I had no other choice. Both you and me know all too well that you couldn’t have held back, risking the mission’s success along with your life. Let me handle that, trust your flashy fiancé and his skills”, he whispers, gently caressing your cheek.

God, his touch burns like a thousand fires on your skin. All this time you thought you’d never get that pleasure again. You can’t help but snuggle your face in his hand, eyes closed to allow yourself this intimate moment. While you won’t easily forgive him for keeping you in the dark, you’re just glad that your dark fears of tonight are not reality.

“Just be glad I missed on purpose”, you mutter into his hand.

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hanasnx · 11 months

Text

trust

summary: your little crush on the lord you serve is exacerbated when he saves your life.

word count: 0.8k | character(s): darth vader x reader

notes: it was stuck in my head; you and vader aren’t in a relationship but you work together and get caught in this mess together.

warnings: vader being the lil bitch he is <3 no gore no violence tbh

“Look out!” the man overhead jeered, gripping tightly around your upper arm as he haphazardly tossed you off the open hatch. You yelped out of instinct, before landing hard in the arms of your lord.

Darth Vader holds you much like a bride, and the chaos around you falls away. The gaze of his visor is fixed on the ship you were just thrown from, and he is eerily silent. In one dark second, you fear you’ve disappointed him, and the current compromising position becomes most dire.

“Put me down!” you demand, thrashing in his grip out of humiliation. Complying, he drops your legs, and your feet are met with the nimble peak of the spire you both now balance on. Your toes overstep the edge, and once your eyes meet the ground far below, you panic. The adrenaline of the setting controls you, and you cling onto the Sith Lord. “Pick me back up- pick me back up!” Whatever is within reach: his cape, his robes, his shoulders are all fair game to use to your advantage, climbing up him without a second thought.

His concentration and his freedom to force the shuttle to hold— to tear it back to him in order to escape this and teach those who wronged him a lesson— is broken, now focused on you and your frightened idiocy. The arm around your middle remains, but he grabs hold of your wrist as he stumbles back because of how you throw yourself at him. You scream in the face of death, and he counter-balances with your weight. As the two of you straighten, sharing the limited space chest to chest, an intense red cakes your cheeks from the proximity as well as your display of cowardice. He towers over you, and you feel the weight of his arms around you.

If it were anyone else, he’d care not if they plunged to meet the Maker, but it was you. As infuriating as it is.

“I’m—“ you begin your apology, but you are swiftly interrupted.

“Calm yourself.” His rumbling command rolls through like a thunder, and you obey him so as to not worsen your unlucky circumstances. “I have no time for your groveling. There are more pressing matters at hand.”

You gulp, and you nod.

His arm moves to grasp your other wrist, raising them above your head, and twisting you delicately— much like a dainty doll— so your back is to him, his indicators jabbing into your skin. You try to ignore how much you like him taking control of a situation, so you don’t have to. Habitually, your fingers cup over his gloves, and tighten when he lifts you. Your feet part from the ground, and point, swaying in his hold as you gather the words.

“Wait, wait, what are you doing?”

“I’m going to drop you.” he replies as he steps forward, the vision of life-defying height causing a lightning bolt of terror to course through your veins.

“What?” you cry out, your legs kicking out, begging to be reinstated to the spire as narrow as it is. “No, no, my lord, please, I’ve done nothing—“

“Quiet! I am not condemning you to execution! I am going to catch you.” The anger in his voice, reminiscent of frustration rather than wrath, makes you tremble like a newborn fawn anyway.

“What? No!”

“It is the only way.”

“It is not!”

Still he keeps you as you are, and you fight off tears.

“You chose to ruin our chances when I could’ve caught the prosecutor's stolen shuttle! Accept your fate or die.”

“Stop!”

His grip loosens, and you slip through, the thrill of falling shooting your stomach into your chest. Wind rips through your hair so loud you cannot hear your own scream. A cushion of air, invisible to the eye, envelopes you, slowing your descent. It’s nothing, there is no matter nor pressure; you float yet you are not feather-light. Your confusion interjects your cry, looking up to see Vader’s steady and shaped hand. He caught you, like he said he would.

His range is incredible, and you wouldn’t have believed it if you didn’t witness it. The spire he remained at the top of, was kilometers tall. Yet you sense no struggle as the force around you dissipates, and you land curtly onto the sand. You check on the Sith, your predicament now resolved means you adopt a new one. How is he going to get down?

Your question is answered as quickly as it was asked.

The dark red of his sith blade ignites, filling into its form. You watch as he steps off the spire, and sinks his saber into its side. He slides down at a record pace, but he outstretches his hand, combining the efforts of the minimal friction of his weapon with the padding of the force.

Heavy, he dents the ground when he makes contact, and like the lovesick fool you are, you’re entranced the entire time. The spire crumbles behind him, influenced by his opposing force pressure, the dust and debris clouds everywhere but him and where he steps.

You’re not even spared a side glance as he passes you.

“Come.” he recalls. Loyal, like a dog, you do as you’re told.

#indy: drabbles #ch: vader #darth vader drabble #x gn!reader #darth vader fanfiction #darth vader imagine #sw #star wars #darth vader x reader #star wars fanfiction #no smut #slow burn #romance #burnt!vader

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underhousearrestblog · 1 year

Text

Music To Take Your Revenge To | A.T.

(summary) Rhaenyra sent two of her children – her son and only daughter – to negotiate at the Storm’s End. Aemond takes his revenge by killing Lucerys but turns out that is only half of the revenge he craves...

(warnings) some manhandling... swear words... murder of a child... minor things like that...

(pairings) Aemond Targaryen x female!Strong!reader (main; romantic), Jacaerys Velaryon x reader (familial; arranged to be married)

(genre) enemies to lover-ish

(reminder) Y/N – your name

(word count) 4.6k

(also) reader has a dragon – Phoenix (because I said so)

(also) flashback’s in Italics

(also) I also wrote that lord Borros would be willing to marry one of his daughters to reader who is a woman in this imagine – now I know he probably never would consider that but I don’t care...

(also) I actually plan on finishing this one... in the next year or so...

HAPPY READING!

You couldn’t help glancing at your brother who flew by your side. You could tell he was giving you a smile once he caught you checking up on him but it was a nervous smile. One you give to try to give reassurance. As you neared Storm’s End, the nervous anticipation only got stronger but, against every instinct in your body and mind, both of you kept steady onward.

Rain was pouring heavily, as both of you landed. You waited up for your brother while he reassured his dragon to stay calm, while your own dragon, Phoenix, seemed unbothered. You would’ve felt proud if you weren’t feeling so anxious.

A loud roar reverberated through the air, once Lucerys was by your side. Both of you immediately looked towards where the sound came from just for your blood to freeze in your veins.

Vhagar.

And what it implied was even worse.

Aemond.

Lucerys and you exchanged glances and started moving towards the entrance.

This was not the time for cowardice. Your mother had sent you as her representatives. Your uncle being here meant nothing. It was a long time since either of you had seen him. Your brother last saw the prince at the chaotic family dinner.

You last saw him right after it.

Strong boys.

How fucking dare he?

You were fuming, and you were tipsy but, most importantly, you were fucking offended.

Drunk ‘you’ got upset over shit that sober ‘you’ would bite her tongue upon learning. But now the gates of anger were wide open, as you strolled towards your uncle’s chambers.

Armed with way too much confidence and arrogance, you stepped in front of the guard that stood before prince Aemond’s door. You wanted to fight. Fight someone. Throw a tantrum.

With your mind, you understood that fighting a trained guard was unnecessary and would end up with you losing but right now losing didn’t matter as long as you got to fight.

Which is why it made you so much more angry when the guard simply stepped aside and opened the door for you.

Your eyebrows raised, as you disregarded him as if he had grown as second head.

- You’re just letting me past? – you sounded petty, as if you had wanted to scream about not being let in.

Because you did.

- You are allowed to enter at any time, - the guard calmly explained. – Orders of prince Aemond.

You opened your mouth and shut it again. Somehow it felt like an extra slap in the face after dinner. He didn’t even thought of you as a threat. He saw your brothers as bastards and completely ignored you who was also your mother’s child from Ser Harwin Strong. He openly let you into his chambers because he had no fear of you doing anything to him.

You simply didn’t matter.

Your brothers did.

Daemon did.

Your mother did.

You did not.

- You may come in, niece, - Aemond’s voice sounded from the inside of his chambers.

Confusion temporarily had made your anger subside but now it came back full force. You marched inside his room, ready to cuss him out or something but then Aemond turned around and your words died on your tongue.

He wasn’t wearing his eye patch. You could an emerald stone where his eye used to be, and somehow it made him even more handsome than the eye patch did.

Nobody could waterboard that information out of you.

Aemond searched over your face and, as if guessed your thoughts, smirked.

- You know, dear niece-

You raised your fist and punched him in the face. In around the same spot you brother had at the dinner. Aemond’s face swung to the side.

- You do know that I’m a bastard too, right? – you had no idea where you were going with this.

Your breathing had become erratic, and you almost shook with anger.

- No doubt about that, dear niece. You all have a signature punch, - Aemond touched his cheek in an almost soft manner. – It does not live up to the Strong name.

He smiled, watching you furious. Then he leaned in closer.

- Your father would be disappointed.

You refused to step back, and so both of you ended very closely together. Your head only came up to his chest so you had to look up to see his face.

There was something sensual about the way Aemond’s emerald shone down at you, as he towered over you.

- Why would you call out my brothers like that? – you hoped your words weren’t slurred.

Aemond rolled his one working eye and turned around, looking almost bored.

- Why don’t you ask the question you came here to ask, Y/N? – he grabbed the eye patch that was sitting on the table and went over to the mirror. – I thought you were famous for your sharp tongue...

You took a deep breath to calm down and closed your eyes.

You were drunk.

It was definitely not the time to express any feelings you had.

When you opened your eyes, you were met with Aemond quietly watching you from across the room. He had an almost understanding expression on his face. As if he felt... sorry for you.

With any and all common sense you had left in you, you turned to leave. This was not worth losing your pride over.

In your mind, it was better to be ignored than to be perceived as a petty child.

- Nevermind.

As you opened the door, the guard that had let you in, stood in front of the door, completely blocking you from exiting.

You sighed. Coming here was such a bad idea...

- Tell your dog to move, uncle, - you asked, not looking away from the guard.

- Unfortunately for you, princess, - you could feel the small smile in Aemond’s voice, - while you are allowed to enter my chambers on your own, you are not allowed to leave without permission...

You turned back around.

And immediately took a step back, bumping into the knight at the door, once you noticed how close Aemond had gotten to you.

As Aemond noticed that your back was lightly touching the man’s arm, he harshly grabbed you by the arm, dragged you back inside and slammed the door shut.

Turning around to face you, you noticed that his nonchalant mask was slipping. He looked slightly irritated.

- Don’t be a brat, princess, - he tilted his head slightly to the side. – You came here to confront me, to demand something from me. So do it.

You shook your head, realizing that this – just like everything else that involved your uncle – was planned by him, and you beautifully executed your part of his plan by voluntarily coming to see him... alone... in private... just the two of you...

- I think you came here because your fragile little pride could not take on the fact that I didn’t add you to your mother’s bastard list, sweet niece, - he looked smug, stepping closer to you. – I think you’re neglected by your own family and cannot stand to be ignored by me.

His gaze traveled down to your neck, lower down to your neckline until he found what he was searching for. His fingers wrapped around your necklace that had a key on it. He pulled you in closer by it.

- Is that what you want, Y/N? – his pull on your necklace tightened and you were forced to lift you head up.

Your lips were mere centimeters away from his, as he bent down.

- Do you want me to call you a filthy bastard who does not deserve the title of a princess? – he asked in a low voice. – A filthy bastard who’s only deserving to be my personal little whore?

You shook your head but ashamed realized that his words truly made you aroused. Your breathing had become shallow once again. This time, not out of anger.

- Huh? – he whispered. – You want to be put in your place so badly?

You turned away, disgusted.

That might’ve turned you on but that was not the reason you were offended.

- You do not see me as an equal to my brothers, - you stated, bitterly.

Out of all people, you were disappointed that Aemond – specifically him, one of your closest childhood friends – was just like all the other men.

- That was the reason my fragile little pride, - you mocked his words, - could not stand your speech at dinner.

Aemond seemed taken aback by your words, carefully examining your face. His fingers loosened from the key and he looked confused.

- Are you for real, Y/N? – he looked downright angry. – You want to be an equal in something that is used to degrade and put down you brothers?

On a purely prideful level, Aemond could understand your need for being treated equally. He had felt the same need so many times, standing next to Aegon who was the first-born son and so, by proxy, the better son. However, what you did not understand, was that the very reason Aemond hadn’t called you a bastard at dinner, wasn’t because he saw you as equal to your brothers.

He saw you as better.

- You are just like the rest of them, - you pushed him out of the way, and he didn’t resist.

The knight at the door didn’t dare to stop you from leaving.

As you entered the hall at Storm’s End and your little brother started to recite the message your mother had given you, you felt goosebumps appearing on your skin. The tiny hair on your scalp stood up, and you shuddered. Suddenly, you seemed very cold, despite the warm clothes you had worn.

Your eyes searched over the dark hall, trying to find the source of your discomfort. Deep inside you knew who you were searching for... Vhagar outside... But you didn’t want to admit it.

But there were no more excuses to be made, once your eyes found Aemond’s across the hall. He stood a bit aside from lord Borros, confident and poised.

You shared your brother’s nervousness, as he, too, noticed your uncle.

Your hand subconsciously went to your sword. Aemond’s eyes lazily traveled down your body to where you kept your hand.

He seemed greatly pleased and not at all surprised that you had come with your brother.

Perhaps, it was because he knew that in your fruitless and desperate attempts to be seen as your brothers’ equal in your parents’ eyes, you would do anything. Even die.

You had only half-listened to lord Borros’ speak but you perked up at the mention of a marriage.

- King Aegon at least came to me with a marriage offer, - lord Borros didn’t point anything further but you knew who the marriage pact involved.

Aegon was already married so it left only Aemond. You were irrationally pissed at yourself for feeling disappointment and hurt at the announcement.

- Which of my daughters will you marry? – lord Borros demanded your brother.

- Lord Borros, I’m not free to marry, - your brother sounded much more confident than you felt.

This was going awry. And fast.

- I’m already betrothed.

Lord Borros eyes shifted towards you, and you calmly stood your ground.

- Are you free to marry, girl? – he asked you in a harsh tone, addressing you for the first time since you arrived. – You are your mother’s child so you could be used for an alliance as well...

Seemed like every pair of eyes had shifted on you.

None were angrier than the ones belonging to your uncle.

Was he angry that lord Borros had acknowledged that you are a valid candidate for the marriage to one of his daughters?

- Lord Borros-

- My sister is not free to marry either, - your brother said, cutting you off. – She’s arranged to be married to Jacaerys Velaryon.

Lord Borros seemed amused at the thought, not being used to the Targaryen marital ties that never extended far outside its familial ones.

- So you come with empty hands, - lord Borros announced.

Your eyes kept shifting to your uncle, who didn’t seem very pleased. Was it because you and your brother had shown up? Was it your engagement? Was it his hatred for Lucerys? Was it his hatred for you?

- Go home and tell your mother that the Lord of Storm’s End is not some dog that she can whistle up at need to set up against her foes, - lord Borros dismissed you.

The bad feeling you had since the moment of landing was getting stronger. You felt your throat closing up.

Your brother took a step further towards the lord but your hand instinctively wrapped around his upper arm to keep him back.

- We shall take your message to the queen, my lord, - you announced, ignoring the look of desperation your brother gave you.

Both of you turned around to leave, with the guards doing the same. You refused to let out the breath you were holding until you were out the door and safely on your way back. Lucerys was few steps ahead of you when you heard:

- Wait!

It wasn’t the voice of Borros. It was Aemond’s. Cold washed over your body. Neither one of you dared to move for a split second before turning around to face Aemond. You could feel his gaze run all over your body before settling on your younger brother who was half-hidden behind your back.

- My lord Strong, - he said to your brother before his eye shifted to your form; with a mocking smile he added, - my lady Strong.

You gritted your teeth. So now he acknowledged you? Here, out of all places?

- Did you really thought you could fly about the realm, trying to steal my brother’s throne at no cost?

You knew the knights of lord Borros would not defend you. You knew that Lucerys wouldn’t be able to take on Aemond. And, no matter how proud you were of your skills in the battlefield, you were still not match for your uncle.

- We will not fight you, - your younger brother announced. – We came to deliver a message, not to fight.

In that moment you thanked every god there was that you had come with Lucerys and not your other brother.

- Fight would be little challenge, - he calmly explained, then his one good eye, again, settled on you. – Entertaining but not enough nevertheless.

Your hands were shaking so badly that you were sure Aemond could see them even from across the hall.

Surely lord Borros wouldn’t just allow Aemond to slaughter two people in his hall, right?

- No, - prince reached for his left eye and removed the eye patch. – I want you to put out your eye.

Your hands stilled, as you looked at Aemond’s face. Beautiful as ever, deadly as ever but that wasn’t what made your heart skip for a moment.

It was a sapphire.

The sapphire.

Your sapphire.

- I wanted to give you this before I left, - eight-year old you sat down next to ten-year old Aemond with a small box in your hands. – My dad gave this to me as a gift.

Aemond looked at the box in your hands and lifted the lid. Inside sat two sapphire jewels, both identical and attached to small chains for wearing as necklaces.

The little boy beside you smiled, and that made you smile.

- My dad said to give the other half to the person I love the most, - you explained, shyly. – My soulmate.

Aemond looked at you in surprise. Of course, you were his best friend and meant the world but this gift – the symbolism of your friendship – made him realize that his eternal affection is, in fact, reciprocated.

- If you don’t feel comfortable, I un-

- I’ll take it, - he pulled his jewel out and put it closer to his left eye to look at it closer.

Aemond saw the moment you realized it was your gift he wore in place of his lost eye. He looked self-satisfied with your anger.

Because that meant that you weren’t apathetic. You still felt something for him. Even if that something was hatred.

- As payment for mine.

You were known for minding your business and keeping cool in stressful situations. Perhaps, if you had been there alongside Aemond, Baela, Rhaena and your brothers, outcome of that night might have been different.

You minding your business, however, ended right when someone came after your family.

- One will serve, - Aemond threw your brother a knife but it landed right in front of you.

Nobody in the entire room moved. Everyone was frozen still, waiting. Waiting for something horrible to happen. Waiting for something irreversable to go down.

- I would not blind you, - Aemond’s entire focus was on your brother. – I plan to make a gift of it to my mother.

Even though most of Lucerys was hidden behind you, all Aemond’s eye saw your brother. You didn’t exist. Once again.

Lucerys stepped in front of you and calmly took in the knife, laying at your feet. You could feel his nervousness but, like the true son of your mother’s, his voice didn’t give it away.

- No.

Your uncle didn’t seem to breathe for a moment.

- So you’re a craven as well as a traitor.

Lord Borros seemed to understand before anyone else did what was about to happen.

- NOT HERE! – his voice boomed into the void cold that seemed to fill the hall.

You saw Aemond move before your brother did.

- GIVE ME YOUR EYE OR I WILL TAKE IT, BASTARD! – Aemond went straight for your brother, grabbing his own knife from the ground.

Your movement was almost instinctual. You saw your brother take a step backwards, so you roughly pushed him behind your back right before Aemond reached you.

Aemond’s cold hand grabbed your throat, as his knife was pushed against your eye.

For some reason – anticipation, fear or surprise – you didn’t close your eyes. Maybe you wanted to see the reaction Aemond would have once he’d realize what he’s done.

Would there even be one?

He roughly pulled you closer by the hand wrapped around your throat.

For the length of one single breath nothing happened. Then you saw a flash of sudden regret appear in his eye, as he watched his knife being placed right before your eye. His face conformed into something of a disbelief.

All Aemond could think about was how very close he had gotten to harming you. He saw what could’ve happened like it was engraved in his brain. You bleeding out, as his hand held your cut-out eye. You looking at him with surprise, disgust and eventually, coldness.

His right hand, the one holding the knife, shook.

He so very slowly pulled the knife away, his one seeing eye searching desperately for any blood or harm. His other hand, wrapped around your throat, feeling your pulse and breath, stayed where it was.

You suddenly realized you hadn’t been breathing at all. You quickly inhaled but it sounded almost like a sob to Aemond who looked at you in utter horror now.

She’s fine, she’s fine, she’s okay, Aemond tried to convince himself. She’s fucking fine!

Once his mind started to comprehend, he yanked you right into his chest by the hand that still had a hold on you. The same hand buried itself into your hair and pulled it hard.

You could feel Aemond’s ragged breathing in your ear, as he leaned down to whisper:

- You will pay for that, princess, - you could still feel him shaking. – And I’ll make sure you never do stupid shit like that ever again.

Then, once he straightened up, he pushed you backwards in such a rough manner that you almost lost your balance. All you could see on his face was anger.

Was he angry at you? For risking your life?

Was he angry at himself? For almost ending said life?

- Your eye won’t do, - he spat out venomously, before adding, - bastard.

At least he had gotten around to acknowledging you.

You had completely forgotten about your brother until his hand grasped yours. His hand, too, was shaking, and you realized that so was yours.

Were you actually scared of Aemond?

That thought had never occurred to you before.

Aemond’s gaze slid down to your intervened hands. His lips pulled into a smirk, as he put his knife back inside his coat.

- Enjoy your time with your brother, princess, - he said.

Once both of you had gotten outside, Lucerys immediately pulled you into a hug. Your breathing was uneven, and you weren’t sure whether you were actually sobbing or not.

On shaky legs, you got back onto your dragon and took off. Your brother stayed right by your side this time. You pushed everything you thought and felt in the back of your mind. You could deal with that back home. This was more important.

And then there it was...

A shadow.

It covered both of your dragons and came from right above. For a second, you thought that you might’ve flown under some storm clouds but then the clouds moved and you realized it was a dragon.

Vhagar.

Aemond.

You looked at your brother, both of you, with no words exchanged, understood each other. Both of your dragons shot up into the clouds to gain height.

Lucerys got there first and went through the storm clouds, but as you neared the same spot, the larger dragon’s wing hit your Phoenix right in the face. You were knocked to the left, and only the belt of your saddle kept you seated. But your dragon quickly went towards the water in a wayward manner.

She quickly regained balance, and you nervously looked around in the rain.

What was Aemond trying to do?

He probably knew knocking Phoenix aside wouldn’t do much harm...

But, as you watched Vhagar with Aemond shoot up into the sky while you were left below to calm your dragon, you realized he wasn’t trying to harm you. Or kill you.

He was separating you.

You flew towards the same spot both Lucerys and Aemond had disappeared just moments ago. You could almost feel the sunshine on your face, as you urged Phoenix to gain speed.

Almost there.

Almost-

Your dragon was hit once again, this time the blow was more powerful. Phoenix screeched, as you were knocked out of the saddle. Staying seated on an uncontrolled dragon with no saddle was difficult, something you hadn’t learned before, and you realized you were going down.

Only while trying to keep one of the rains in your hands for some balance, you realized what had hit you.

It wasn’t Vhagar.

It was Arrax.

Parts of Arrax.

One of his wings, now ripped off, was floating in the air right beside your own dragon, while the rest of his body free-fell into the sea. Arrax’s head and back, along with the saddle and your brother, were all gone.

Phoenix was uncontrollable, nearing the water at the same speed as the dead dragon next to you, and you grasped the rains with all your strength, waiting to hit the water.

***

Pale light sneaked behind your eyelids, as you felt your body being lifted up in someone’s arms, out of water.

Your head swung to the left. Opening your eyes, all you saw over your rescuer’s shoulder was water.

Your wet hair stuck your face and neck. Freezing coldness swept over your body, as your fingers dug into a man’s jacket, desperately trying to cling to him and seek his body heat. Your gaze slowly moved toward their head and even with the dirty water making your vision unclear as you blinked a lot, you saw long, white hair.

A Targaryen’s hair.

- Relax, - Aemond threw out carelessly. – You’re safe.

Those were the words he murmured a lot under his breath, as he walked towards the shore.

You’re safe.

She’s safe.

Safe.

Alive.

- Lucerys, - your voice trembled with unspoken question. – Is he...?

- Dead, - Aemond suddenly stopped once both of you were completely out of the water and roughly almost dropped you in sand.

Your eyes burned. Either from tears or the dirty water, or both. Your throat constricted, as you took deep breaths.

Only then you realized that it also burned when you breathed. Did that mean you were drowning? You had been underwater, right? Had Aemond saved you after killing your brother and nearly killing you?

Your accusing red eyes – either from crying or anger – met with Aemond’s, as you stumbled upright. Your entire body shook. Was it the freezing cold? Anger? Grief?

Aemond stood before you calmly with his hands grasped together behind his back. He disregarded you with what almost seemed like quiet amusement.

- YOU KILLED HIM! – it came out like a sob, even though you didn’t think you were crying. – YOU KILLED LUKE!

You pushed him back with all the strength that you had but it didn’t even move him. The negotiating with lord Borros, flying back and forth, fight in the sky and near-drowning had taken the last of your physical and mental energy.

One of Aemond’s hands encircled both of your wrists and refused to let you step back, even as you tried to walk away from him.

His eye patch was gone and with his long, blond, wet hair wild and your gift sapphire in in his eye the sight was almost ethereal.

Your eyes desperately seeked for Phoenix who might be your last chance of self-defense.

- She’s alive, - Aemond guessed. – But a bit restricted at the moment. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you back in King’s Landing...

You shook your head, as water from your hair slowly dripped onto your clothes.

- I’m not going back! – you almost screamed. – I’m going back to my mother!

Aemond shook his head too. In pity. As if he was dealing with an annoying child who should know better.

Pair of wings swept over your heads, high up in the sky.

- Rȳ mōrī, iksi hēnkirī*, - his lips pressed against your forehead. - Isse se mōris, iksā ñuhon...**

You considered digging your feet into the sand and refusing to go but that would just probably result in Aemond carrying you.

He unbelievably gently put the other hand on your cheek, turning your head towards Vhagar who had just landed.

- Come, my beautiful bastard princess, - he whispered. – I need to announce your mother of her son’s death, and you need to let your fiancé know you are withdrawing your betrothal...

* At last, we are together (High Valyrian)

** Finally, you are mine (High Valyrian)

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen #hotd #imagine #house of the dragon imagine #jacaerys velaryon #lucerys velaryon #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen #ewan mitchell

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sunshinem0ths · 4 months

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in the middle of my first mcd rewatch since i was 13, and though ive not yet finished season one i HAVE been looking at some fan content on here and ao3 and i cannot stop thinking about garroth and his relationship to irene, and subsequently how that would realistically affect his relationship with aphmau.

garroth, raised his whole life under the oppressive hand of a father who twisted irene's image so much that it became one of rigid, calculated monarchy. one kingdom, one will, guided by the light of the matron herself. garroth, whose brother, the high priest, uses a mask of faith and holiness to hide his true, sinister intentions. gleefully scorning her name under his breath, almost proud of how openly he bastardizes irene's image and somehow always gets away with it.

garroth, faking his death to escape a future where he willingly perpetuates this terrible cycle of oppression and lies all in the service of the ro'meave name; in the service of self. garroth, escaping to live in the service of others, to protect and honour the institutions the real irene fought to create. even still, his feelings towards his faith are muddied and his severance from the church leaves a gap in his life where there once was a steady hand, however cold and iron its grip. when zenix, his apprentice and first true friend he's ever had, betrays him, a cruel voice in his mind tells him that it is punishment for straying.

coming to serve aphmau as she ascends to the role of lord of phoenix drop is reassurance. it is the fulfilment of everything he's aspired to do. the reincarnation of lady irene, now living flesh and blood before him instead of ink on paper or towering quartz statues. she doesn't know it yet, but he does. he knows it in the way his body naturally wants to gravitate around her like the earth around the sun. he can feel his life's purpose reborn within her, he feels its ambient warmth when he stands by her side. through her lordship, he is vindicated. this is irene's will, not the tyrannical lie his father has fed him, his brothers, and all of o'khasis for decades. if one could call zenix his punishment for straying from his faith, aphmau is his chance for redemption.

it's also terrifying. it's all-consuming. her light is so bright it blinds him and he can't make out whether what he feels is truly love or the natural awe and devotion any good servant of the matron would feel towards their lady. one part of him extols aphmau, rejoices that all of his prayers for a saviour have been answered. she is not only holy but kind, and optimistic, and generous. she's touchable, though he would never dare admit out loud to even thinking about that. another part of him fears her, despairs at the notion that this is proof that he never could truly escape his duty. his very life is bound to irene, whatever her will is. no matter how much he struggles against it, he is fated to always defer to a power much higher and much older than him. free will was never an option, and never will be.

so garroth doubles down. he bows his head and kneels before aphmau, believes unflinchingly in her cause, stomps down and denies any doubt or cowardice he feels, even when it begins to seep into his actions and his words, as per his undeniable weakness. he will throw himself in harm's way for her, he won't allow the only hope for ru'ann to come to harm. he'll provide for her, he'll follow her anywhere, he'll protect her and her son and he'll never ask for anything in return. he'll content himself with admiring from afar and leaving small, subtle tokens of his affections, like an acolyte presenting offerings at a shrine. or, more fittingly, a loyal dog leaving detritus and small, dead things on its owner's stoop. he reigns his emotions with a swiftness that only comes from years of straightening his back and biting his tongue out of self-preservation, because he knows that she is not his to have.

but he, of course, has always, always been hers.

#oh this became a lot longer than i expected #like. a LOT.#ummmm anyways i think garroth should have way more religious trauma #GIVE THIS BOY MINECRAFT CATHOLIC GUILT SO HELP ME #once again sorry for mcdposting i dont like it either i wish i was hyperfixated on anything else rn #aphmau #aphverse #mcd #minecraft diaries #garroth ro'meave #irene the matron #religion #religious trauma #long post

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rosie-b · 3 months

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Centuries Overdue

Chapter 4

Excerpt from the ninth journal of Adrien Agreste, written at the Agreste mansion in Paris, France, on the twenty-fourth of June, 1810.

I think this House is full of Ghosts. Around every corner I hear Laughter; through the Walls there comes a Sob; beneath my Bed the Darkness hides, ready to pull me out and slaughter me for its Revenge…

Did I write before that we never found the Mage responsible for the Darkness, even after we defeated it? There was no Body, no Spellbook, not one single Sign of who it was who betrayed us.

At the end of the Battle there was a great Cry, a loud Wailing which still haunts my dreams. Then the Darkness gathered into itself and exploded in a great display of power and Cowardice which left us no doubt that the Mage behind it was Dead.

I have told myself that I ought to be relieved, as the other Mages are, that at last the Darkness is vanquished. For a time, I fooled myself into thinking that I was!

But as all lies ever must do, this one I told Myself crumbled, leaving more Pain in its wake than it had initially hidden.

I cannot help but feel that I have failed. There was no moment when I saw the Face of my parents’ murderer, no time when I felt Closure for bringing safety to the rest of our Community.

The Mages are safe. The Talents are not; they have died, they have died in great numbers and no-one will answer for their deaths. Death chosen by one who finally sees that their loss is imminent brings no peace to the ones they have hurt. The Mage of Darkness was a Coward who faced no punishment despite committing very many crimes. Am I wrong to feel like that Mage won, and not the group who vanquished the Darkness?

I find myself flinching at every Shadow, and there are many in my parents’ house. It has been empty of their Presence for decades, but it searches for them, it waits on them to return. And it finds Me in their place, instead. I can only imagine it to be Angry.

I never lived in this House, but I came here and claimed it as mine with an old Deed given to me by M. Bourgeois, who kept the House from falling apart while my Parents and I were gone. I look like my Mother, and a little like my Father, and yet I am nothing like them. They will never live here again, but I, a reminder of their Existence, do presently. Were I this abandoned House, I would be angered, too, by the situation. A new Darkness lives in this place. I can feel it, and I cannot blame it for existing.

But I still find myself sensing Darkness elsewhere. Along my journey to my foreign home country, I felt It ever at my back, always reaching out for my shoulder as if to tap it, yet It vanished the moment I turned around. It is in the streets of Paris, on the rooftops, in the warm restaurants, in my Home.

There is something afoot in Paris, something sinister stirring yet again. I begin to believe that the Defeat we handed the Darkness in Blå Jungfrun was not as decisive as we had hoped, that the Darkness I feel now is the same as the One we had thought destroyed.

And yet…

I know that we defeated the Darkness. I saw it with my own eyes. This Feeling of mine is nothing more than Mischief and a passing fancy.

I will not write any more on the matter.

__*__*__*__*__

“Repeat after me,” Alya said, and Marinette immediately nodded.

It had been one week since she somewhat-accidentally infiltrated the Mage meeting, and now she was at another one, this time as an invited guest. And possibly, a new Mage, if this test proved that she had magic powers, that was.

“It’s just one spell. One tiny illusion, and we’re not going to throw you out if it doesn’t work.”

Marinette nodded again, blinking rapidly as her anxiety whispered a dozen ways this could go wrong in her ear.

“You don’t need to worry at all.”

Another nod, this one barely visible.

“What I’m trying to say is, relax , Marinette! The worst thing that could happen is you accidentally making a fake flower a few sizes too big! Illusions never hurt anyone, remember?”

From her perch on top of the new sofa the cafè had gotten, Alix leaned forward and grinned.

“Well, technically. They can be pretty deadly in battle. But only indirectly!” she backpedaled at Alya’s glare.

Marinette leaned her head back and groaned, “Ohh, Alya, do you really think I should do this?”

Alya folded the spellbook under her arm and reached out with the other to pat Marinette’s shoulder. “Of course, girl! There are literally no bad outcomes, and can you imagine how cool it would be if you turned out to be a Mage of Trixx, too? I’ve been hoping for this ever since I met you, even though I thought it was unrealistic at the time! Come on, Marinette. I’m not letting you leave this cafè until you at least try!”

Marinette smiled at Alya’s firm brand of encouragement. “Okay, okay! I’ll do my best,” she said, stretching out her fingers and wiggling them like she was warming up to draw a design for class. “I’m ready.”

Smiling approvingly, Alya opened the spellbook to the dog-eared page. “All right. First say, ‘mirage,’ and then picture a flower.”

“That’s it?” Marinette asked, astounded. None of Adrien’s spells looked this simple! And none of them were in French! “Let me see that.”

Standing on her tippy-toes, Marinette strained to look at the spellbook and scoured the page for the gibberish language from Adrien’s journals. There it was! But Alya wanted her to speak the spell in French anyway! How did that make sense?

“Trust me, Marinette,” Alya said, amused. “Just because a spell is recorded in a way that keeps it safe from enemy eyes doesn’t mean it has to be spoken in the same way. This code is protected by magic, but it represents all the same letters the normal French alphabet does. Spells can be spoken in any language, as long as they’re properly translated. Look, this one is in French; this symbol is ‘m,’ this one is ‘i,’ and if you put them all together, they make the word ‘mirage.’ Do you get it?”

Sinking back onto her feet, Marinette nodded, feeling a bit stupid. “Oh. So, it’s like there’s an eternal illusion spell cast on the letters?”

“Close! It was cast on the concept of the code itself, so that anything written in it can only be decoded by someone who was willingly taught the code by a Mage or, in the past, a Talent. I’m going to teach you how to decode it, too, and then you can read as many spells as you want.”

“Even the ones in Adrien’s journals?”

Alya nodded. “Even those ones. Although from what you’ve told me, deciphering his French will be your main problem!”

Marinette laughed. “It isn’t that bad once you get used to it!” she insisted, playfully defending Adrien’s abnormal writing habits.

“Whatever you say, girl. Okay, for real this time, say mirage!”

“Mirage!”

“Great! Now close your eyes and picture the flower. Doesn’t matter what type, just add as much detail as you can. When you’re done, say, ‘I call on Trixx’s power to create this flower’ and then you’re done.”

Marinette giggled as she followed Alya’s instructions, and her friend immediately protested.

“Wha— hey, don’t laugh! My spells don’t usually rhyme!”

Marinette nodded, keeping her eyes closed, and let out a deep breath as she prepared to try the spell.

“I call on Trixx’s power to create this flower,” Marinette said after a moment’s pause, and her heart thumped loudly in her chest.

Then she cracked open her eyes and looked for the flower.

“Nothing’s there,” she said, looking up at Alya dejectedly.

“You’re right,” Alya said, looking at the space between them where the flower should have been. “You could try again or just give up if you think you did it right. Being a Mage is pretty rare these days. And there are other spells to try, to test whether you’re a Mage of a different kwami than mine!”

“I tried as hard as I could,” Marinette said, rubbing her arm. “I don’t think I messed up, except for when I almost laughed. I just don’t think I’m a Mage, Alya.”

“Not Trixx’s, anyway,” Alix said as she hopped off the couch and landed on the floor with a thud, which scared Marinette. “But,” she said as she appeared behind Alya’s shoulder, reached around her, and flipped to a different page in the book, “You might still be Fluff’s. Repeat after me.”

Alya handed the spellbook to Alix and moved out of the way as she gave Marinette an encouraging smile.

“I promise to keep this short. Come on, just one more spell and we’re done! We only have Trixx’s and Fluff’s spells, so we can only test to see if you’re one of theirs. If not, who cares.” Alix raised one shoulder and dropped it back down.

Marinette sighed. “Okay, fine. What’s the spell?”

“Say burrow, then say the place and time you’d like to go to. So like, this same spot, five seconds from now.”

“Burrow, right here, five seconds from now?”

“Aaand you’re not one of Fluff’s Mages. Congrats!”

“That’s not— how do you know I didn’t mess up? I didn’t even say the same words as you did!”

“It doesn’t matter for that spell. Makes it pretty dangerous if you say something like outer space for your location, or if you go back before the Earth formed, but it’s the most basic spell we have.”

Marinette was briefly seized with an image of her accidentally falling into a black hole or falling into a star because she said the wrong thing by accident.

“Alya! Did you know that spell was so risky?”

“Well, no and yes. I’m not overly familiar with Alix’s spells, but all of Fluff’s magic is more immediately dangerous than Trixx’s. That’s why Fluff’s Mages get so much credit for helping defeat the Darkness with that Adrien of yours. Without their help, the battle could easily have gone in a very different direction.”

“It’s also theorized that one of us killed the Mage behind the Darkness,” Alix supplied. “And that whoever they were, the evil Mage is spiraling across the universe like a dead fish thanks to us. Maybe one day we’ll find their body,” she said, grinning evilly.

Marinette swallowed. “That’ll be fun.”

“Oh yeah, I’m so looking forward to it.”

“Uh-huh. Well, thanks for your help, Alix!” Alya took the book back from her and snapped it shut. “How are you feeling, girl? Worn out from the tests?”

Cocking her head, Marinette responded, “Not really. I’m kind of disappointed, but mostly relieved. Being anyone’s Mage doesn’t sound like the right fate for me. I’m just a normal girl with a normal life!”

Alya hummed. “Maybe you are. But you could still turn out to be a Mage, or even the first Talent in over a century! I’ll give up on tests,” she said at Marinette’s weary look, “But maybe you’d like to learn the Mages’ code, instead? Then you could really read all of Adrien’s journals.”

“My one true desire,” Marinette joked. “That does sound nice, actually! He records so many different spells, and it’s driving me nuts that I can’t read them. Like, there’s a spell for making ingredients hop into a pan and cook themselves! I need to know what it says, even if I can’t actually make the magic work.”

“Sounds like a universal spell to me,” Alya said thoughtfully. “No one’s tried one of those in forever! If it still works, any one of us Mages should be able to use it, even you, if you’re at all Gifted!”

“That would be pretty nice,” Marinette said as Alya led her over to a table and pulled out a chair.

“On to the lesson! Or, I guess it isn’t much of a lesson, exactly. I’m going to write down each of the code’s symbols next to their translation on a piece of paper for you. Once you have it, you can decode any spell you want with minimal work. And soon, you might even have the code memorized and not need the key anymore!”

“Thanks! That’s really cool, Alya,” Marinette said, watching as she quickly muttered a spell under her breath and pulled a paper from thin air.

Once the paper appeared, Alya grabbed it, making it glow golden orange, said another spell, and then set it down on the table once it stopped glowing.

“There. Once you have the key memorized, the paper will cease to exist. And if anyone but you sees it, it will look like a menu for the cafè. Sound good?”

Marinette nodded and Alya smiled.

“Great. Now, can I borrow a pen?”

“What, you can’t just summon one?” Marinette teased.

“I could, but that would be another complicated spell, and I just did three of those. You can’t normally touch illusions like this, or they fall apart. That’s part of why I wasn’t worried about the flower spell, because it just casts a basic illusion, nothing more. Anyway, the more complex a spell, the more tiring it is for the Mage casting it.”

“You mean, if you cast too many spells at once, you die?”

This was not good! Being a Mage sounded more dangerous with each new fact Marinette learned about them!

“No, there’s a safety built into the concept of spells. If you try too many at once, you might faint or go into a coma, but if it's a combination that would kill you, then you just can’t finish the spell. It becomes physically impossible.”

“Oh, that’s smart! Which Mage figured it out?”

“No one knows. In any event, while you don’t have to worry about me dying, I don’t feel like sleeping for twenty hours just to make up for summoning a pen.”

“That makes sense. Here,” Marinette fished around in her purse and pulled out a pink gel pen. “Will this work?”

“Perfectly. Thanks!”

Alya wrote out the code on the left side of the paper and then the translation on the right side.

“A last note: the symbols for numbers overlap with a few of the letter symbols. To show the difference, use the guide at the bottom. And that’s all there is to it!”

“Thank you so much!”

As she took the paper from Alya, Marinette hesitated.

“Hey, did I ever ask you what happened to Adrien? I mean, he’s dead, obviously, but when did he die? Did he ever write any other journals, aside from the lost ones? Was he happy?”

“Oh,” Alya said. “That’s… hard to answer, actually. We know more about how Adrien’s parents died than we know about how he died. It was in the catacombs, here in Paris. He told one of the Bourgeoises that he was going to visit them, illegally, I might add, and that was the last we ever heard about him. According to the Bourgeois family back when they still acknowledged our existence — although I’ve been promised a response to my email soon, at least — Adrien went a little crazy before his death.”

Marinette took a sharp breath. Adrien, crazy? Sure, she’d considered it, herself, back when she hadn’t known that magic was real, but now that she knew she could trust the stories he wrote in his journals, she didn’t think he was crazy. She thought he was very smart, in control of his thoughts and able to tell when his emotions were threatening to take over. His writing had become something of a constant in her life. What did the magic community think happened to him, that Adrien could be thought ‘crazy’?

Alya continued the story. “He thought the Darkness was coming back; that someone was killing off all the Talents; and towards the very end, he told his closest friends that the Mage of Darkness was hunting him down to get revenge. Revenge, of course, for that time when we ganged up and defeated that same Mage. We killed them, so like, what Adrien thought was happening was just impossible. It’s sad; he cared so much about keeping the Gifted community safe, and he contributed so much to our survival; but in the end, what he’d gone through for our lives cost him his own. He was a hero. But sometimes, being a hero means you don’t get a happy ending.

“I’m sorry, Marinette,” Alya said, covering her trembling hand with a warm, firm one. “I know you got attached because of those books. But it’s in the past. Adrien Agreste got lost in the catacombs at age twenty and died before he could find the way out. That’s all we know.”

Marinette was suddenly finding it really hard to see. At some point during Alya’s tale, she’d begun to silently cry for the Mage she’d begun to feel like she knew. He’d done so much for her, and she’d never get to thank him!

She licked her lips, tasting the salt there, and took a deep, rasping breath.

“Did you ever find his body? Is there a grave I could go visit?”

Alya shook her head and held Marinette’s hand tightly, offering the only comfort she could. “Nobody’s ever found his body. Plenty of Mages have tried, but they’ve had to turn back. The catacombs are dangerous if you go off the known trail, and it wouldn’t do us any good to find one body just to leave another one there with it. So because of that, we really can’t teleport straight to the spot, we can’t go back in time to stop it, nothing. According to Fluff, ‘everything is the way it should be’. The way it has to be. But it’s always hard to lose one of our own. I wish things were different, ‘Nette, I really do.”

Marinette’s hand shook in Alya’s as she fought off her tears. How could she be crying for a centuries-dead man? She’d known he was dead before she even asked what had happened to him! Crying about it didn’t make any sense!

“It hurts more than it should,” she whispered. “He gave up everything to protect his people, led them to victory, finally won and got to go home. And he went through all of that, just to die as soon as he got back to Paris? That’s completely unfair!”

“I know it is,” Alya said softly. “We all do. He will always have a place of honor in our histories, and a statue at Plagg’s cave. He is and always will be remembered. That’s more than most can say.”

Marinette wiped her eyes and nodded. “I guess it is,” she forced herself to say. Far more people's names are forgotten than remembered, in the grand scheme of things. Even detailed journals, like the ones Adrien had written, were lost or destroyed more often than they lived on even one century after their writer, let alone two.

How fortunate, then, that she’d gotten to read his journals at all. Even the best Mages couldn’t say they had done that, but finding them had been a blessing for them all, and soon, the Agreste journals would be back where they belonged. Their stories would live on.

Written for @mlbigbang

#adrien gets better I swear #don't worry about him :))#this chapter is really just the calm before the storm #ao3 links at the top #ml fanfic #rosie-b writing #miraculous ladybug #ml au #centuries overdue

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bengiyo · 10 months

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Minato’s Laundromat 2 Ep 1 Stray Thoughts

I was not even hoping for this to get a sequel, but I am so excited that we are. We so often leave characters at their starting line. Minato unpacked a lot of his own internalized homophobia and cowardice in the last season, and I’m excited to see what the showrunners think the early phase of his relationship with Shin will look like. I’m not much of a fan of time skips, and so this is what I’ve not-so-secretly hoped for when I ask for more stories about gay people staying together.

I like that we’re opening this season with a reaffirmation that Minato actually likes running the laundromat.

There he is! My favorite menace!

I like the new intro.

Asuka!! My second favorite menace!

Okay, I’m legitimately excited for Asuka pursuing more learning for himself. There was a melancholy resignation about his life hanging over him before.

Shin is still crushing the hopes and dreams of potential female suitors.

I really love Japanese filmmaking styles around walking. Asuka jumps in step with Shin, revealing that the two are still friends (despite Shin’s apparent irritation with Asuka). When their issues come up, Shin immediately falls behind. They both stop, and this kicks them into an A-B shot conversation briefly. We’ve landed at the first worry that has broken their stride. It’s good! It communicates so much. Shin is worried about his three-month-old relationship with Minato, Asuka is being picked on to study by everyone and teased about his crush on Shun. These two are still the gay friends who’ve been together forever but are always seemingly picking on each other. It’s great.

I’m enjoying this divide in the way these two are handling being together. Shin has known of his attraction for a long time, and wants Minato to be direct and open about his feelings. Minato is still shy about them, and gets embarrassed.

“Have I been a good boy for the last three months?” There’s my favorite menace!

I’m relieved we’re getting Minato’s internal monologue. Shin is going to speak his feelings aloud because he has no shame about them, but we the audience need to hear Minato’s worries. He’s too anxious a character for us to just read them from his face.

Curious where Minato’s specific hang up on saying “I like you” to Shin comes from.

See, this is what I’m talking about with good use of side couples. We cut away from the mains to Asuka telling Shun he likes him and Shun telling him to focus on his studies. Shun is incapable of returning the romantic feelings Asuka is projecting at him, but he’s been clear about that the whole time. Still, he agrees that Asuka’s presence is a positive one in his life. I’m LOCKED IN.

This beach always looks so uncomfortable.

I have missed Minato’s shirts, but not how hungry they make me.

I love that Asuka goes to Minato to complain about Shun. Minato is also the one not meeting his partner’s vocalized needs, so it puts him in the awkward position of defending Shun. Also amused at Minato dodging the question about whether he and Shin have been intimate, because we know for sure they have.

I hope Shin isn’t playing games with Minato about being busy…but also low-key I hope he’s using this as an opportunity to mess with Minato. I’m sorry. I’m a little shallow. I like when characters misuse malicious compliance to give their romantic partners what they say they want.

“Who’s the real kid here? It seems like it’s me.” Love when we read a character correctly.

You know Minato is approaching 30 because he’s excited about a new broom.

Shin working at the same cram school as Shun gives so much potential for other character dynamics.

Just one of these times I want to see Shin throw hands with Asuka.

Shin remains my favorite. Minato is playing avoidance games again and Shin is not having it.

I’m curious if the reason Shin can’t go home tonight is about the ruined refrigerator and he’s just being dramatic.

I’m not sure how living together works when Minato still has all these hang ups.

I like the new version of the beach outro.

Nishigaki Sho and Kusakawa Takuya are just ridiculously attractive. My goodness.

I’m genuinely excited about what domesticity looks like for these two.

I missed these boys so much! I don’t care if we don’t have a manga to rely upon. I am so excited to get a season about these two starting their relationship. This feels like a warmup for TV Tokyo before we get more of What Did You Eat Yesterday? in the fall. I am just so satisfied with my BL experience lately.

#minato shouji coin laundry 2 #minato shouji coin laundry #minato’s laundromat #minato's laundromat 2 #japanese bl #bl series #Ben watches

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kitkatscabinet · 2 years

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okay okay this is my last one i’m sorry 😅 but to change things up a lil could you maybe do a dylan x reader from the quarry. maybe just his terrible cringey flirting but with reader? you can pick the ending 😅 you’re the best 💕💕

This one got away from me lol

Pairing: Dylan x gn! reader

Genre: angst and fluff

Word count: 1237

As much as he hated to admit it Dylan was starting to get disheartened, he’d been flirting with you for the past two months to practically no avail. Sure, you laughed at his cheesy pick-up lines and terrible flirting skills but outside of that you’d made no indication that you returned any of his feelings. He could admit throwing line after line at you from the get-go was probably not the best tactic. The first time you’d met he’d hit you with the “Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again” and had been delighted to hear you burst into laughter. It had spiralled from there as he tried out various new lines one after the other and at this point, he was starting to run out. Initially, you had just been a gorgeous face, but as you spent more time together, he found himself genuinely falling for you. Two months in your presence had him falling hard and fast but unfortunately no one seemed to be able to get a read on your feelings.

The truth was you liked Dylan, his goofy nature and smile worming his way into your heart over the course of the camp. The problem was you’d been burned before, it was always the jokers that either weren’t serious or seemed to be incapable of keeping their pants on in the presence of people not you. However, a small part of you knew that was no longer the truth and it was only your cowardice stopping what could possibly be.

Walking to the door of the lodge, luggage in hand you were way laid by an enthusiastic Dylan armed with a line like always “Hey, I was wondering if you could tell me, if you’re here then who’s running heaven?” Unable to stop the slight snort that burst from your lips, the man smiled in success before he noticed your bags and offered to take them for you

“Ah, that’s ok Dylan. I got it” smiling tightly and squeezing past, unaware of his falling shoulders in your haste to get away. Even if you gave in now it wouldn’t amount to anything you reasoned to yourself, heart clenching as you imagined his kicked puppy expression.

Hours later you found yourself in an emotional crisis as Jacob dared you to kiss either Dylan or Abi. Either way Dylan was going to get hurt, if you kissed him, it would get his hopes up and kissing Abi would just be cruel to more than just Dylan. The longer you took, the more Dylan’s expression fell as he tried to wave you off as if he wasn’t affected. Something in his expression ultimately caused you to stand and make your way over to stand between his knees, leaning in you planted one on him. Flipping off your fellow counsellors, the pair of you kissed for an undetermined amount of time before you suddenly broke away and rushed back over to your seat. Unaware of a giddy Dylan bringing his hand up to touch his lips, as he processed what had just happened. Following this everything went to shit as Kaitlyn and Emma stirred the pot too far and the group split up.

Now you found yourself sitting in the lodge in shock, covered in a mix of Abi’s and Nick’s blood. Your panic had faded into some false serene sense of calm, white noise ringing in your ears as you tried to make sense of what the fuck had happened. A creaking floorboard behind you caused you to turn and sigh as you noticed Dylan’s presence, watching somewhat apathetically as he placed himself down next to you.

“So, aside from taking my breath away, what do you do for a living?” he said, wiggling his eyebrows with a smile. Said smile fading at your distinct lack of positive reaction and he braced himself for whatever words he knew he didn’t want to hear that were about to come from your mouth

“Dylan” you sighed out “You gotta stop. That kiss was… It was a mistake alright.” You kept your watery eyes forward unwilling to see his expression.

“Oh, no no, yeah cool. I understand, I mean why would someone as great as you ever settle for a nerd like me” he said, standing up and quickly moving to leave, desperately trying to hold back tears and cursing himself for being so stupid.

“What, no Dylan” you had scrambled to stand up following him now “Dylan, please that’s not what I meant.” But your half-hearted apologies fell on deaf ears and you watched din misery as he escorted Ryan to the radio shack, hoping to broadcast a message to the authorities.

Things further went to shit at the revelation that some dude with a shotgun was walking around the lodge, causing the group to retreat and go to meet up with Dylan and Ryan. Only they were immediately ushered into one of the cabins at Ryan’s panicked voice. A tense number of minutes passed before a shrill ringing filled the area and you cautiously made your way outside, eyes immediately scanning for Dylan. Your relief however, was cut short upon noticing his bloody hand, or rather where his hand should be. “Oh my God Dylan, what the fuck happened” your voice was shrill with worry as you grabbed his arm to inspect it. And Dylan hated that your obvious worry caused his insides to squirm in glee, despite you earlier words. Making your way back to the lodge he could feel the heat emanating from your body as you pulled him forward, providing stability for his woozy brain.

At this point you were desperately holding back tears, you’d found a dead girl in the pool, there were people walking around with shotguns, Nick was acting weird and Ryan had sawed off Dylan’s hand with a fucking chainsaw. It was all getting to be too much for you at this point and you had stepped over to the window desperate for some air. The sound of a gunshot had you turning around startled, only to receive a shove to the side that sent you careening back, head harshly ricocheting off the floor.

Dylan had moved immediately, dropping to your side and placing your head in his lap and tried to help as best he could. Frantically calling your name in an attempt to wake you, he lightly tapped your face with his hand urging you to respond. “Hey, hey, hey don’t do this to me. Who else am I supposed to call a cute-cumber” he choked out that last word, screaming at Kaitlyn to help. Not only was your head bleeding from the impact but apparently Nick had claws now and they had torn into the sides of your chest in his escape.

Blearily opening your eyes, you attempted to blink out the various black dots and focused all your energy into forcing your ears to cooperate. You were finally able to make out Dylan’s face above you as you cleared your throat

“Hey Dylan” you lightly wheezed out “Is your name google? Because you have everything I’m searching for.” The effect was slightly ruined by your slurring voice and dazed expression but Dylan thought it was perfect anyway and he leaned his forehead down to rest against yours, laughing as the tears in his eyes turned from worry to happiness.

#dylan lenivy x reader #dylan lenivy x you #the quarry dylan #the quarry imagines #the quarry oneshots #the quarry

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feyhunter78 · 11 months

Note

Hello bestie, Elrond request delivery service!!

Female reader x Elrond.

Reader has been kidnapped by another king who wants her for his wife but she’s already married to Elrond so our beautiful little elf comes to her rescue and they get all fluffy with each other after he finds her and takes her back to Rivendell so he can treat her for her wounds she has received ❤️🥰

Bestie!!! So I mixed your request with one I got for protective Elrond Hcs! I thought they kinda ran along the same vein! I hope you like it!!!!

Protective Prince

Elrond as we know him in TROP is not a fighter, of course in the later series we know he can fight, but he is still heart of hearts a diplomat. That being said, our boy can throw down if need be. Y’all remember that show of strength in the mines???? Crushing rocks with that hammer, not even breaking a sweat?? OOF that did something to me fr fr, anywayss let’s get to the headcannons:

Elrond is very protective of those he loves, but he goes about it in a more subtle way, usually.

He is quick to defend you verbally *see sfw alphabet* and never loses an argument. If anyone speaks badly about you, he can and will ruin their life. After he tries the civil route first, of course.

I see Elrond as someone who:

Makes sure doors don’t hit your shoulder when you’re rushing to get through them,

Always gets off his horse first in order to help you off yours,

Always drinks a little less than you to make sure you get home safely,

Put himself between you and any assumed threats,

Encourages you to learn to defend yourself,

Keeps track of people who talk badly about you and ensure you don’t run into them,

And like a million other little things! If we get battle scenes in the next season then I’ll definitely do an updated one of these with that knowledge in mind, but I feel like all in all, Elrond’s way of being protective is being proactive.

Now to a little blurb about sweet Elrond:

Truly you believed these types of things only happened in children’s tales, a beautiful maiden kidnapped by a loathsome king who desires her as a bride, and yet there you were. Tied up in a dungeon while a man you had meet briefly monologued on and on about how you were destined to be together, you just did not yet understand that.

“I am married, I cannot, and will not, marry another.” You told your captor once more, bracing yourself when his bejeweled hand drew back, the skin of your cheek already torn open and bloodied from his strikes.

He did not wish to hear that your heart belonged to another, but you would not cease. You had spent a century with Elrond, not a mere moment that could be so easily forgotten.

A surprised grunt and the heavy thud of flesh hitting stone bid you to open your eyes, and before you stood Galadriel, sword in hand, and Elrond who rushed to untie you.

“Y/N are you well, did he harm you?” He asked, gently caressing the irritated skin of your wrists.

“She is bleeding, clearly, he has injured her. Cowardice thrives in men like him.” Galadriel seethed, cleaning her blade with the cloak of your deceased captor. “Those who would harm the helpless, who would steal a woman from her home.”

You stood on shaky legs, leaning on your husband for support. He handed you lembas urging you to eat it as he and Galadriel led you out into the sunlight.

Now you sat in your quarters, strength partly regained thanks to the provisions your husband had provided during your journey back. Elrond bustled around the room, pulling out your favorite nightdress and beginning to run a bath for you as the healers finished dressing your wounds. Once they left, Elrond kept moving about the room, the anxiousness rolling off him in waves.

You held your hand out to him, and he took it, pressing his lips to your palm reverently. “My starlight I was so worried, my heart would not still, my mind would not rest, day and night I agonized over your fate, forgive me for not coming sooner, the High-King—”

“Elrond.” You stopped him gently, his oakwood eyes settling on you, the skin underneath them wan and purple with fatigue. “All is well, there is nothing to forgive, you came for me and that is what matters.”

He pressed your hand to his cheek, taking your other hand and placing it over his heart. “I will always come for you, there is no force in this world that would keep me from you. No distance, or peril, no storm or foe, that could hinder me not when you, my starlight, my love, my life, are waiting for me.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and you smiled at him, your fear had vanished the moment you saw him in the dungeon. The sun at his back, his cloak already in hand, being wrapped around you. The way he whispered your name and held you with such gentleness. If the fairy tales were true, then your husband was a prince of legend, and you, his beloved princess. “I will always wait for you, you are my love, my husband, my protector, no god or king could hold my heart as you do.”

Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @elronds-pointy-ears, @elrondscalaquendi, @dilf-superiority, @jesticace

#meg's writing #elrond x reader #elrond peredhel #young elrond #elrond rop #rop elrond #trop fic #elrond x y/n #elrond x you #thanks for the request!#meg talks with the rop babes #elrond headcanons #young!elrond #young elrond fanfic

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sanfangirl-cynicalromantic · 2 months

Text

HiccstridWeek2024 Day 2: Oh Lord, I Think About Jumping Off Of Very Tall Somethings

Happy @httydhiccstridweek everyone! Today's prompt is "to fly or to fall"

Summary: “It’s just like flying,” he insisted.

“Not really,” she argued, mostly for the sake of arguing. “It’s just falling slower and slightly less dangerously.”

“Less dangerously,” Hiccup repeated like that was somehow going to gain a point in his favor.

“You could avoid that danger altogether by not jumping off your dragon, but no!” She was starting to lose her patience.

Astrid's opinion of Hiccup's flightsuit changes over the years.

Read on AO3

“No,” Astrid seethed. Her arms were crossed and she glared disapprovingly at her friend.

“C’mon,” he wheedled, his voice almost a whine. “You can see I’ve improved already! Just a few more adjustments and -”

“You’re grounded,” Astrid snapped. “And I will take that thing away from you if I have to.” Hiccup grumbled but Toothless, who was done with catching the young man, smacked the back of the human’s head with his tail.

“Ow! Okay, fine, you traitor reptile,” Hiccup relented. “But I’m keeping the Dragonfly II.”

“Hiccup, no,” Astrid pleaded with the boy as he stood on top of another cliff, the wind blowing strongly around them and almost whipping his skinny frame from side to side. She wasn’t doing that much better, but at least she was holding on to Toothless.

“You’ve already seen this work,” Hiccup argued. “This thing literally saved me from being paralyzed by a Speed Stinger! How- how could you still not approve?”

“Because I don’t like you recklessly throwing yourself off of tall places just for fun!” Astrid cried. What if he got seriously hurt? “You could -” she broke off. He could die. And she would live with her cowardice of not confessing her feelings for the rest of her life. “It’s dangerous,” she finished lamely. Hiccup’s smile softened.

“It’s just like flying,” he insisted.

“Not really,” she argued, mostly for the sake of arguing. “It’s just falling slower and slightly less dangerously.”

“Less dangerously,” Hiccup repeated like that was somehow going to gain a point in his favor.

“You could avoid that danger altogether by not jumping off your dragon, but no!” She was starting to lose her patience.

“It’ll be fine; I promise,” he assured her. Astrid rolled her eyes affectionately.

“That’s not-”

“Watch!”

“Wha- No!”

He flung himself off of the cliff and Astrid cursed and climbed onto Toothless’s back.

“Huh, nice place,” Astrid greeted him, looking around the small island. Hiccup turned to her, smiling, as she pushed her hood back out of her eyes. He knew she disliked the way her hood sometimes blocked out her peripheral vision; she was always uncomfortable when her vision was impeded.

“We’ve named it ‘Crash Landing,’” he told her dryly. She smirked and sauntered over to him, hands automatically brushing over his shoulders, searching for telltale signs of injury, noting the newest scratches and brushing off some dirt.

“How?” she asked quietly, her eyes concerned but with a hint of mirth. Hiccup sighed, submitting to her teasing before she’d even started.

“Toothless was solo flying and I didn’t give him enough warning for that rocky ledge up there,” he pointed. “So . . .” he trailed off and shrugged his shoulders in that exaggerated, overly-dramatic way of his. Astrid chuckled as she followed his line of sight, then frowned as her gaze snapped back to him. She reached out to feel one of his leather flaps and Hiccup winced even before her eyes met his.

“It wasn’t that bad this time, okay. Besides, you don’t mind it anymore-”

“I know there’s no point in getting you to stop,” Astrid corrected. “I don’t like it, though.”

“It’s really great. I mean, remember how much you loved the first time I showed you flight? This is even better.”

“Hmm,” she hummed. “Less potential for sneaking in a cuddle.”

“Oh, that's what you want, huh?" Hiccup grinned. "C'mere," he wrapped her up between her arms, the way she liked when it was just the two of them and she took a secret delight in his ability to engulf her while she let down her emotional armor.

Astrid shifted a little bit to get more comfortable and lay her head on his shoulder to look up at his face. "Don't think being all mushy with me is going to get you out of trouble, mister."

“Admit you like it.”

She rolled her eyes.

It had been a couple days since he had been crowned chief, and Hiccup was just itching for an hours-long flight with Toothless. He felt the overwhelming responsibilities of the chiefdom weighing and suffocating him, until all he wanted to do was throw away the fur mantle Gobber had given him - Stoick had ordered it a few weeks ago in preparation for “The Big Talk” - and take to the skies, never to return. Not that he would do that, of course. He wouldn't dare. But it was a tempting thought.

“Hiccup!” a voice called and he felt a grin involuntarily spring to his lips at the sound of her cheery voice. His betrothed walked through the open door of his hut, eyes brightening as she saw him.

“You’re in your flying suit,” she noticed.

“I, uh, yeah. I just-” Astrid sighed.

“I’ll handle things while you take a break,” she offered him a smile. Hiccup brightened.

“Really?”

“As much as I disapprove of what you’re going to do in that walking death-trap-”

“Hey! It worked,” Hiccup shot triumphantly, wagging a finger. “It saved me my other leg. And more.” At least he hadn’t lost any more limbs along with his father. Astrid wrapped her arms loosely around his waist and nuzzled into his chest.

“I guess so,” she conceded.

“I’ve practically mastered-”

“Now hold on,” she interrupted, raising her head so she could fix him with a stern look. “Just because you managed it once does not mean you’ll get it every time.”

“Guess I better practice, then,” Hiccup replied cheekily. Astrid shook her head in mock weariness.

“I walked right into that one,” she admitted. The chief lit up with a new idea.

“Actually, we should all have flightsuits!” he exclaimed, his mind suddenly whirling with designs and calculations.

“What? Whoa, there, dragon boy,” she tried to soothe him. “I said ‘take a break,’ not ‘find another huge project to obsess over.’”

“I’m not hearing a no to adding a flightsuit as part of a rider’s gear.”

“Tell you what,” Astrid said, stroking his chest with light fingers. “You take Toothless out for a ride, come home, take a nap, and then we can discuss this.”

“You drive a hard bargain, milady,” Hiccup grinned. “I love you,” he added, pressing a hard kiss to her hair.

“Love you too,” she said softly.

“So?” he asked proudly after Stormfly had brought her up. “Pretty amazing, huh.”

“Totally different than riding a dragon," Astrid panted, holding a hand over her abdomen. She was in excellent shape, of course, but flying in a straight line downwards required more core strength than one expected. "It was thrilling, though."

“You like it!" Hiccup gloated. "Right?" Astrid detected a note of vulnerability in his voice that she hadn't heard in a while. His flightsuit was one of his favorite inventions, and Astrid had never taken to it the way he had, but -

Astrid's face softened. "I do," she nodded. “Not as much as you do, but I can see the use for it . . . and the fun. Not enough fun to convince me to jump off of our dragons as a date or anything," she warned. “But yeah, I like it. Just, maybe keep it a secret from the twins a little longer?"

“Oh, I will," Hiccup nodded urgently. "No need to give them these things any sooner than we need to."

“We should armor them, if possible," Astrid said. If they were going to use Hiccup's Dragonfly-the-whatever-number-it-was-by-now edition, she'd make it as safe and practical as she could. "If they're going to be fully fledged flightsuits for battle, we might as well incorporate protection."

“I like that idea," Hiccup agreed, buoyant at her approval.

She had lost track of how long they had stood there. The sun had already set, but she had not yet acquainted herself with the rise and fall of the sun with this new land: the elevation was different and they were further west . . . aaand she was starting to sound like Hiccup. She picked her head off of his shoulder to look at him, and the movement caught his eye. He gave her a sad smile, looking out over the cliff and back at her again. They were the last people still standing by the edge.

She shifted and wordlessly began to help him hop towards the village. There was no one around to call for help, and she knew Hiccup hadn’t gotten around to unpacking his other legs, so they made their way painfully to his tent.

As she set him down on a cot and rummaged through one of his chests, she felt the heaviness begin to crush her and knew she wouldn’t be able to muster up the energy to leave. She’d stay with the chief tonight. At this point, no one would mind.

“Here,” she said quietly, handing him a prosthetic. Hiccup accepted it and laid it beside the cot. Astrid kicked off her boots and began to slowly remove her armor, leaving her in her undershirt and leggings.

“Hey,” she crawled over to him and cupped his cheek. “Take this off for me?” her fingers trailed down to his shoulder where his armor had been ripped. Hiccup shook himself out of his lethargic stupor and began to numbly remove his armor. She reached her arms out to help him, careful of his broken makeshift wings, trying her best not to tear the leather further and avoid the sharp metal rods. “We’ll have to fix this,” she said conversationally, her mind already compiling a list of things to do tomorrow. “I believe Krone thought he saw some minerals somewhere off to the north and we could send some miners to check for ore so we can fix these-”

“No,” Hiccup interrupted, harsher than she expected. “I’m not fixing it.” Astrid frowned.

“What are you talking about?” she asked. “Why not?”

“I don’t want to,” he said sulkily.

“Oh don’t give me that, I can rarely get you out of this thing,” she retorted. Her voice softened. “What’s up, Hiccup?”

He glared at her but there was no real heat. “I just - It was stupid of me to be flying on my own when I - could have been flying with Toothless. Now-” he broke off and hung his head. Astrid’s face melted into pained sympathy.

“Hey," she said gently, crouching before him until he met her eye again. "There's no need to blame yourself for that. None of us saw this coming, and in the end, these saved our dragons," she motioned to his flightsuit and then hers, specks of blood marring the bright blue of her girl's scales.

“Maybe," Hiccup muttered. Astrid straightened as she accepted his defeat. "But I won't fix it anyway. You never liked it and it's not like we have dragons to catch me anymore." Astrid drew a sharp breath and Hiccup winced. Too soon.

“I - I mean - I'm sorry, that was -"

“You're not wrong," she cut in, adopting the unfunny humor. "I'll be glad to see the end of you jumping off of dragons to sacrifice yourself." There must have been an imperceptible wobble in her voice because Hiccup's face cleared and he shifted guiltily.

“You, uh, you saw that, huh?" he laughed nervously. "Great." Astrid's face crumpled and she buried it into his bare shoulder.

“It didn't - you almost didn't - I saw you-"

“I'm sorry," he repeated.

He had thought of her as he was falling to his death in his useless flightsuit. He had been ready to die - he was always far more ready to die than people realized, but as Grimmel tore blindly at his armor as he dragged Hiccup to die along with him, the chief had found himself mourning the loss of Astrid. He had never made her his wife. Not officially. And he knew they hadn't gotten married because Astrid didn't want to yet, but he also knew Astrid didn't want to because she was waiting on him. And he had never been worthy.

“This thing's going to kill you one day," she had snapped, pleading with him countless times. And he had never listened, secure in his and Toothless's infallibility, and now it had finally gotten him killed.

The Light Fury had been a godsend, and though part of him almost wished she hadn't caught him and forced him to make the decision to split with the dragons, he had vowed to himself to make this the last time he fell to his death.

He saw the sadness and fear in Astrid's face right now. She had always taken on protecting him personally in response to Hiccup's recklessness.

“I'm still here," he stroked the top of her head softly. He was still here and she could still protect him. "I won't do it again. Will you - will you forgive me?" Astrid nodded and then hesitated. She punched him swiftly.

“Don’t do it again,” she warned.

“I deserved that,” he wheezed. “Are you . . . okay?” he checked. Astrid sighed as she thought about her answer.

“I will be. I mean, it hasn’t sunk in yet. Right now I think I’m fine. I’ve been away from Stormfly before so I think it’ll take a while before I really, you know. . . It’s like Snoggletog, just, without them . . . coming back.” Hiccup’s face morphed from compassion to panic.

“Astrid, what if I made the wrong decision? What if everybody hates me? Did I just leave Berk vulnerable? This was stupid, I’m not-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Astrid interrupted, glad to refocus on Hiccup’s feelings instead of her own. “Hiccup, we just moved an entire island, have begun building a village, found the Hidden World, and won a war in a matter of days. What you need now is sleep.” She pressed her forehead against his. “You’ve done the best you can. Everyone agrees that they think this place is better than Berk anyway. Just rest.”

“I love you,” Hiccup said tiredly as he gathered her in his arms. They slowly lay down on the cot and Astrid fixed a blanket over them, tucking Hiccup securely in so his tossing and turning wouldn’t get too out of hand while she was asleep. She tucked her head under his chin and ignored the lone tear that fell on her hair. They fell asleep slowly, drifting off with the uncanny absence of their dragons’ breathing.

“You . . . you really want to do this?” Hiccup checked.

“I really do,” Astrid affirmed. She pulled a little self consciously at her armored skirt and checked the leather flaps along her arms. Her old flightsuit hadn’t seen any action for two years, but the chieftess wanted to feel the feeling of flying she had been missing so acutely.

She had come across Hiccup’s damaged flightsuit when she was sorting through the storage that had accumulated. She loved her husband, really, but she couldn’t believe how much clutter the chief had stuffed in a room and forgotten about. To think Gobber had just complimented him on his responsibility and organization!

She had run her finger along the torn seams, delicately tracing the night fury scales as memories of Hiccup’s wistful staring off into the horizon and her pleading with him not to use his stupid Dragonflies over the years. She remembered the pang she had felt when she finally accepted the flightsuit as a useful piece of equipment and saw how her approval had meant so much more to him than she’d thought.

Hiccup had reinstated the Regatta at New Berk and found ways to modify the boats and sails to make them faster. Eret still won every year, but Hiccup had come to appreciate the sea foam splashing in his face and the cool wind whipping his hair around. And Astrid certainly appreciated the new muscle growth her husband had gained alongside his sailing prowess. But despite his delight in standing at the bow of the boat, nothing could compare to the unique swooping sensation of flying. So Astrid had brought the suit to Gobber and they had secretly patched it up, for Gobber kept all of Hiccup’s notes dating from back when the Haddock had been twelve. The blacksmith was far more sentimental than most realized.

Hiccup had stuttered until his eyes filled with tears when she presented his old but improved flightsuit and declared she wanted to go cliff diving for their second marriage anniversary.

So here they were, on the cliff: the cliff they had jumped off all those years ago to fly to Grimmel and take on his whole damn fleet of ships. Her husband checked all of his flaps and straps yet again and secured his helmet, glancing at Astrid but knowing better than to try to check her equipment for her. She turned to smile at him, seeing past his fussiness to his underlying nervousness.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” she asked softly. Hiccup gave her a sheepish smile that softened into that stupid smile that made her blush every time. The smile that meant ‘you’re so perfect’ or ‘what did I do to deserve you’ or ‘you have no idea how much I love you.’ It was her favorite smile that she caught all the time during the most mundane things: in between council meetings, when she was helping him plan and distribute duties for the next day, or even when she kissed him when she got home in the evenings. She smiled her own special smile at him in return, her ‘of course I know you better than yourself and would do anything for you smile’ and offered her hand.

“C’mon,” she laughed and pulled him to the edge. Eventually they broke out into a run, hooting like they had done back when they were still seventeen. Her mother was standing off to the side, rolling her eyes fondly at the two rulers of New Berk acting like hooligans and Gobber had his spyglass out, tracking Eret’s boat that was on the water, ready to pick them up when they landed. Astrid began to pull ahead, only a few feet from where the land dropped off and-

They jumped.

And it was like flying.

#hiccstridweek2024 #day2 #toflyortofall #Hiccstrid #hiccup haddock #astrid hofferson #HTTYD #Hiccup’s flight suit #my writing

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soleilnomoon · 1 year

Note

would love to order a red velvet cupcake, an ice cream cake, some banana bread, handful of konpeitō, & some dark chocolate, with caramel on top. i'd love to share it with #1 (ace & female reader) from the side menu, pls & thank you!

hiii i am so sorry this took forever, i rewrote it so many times but i think i like how it came out in the end ૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა love a good shower sex fic, so i had fun and it's ace so you already know he was doing the absolute most for no reason at all 💗😊 i hope you have fun reading <3

2.5k words, fem reader, nsfw, 18+, mdni; tiny bit of angst bc i can't help myself but it's very tiny, and smut bc we're nasty bitches in this house; feat. cute stuff like ace being the absolute worst™, fingering, kissing, public exhibitionism, shower sex; ace can be a lil mean when he's frustrated and reader needs to stop being a coward, alas what can i say *washes hands of this*

residual embarrassment — a parting gift from the night before — prevents you from looking at him and properly sorting out your emotions. you spend more time than necessary hiding out in the bathroom, hoping the day keeps him busy enough to forget all that you said to him. when your skin can’t take the heat from the water any longer, when your mind keeps replaying certain things over and over, you grab your towel and step out of the shower. thankfully, the bathroom is empty, leaving you to mull over your bothersome thoughts and contemplate what to do next.

with ace, everything is always so complicated. he lives life out loud, has no trouble voicing his opinion — especially on matters that have nothing to do with him — and tends to sniff out your bullshit before you can lie and cover your tracks. and, really, it’s not that you don’t want him to know the truth, it’s just that the truth is deliberately debilitating, and you don’t have time to deal with that. cowardice isn’t easy to deal with; it slips into your bloodstream and commands all your movements without remorse. your body is a husk — a seemingly hard exterior and tragically soft, pliable interior.

one crack and everything spills out.

if you weren’t so intent on throwing a perpetual pity party for yourself, you’d hear his footsteps in the hallway. and, like clockwork, he comes through the door loudly — boisterous and energetic, an accompanying lopsided grin, the same splatter of freckles on his cheeks that you like counting from time to time. tiny stars, randomly strewn on his skin, varying shades of brown that bring comfort whenever he’s too close to you.

but it’s not comfort you feel now, it’s annoyance.

you fold your arms against your chest and stare at him incredulously. he’s being absolutely ridiculous. “what,” you say, swallowing hard and steeling your features, “are you doing here?” while the bathroom is a shared space with ample room, you know damn well he’s only here to antagonize you further. you eye him critically and wonder for the umpteenth time why he always walks around shirtless. you asked him once and his answer made you blush hard enough to make you speechless — he was entertained by your honest reaction, that he decidedly teased you for the rest of the week because of it.

“i was thinking about what you said,” his steps are every bit as imposing as he is — brutish but familiar, making you take several steps back without thinking about it. “and, what i can’t understand is wh—” your hand shoots out and you slap it over his mouth; startled, ace stumbles back a bit, but ultimately laughs as you try to quiet him down.

“don’t. you don’t have to say it.”

his brows quirk at that; another interesting response, another reason for ace to stick by your side for the remainder of the day. you know how this goes, but you refuse to entertain his foolishness until the door opens again. it happens fast and you don’t think it through, but you pull ace back into the shower with you and turn on the water quickly. several of your crew mates enter at once, laughing and joking with one another, talking of menial things. you hope they don’t stay long, but ace keeps giving you looks and you start to panic.

it's funny, really, the lengths you go to deny your feelings. it annoys him, though; you’re so quick to dismiss things, to want to explain everything away, but this time you really can’t run. he chuckles at the thought, and you glance at him sharply. “it’s not funny.” your voice is barely audible, so he leans closer to hear you better, but you’re both soaked from the water so naturally he starts taking off his clothes.

your delayed reaction is ultimately your downfall; you stare at him, wide-eyed, shock temporarily halting your rationality. “wh-what are you doing? stop that.” it’s too late, though, he’s already naked. you know that it doesn’t make sense for either of you to be in the shower right now, but it seemed like a good idea in the heat of the moment; now you regret it. sort of.

“why? i don’t want to stand around in wet clothes.” his answer is sound, logical even; you just don’t like it because no matter what he does, his attractiveness never fades. he thinks you’re being unintentionally cute and funny, even says it to you when he tugs on your towel and watches it fall to the floor. a wet clump that’s currently unsalvageable.

it's one transgression after another with him; you smack his arm and he laughs at you, at your stubbornness and insistence on being extra difficult when you can easily let go and give in. but, that’s the thing — you’re much too afraid of what you’ll become once you take that step. still, you’re a bit mesmerized with the way the water glides down his body, taking a long moment to watch intently. when you catch yourself, your face heats up — and you blame the temperature of the water, of course.

ace, however, knows better.

the stalls next to you are now occupied, but you’ve forgotten about the intruders because ace is looking at you like he’s figured you out. “anyway,” he starts again, because he’s determined to have this conversation whether you want to or not, “about last night—” you shush him, place both of your hands over his mouth this time, doing your best to keep him quiet for fear of the others overhearing.

“there’s nothing to talk about.” you don’t want to revisit the absolute mess you made of your confession, of how you turned back and told him you were just joking, of how you literally ran out and hid from him for the remainder of the night — much to his rising frustration, although he likes that side of you too.

ace simply steps closer to you, body flush against yours; his hands roam down your back and grabs onto your ass. the intrusion makes you squeal louder than you meant to; suddenly, there are several voices around asking if you’re okay. ace smirks, you feel his smugness in the way his shoulders won’t stop shaking as he tries to contain his laughter, even as you keep your hands over his mouth. a pathetic attempt at handling a situation that keeps getting worse as time goes on.

“i’m fine!” you chirp, hoping you sound convincing. “just thought i saw a bug.” the resounding laughter around you both calms your nerves and annoys you. but ace uses the opportunity to back you against the wall and kiss the palm of your hand. it becomes a bit too intimate for you, so you release your hold, drop your hands and let them settle on his arms.

it's absurd, you know it is. even more absurd is how fast your heart is beating and how there’s a suspicious ache growing in between your thighs. you blame ace, of course; blame him for putting you in this state, where you oscillate between arousal and cowardice. he does his best to be patient, but your body is incredibly soft, and his cock is already stiff — a reoccurring pain in his ass. he more or less has an idea of why you keep running, but this time he’s certain things will work out in his favor.

you know that the more you deny yourself, the harder it is to resist him and you’re so tired of fighting. maybe if you give in just once, you’ll get it out of your system and can move forward with your life. he knows better than that, though, but you convince yourself that everything will fall into place afterward — where you won’t have to deal with unnecessary emotions, where you won’t have to constantly be on alert whenever he’s around.

ace places a kiss on your jaw, drags his lips down the side of your neck, teeth grazing your skin as he bites you playfully. despite how your brain has turned into unrecognizable mush, you manage to remain cognizant enough to wrap your hand around his cock and stroke him slowly. there’s a moment where you almost stop breathing, and it’s when you look up and see the heated look on his face, the intensity behind his gaze is enough to make your movements falter for a bit. you increase your pace — hand moving up and down in a fluid motion, thumb brushing along the head of his cock, swiping at his slit; ace’s soft pants and groans invigorate you, make you stroke him faster.

it doesn’t take much for you ignore the chatter and background noise around you, because without warning ace’s mouth finds yours. this isn’t the first time he’s kissed you, and it certainly won’t be the last — but it’s the first time, in a long, long time where you feel like your body is an inferno, determined to burn you alive. he kisses you with fervor and familiarity, as if he’s done this hundreds of times before, burning you repeatedly as his tongue caresses yours. you’ve completely forgotten why you were fighting him so much when you clearly enjoy the way he touches you.

you place a hand over your mouth once he pushes your legs apart, refusing to make a sound and let him completely have his way; it’s a difficult task since your pussy is the worst kind of traitor, arousal slipping through your folds without a care in the world. that insolent smirk of his — the one that tends to find him whenever he’s up to no good — makes its way onto his lips, causing you to narrow your eyes at him. miraculously, you refrain from slapping it off of his face.

his fingers move quick, grazing along your slit before slipping inside your dripping folds. his thumb brushes against your throbbing clit, rubs slow circles around it, and he watches you struggle to keep quiet. and while he wants to draw all of this out, he knows there’s only so many minutes a person can stay in a shower before someone gets suspicious. you bite your hand the moment his fingers slide into your needy hole, not bothering to tease you as he plunges them in deeply.

your hips jut forward almost immediately, his thick fingers scissoring inside as your plush walls squeeze around them tightly. he tugs on your earlobe with his teeth, fingers moving faster as he whispers unreasonable things like “why are you holding back, you were so vocal before” and “don’t cover your mouth, i want to hear you” when you insist on stifling each sound that threatens to burst from deep inside of you. it’s just so damn embarrassing, you can hardly stomach it — and yet, you keep moaning and looking at him; demure and aroused.

if your heart beats any faster, any louder, you might just actually die in that shower — with ace’s fingers still lodged deep inside of your cunt. not a bad way to end things, honestly, but you’d hate for anyone to find you compromised like this. and just when you feel like you’re on the precipice, dangling off the edge, ready to fall — he pulls his fingers out rather suddenly, your legs nearly give out and you whine unintentionally.

something about your reaction makes him laugh — maybe it’s because of how you can’t seem to figure out if you’re mad or happy at the turn of events, or maybe it’s because you’re already pulling him back in for a sloppy tongue kiss. he lifts you up, keeping your back pressed against the wall, your legs wrapping around him to hold yourself up. your hands shake while they guide the tip of his cock to your entrance, and you rub your pussy against him eagerly. tired of all the teasing, ace buries his cock into you — hurried and powerful, hips snapping against yours roughly. your hands grip his shoulders for support, nails digging into his skin, whimpering pathetically against his lips as you kiss him again.

you’re not sure if it’s the steam from the water, the taboo of fucking in the shower with others around, or if it’s just him but you forget yourself for a moment, drunk from the euphoria that ace brings each time he thrusts into you. he keeps his hips close to yours, barely keeping it together as he fucks you harder; your pussy is much too warm and tight, addicting without meaning to be. if he could fuck you every day for the rest of his life, he’d leave the pirating life behind without hesitation. a powerful notion, one that confuses him although he barely dwells on it. he’s much too focused on ruining your life with his intoxicating strokes, your arousal slipping down his length, making it easy for him to slide in and out without issue.

you’re not sure how long you both go at it, but at a certain point, all you can focus on is the way his breathing grows ragged and on the obscene, squelching noises that your pussy makes, his cock still thick and heavy as he pummels it into your aching hole. something builds in your abdomen, spreads through your body, brings a shudder to your chest; nothing can prepare you for the way your orgasm hits you — a white, hot fury that slams into you repeatedly. you lose all sense of decorum, lips swollen from all the kissing — parting to moan shamelessly. and when he whispers in your ear, telling you to say his name, you’re absolutely helpless against him; and you do say it, or yell, rather.

loud enough to rouse him into laughing at you again; loud enough to make the others who were lingering in the bathroom to gasp and whisper; loud enough that your voice grows hoarse afterward. he’s actually impressed with you and works you through your orgasm as your pussy flutters around him — creaming and overwhelmed from the ferocity of ace’s thrusts. he doesn’t last much longer, his mouth littering your neck with kisses, sucking and biting your skin. he cums inside of you without thinking — thick, hot, your nails raking over his back from how full you feel. you never thought that you’d find yourself in this situation, yet here you are, panting and clinging to him pathetically, heart pounding as you press your chest against his. you realize this won’t help your situation, but you can’t go back — you both know that. he places a soft kiss on the side of your mouth, and you almost cry at the intimacy. almost.

he makes a snarky remark about how well you took him and how he’s proud that you lasted as long as you did. you’re much too tired to fight him, but you remind yourself to berate him over it later. for now, you’ll have to deal with showering again and trying your best to keep your hands off of one another in the process. you never imagined your confession would lead to ace fucking you like that, but you suppose it was bound to happen anyway; you just don’t know how you’ll be able to face your crew mates later, knowing that some of them heard you.

at the very least, ace doesn’t seem bothered by it, and maybe one day you won’t be bothered by it too.

#fic request #milestone event #500+ followers event #🍭✨🍨sticky & sweet event🧁✨🍭#one piece imagine #one piece smut #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #portgas d. ace #portgas d. ace smut #portgas d. ace x reader #portgas d. ace x y/n #ace x reader #ace x y/n #ace smut #ace being a menace is canon atp

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shamrockqueen · 9 months

Text

Thigh Rider

Pairing : Yuri Boyka X Reader

Warnings : PWP, Thigh riding, Thigh humping, dirty talk in a Russian accent.

Word count : 1239

AO3 Link

He traced his thumb over the quote as he read it over a second time.

У человека все в руках, и все ускользает сквозь пальцы от чистой трусости (Man has it all in his hands, and it all slips through his fingers from sheer cowardice.)

He would remember to hold onto all of the gifts he has been given thus far from now until the very end of his days. A warm bed, a loving home, and a beautiful woman that holds tightly in her hand the key to his once cold and icy heart.

She stood not far from where he sat, peering past the kitchen doorway and into the living room towards him, reading his book as he rested in an armchair.

He was strong, thick of frame, with short dark hair still shaved at the sides with a thick strip down the center as he always had it. A thachy goatee circles his pink lips as he runs his tongue between them in thought as his dark brown eyes search over each page.

You only stood by your hiding spot near the doorway as you watched him, envious of the simple hardback as it stole his attention from you. You craved what you greedily took every day to always have his eyes and hands on you. So much so that you wished he’d look up from his book and back at you.

As if he heard your thoughts, he did just as they asked, pulling his gaze from the pages and directing it towards you. You nearly tried to head under his now-heavy watch, ducking sheepishly towards the edge of the doorway.

He knew what you wanted; it was always too easy to tell. Whoever you hid from like this, it meant you wanted something naughty but couldn’t work up the courage to ask.

"Speak," he called out, his accent minimal with just the one-word phrase. His deep voice booming throughout the adjoining rooms. He didn’t like playing silly games with you. If you want something from him, you’ll have to ask; otherwise, you’ll go without.

"I-I just wanted to…to see you." You answered back, as meek as ever. He hated it when you acted fearful, like a shivering lamb standing before a snarling wolf. He was your cuddly bear, and you were his wily fox.

He set his book on the table beside him and gestured for you to approach. He needn’t ask twice, but at first you only hesitantly leave your perch by the doorway to approach him.

"Quit playing mouse. You make a far better pussycat." His voice came out as a low growl, a thick Russian purr erupting from his tightly gritted teeth.

You weren’t fooling anybody.

You trot over and nearly throw yourself onto his lap to cry like the spoiled brat you were. You only wanted his attention. You never felt more special than when you had all of him to yourself, so now that he was yours again, you buried yourself in the white cotton fabric of the chest of his thin tank top. It was coupled with the compressive gym shorts he’d worn when he worked out in the garage.

You were clad in one of your little white dresses and a pair of frilly white socks, but nothing else. It left your breasts to press freely against the soft fabric and your core to be grazed by the cool air of the room.

One of your legs is wedged between his so that your knee nudged his covered cock, but the other nearly dangled over his leg and off the chair, letting your bare pussy press to his equally unencumbered thigh.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, whimpering into his shoulder, "I just wanted some attention."

It wasn’t untrue, but he could tell you had wanted far more than a little of his focus, mainly by the way he could feel your slick little cunny pressing against his skin.

He bumps you with his leg like he’s bouncing you in his lap, making you little pussy rub against him faster than you had done yourself.

You whine just the way he likes. That shrill squeak let him know he could twitch at you however he wanted. But, what he wanted to see was you getting off all by yourself on his thick thigh.

"This is what you wanted, isn’t it? You wanted to press your pretty pussy against me, right Kukla?" He spoke with a deep laugh as he looked over the beautiful display before him.

You nod vigorously with a "yes, yes please," all desperate as you palm his cock, only to have your fingers swatted away.

"You want to cum, do it yourself!" He huffed like an angry bull before bouncing his leg from under you, dragging it along your exposed flower, and ruffling your folds.

Your face turns a hot red as you do as you’re told, spreading your cunt slowly along his thigh before pressing hard and pushing your hips back up towards his pelvis.

"Good girl, Kukla" His chest rumbled as he spoke.

You give a whimper before dragging and pushing your hips again, making your little flower drool all over him. He’s goading you on as your pussy sucks at his bare thigh.

Your body shuttered with each drag of your hips and bump of his thigh. All while he looked down at you and chuckled to himself. This little game was fun, but the sight of you riding just his leg was driving him almost equally as crazy, making his cock stiffen from where it was tightly confined in his shorts. It was time to end this quickly so he could bury himself inside your sweet cunt.

"Cum, baby, I know you can." His words drip right off his tongue with a thick Russian drawl. It spurs you on to quicken your pace, chasing that sweet, fluttery release.

He bounces you on his knee as you try to shuck your cunt along his leg. As he’s grinning wolfishly down at you, his precious little doll is fucking herself against his leg like a horny brat.

You’re crying into the air as your nails dig into his skin, making him hiss. You shake your hips as his leg still shakes below you to tease you to your finish.

His little doll sings for him so shrill, loud, and beautiful that he could just wrap his thick, hard arms around you and grind you down on his leg until you’re creaming all over his skin.

Your movements are furious, but your mind is blinded by a burst of white lights, turning your little brain all hazy. You can’t think, and you only whine and cry as you spill slick all over his skin.

Your body feels too heavy to continue, but your hips propel you slowly as you ride each wave until it pulls you under and you're collapsing against his shoulder as he chuckles nice and low and hungry.

"Is my Kukla tired already?" He says as he pushes your hips off of his leg until you're further into his lap and your sensitive core is pressed against the hard bulge in his shorts, "You have no more energy for me?"

Like a dimming flame doused with kerosene, the drag of your cunt over the outline of his cock has you burning up for him all over again.

@annwoods91

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dearshelby · 1 year

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The road to peace

Summary: Nine days after coming home from France, Tommy still can't sleep. The war isn't over yet and he's filled with shame. An intense, confusing experience forces him to decide what path his life will take now.

A/N: Alright, here it is 👀 I'm nervous about this one but I'm open to any suggestions, compliments or criticism. Also, allow me to remind everyone Tommy might feel OOC in here because he's not heading to become a gangster, that's the AU's proposal, you don't need to read it if it's not your cup of tea

Chapter 1: Tommy, the coward.

The particles of dust drifted as the shovels buried in the walls, ditching the passage deeper into the ground. Tommy was the second in line, waiting with the bomb in his hands.

The soldier in the front stopped, making everyone behind him freeze. He looks back at his conrads, gesturing a shushing sign and pointing up.

Above their heads, the Germans dug a tunnel.

The soldier points at Tommy, then to the bomb he carried. With a subservient nod, he sets the explosive. They all turned around, ready to crawl the way out, in a matter of seconds, the enemy line would be blown up.

When the first wood started to crackle, they just kept crawling, silently, unaware that the whole structure above them was about to sag.

The first scream got muffled and everything got dark.

Tommy wakes up with a jump, his eyes wandering all over the place looking for any threats, but there aren't any. He's in his bedroom, in his home in England.

It should bring him some relief, but it doesn't. Not when the war isn't over, not when his brothers are still fighting.

A tired sigh leaves his lips, nine days, he's been home for nine days and didn't get any rest yet.

Finally, he realizes it wasn't only the nightmare that woke him up. There's somebody knocking on the door as well.

"Tommy?" Polly's insistent voice calls, "There's mail from Arthur! I told him you're home!"

Oh, for fucks' sake, Tommy knows he couldn't hide his cowardice forever, he only hoped to be the one to explain the situation, surely he could provide a better explanation than his aunt. He runs a hand on his face trying to look a little presentable before answering the door.

"Did I wake you up?" she handed him the letter.

"Yeah," Tommy walks back inside the bedroom and closes the door on Polly's face.

"Won't you come down for breakfast?" she yells.

"Later," he dismisses.

Sitting at the end of the bed, he stares at the envelopes in his hand. His bigger brother, the one who taught him how to pickpocket and throw a good punch, now knows he isn't the man he is expected and taught to be.

A war-shy bastard, is that what he became? No, he isn't like the boys who hid in the basement to avoid being dragged to the battlefield and he didn't accept Johnny Dogs' offer of traveling away until dust settles.

He fought the hardest he could, he fought for the people of Small Heath, for his brothers, for his country and mainly, for the broken heart he desperately needed to mend.

Tommy fought with all his strength, but it wasn't enough.

With a gulp, he opens the letter, expecting nothing but the scorn he believes to deserve. The warm greetings tranquilize him, Arthur took it easier on Tommy than he does on himself.

"Hope you get well soon, brother. Things are still rough over here, I'm glad you're safe at home."

Tommy scoffs at Arthur's protectiveness, hating to be looked down, as if he doesn't have the capacity of going through something rough, as if he needs to be protected.

Hiding the letter under his pillow, he decides it's better not to answer yet. He doesn't want to face the bitter fact he lost his toughness and would've become a burden if he stayed in France.

Heading downstairs, he enters the kitchen and notices a calendar on the wall, 1st November 1918, the war started in 1914, four years ago.

A harrowing feeling crawls into Tommy's chest, he misses his brothers, he misses the normal life, how long would it take for peace to be declared? Will he even survive until there?

"Morning," Ada walks in, "I hope you're not waiting for me or Pol to make you breakfast,"

"Not at all," he drawles and pours himself a cup of tea.

"How are you? Managed to get any sleep?" she sits on the table.

"No,"

"Oh, I thought-"

"You thought wrong, Ada," he sits down in front of her.

"Well, I-" she sighs, "Polly and I are going to get groceries, will you be fine on your own?"

"I'm not a fucking kid,"

"I know, Tom, I'm just making sure, do you want anything special?"

He negatively nods and Ada leaves the kitchen. For the first time in nine days, he's home alone.

The house is quiet, it feels normal but not safe, like sitting in a public place in which no one should attack you, but there's still a possibility.

He broods over with his cup of tea, his sister thinks he's fine again, probably because she didn't hear any screams last night, the reason isn't what she thinks though, Tommy didn't scream because he was awake the whole time, he had given up of sleeping, only getting some rest when exhaustion unwillingly claimed his body, then the nightmare woke him up.

All the previous nights, he tried to sleep and failed, he drank the tea Polly gave him, read a book, listened to calming music, none of it helped.

Regardless of what Tommy does, he'd wake up screaming in the middle of the night.

Suddenly, his stomach growls, just tea isn't enough to quench his hunger. He grabs a piece of bread and a frying pan from the cabinet, turning the stove on, he remembers all the times his mother made warm bread on the pan.

He waited near the stove to be the first one to get a plate, it made Arthur and his dad mad.

After getting the lard, Tommy makes up his meal. He doesn't bother putting it on a plate, preferring to eat directly from the pan, a plate would only mean more dishes to wash.

Before he can get the first bite, three heavy knocks on the betting shop's door surprises him. He drops the bread on the floor with his heart pounding quickly in his chest.

"Mrs. Gray!" an unknown voice calls, "C'mon, I know you're there! I need to lay a bet!"

Tommy breathes heavily. Polly is not here, he shouldn't be here either. His hands start to shake.

Another three knocks on the door make his world swing, he's dizzy. What is happening to him? It's just noise, just a man wanting to lay a fucking bet.

Leaning against the wall, he takes deep breaths expecting it'll help him calm down, but it only suffocates him. He folds his arms around himself and sits on the floor.

Another three knocks. Tommy can't tell if the man is still calling or not.

Sweat covers his freckled face, his sight gets blurry as bile rises to his mouth. He turns to the side and throws up.

Sitting next to his own vomit, he holds his head in his hands. The noise is gone. He's alone again.

His chest moves up and down at a slower pace now, his hands are still shaking, but the dizziness is gone. Tommy puts his hands down and keeps his eyes closed.

Minutes pass fast and he opens his eyes again, everything is still in place, nothing changed, except him, he changed from a thief to a soldier to a frightened, pathetic man.

He couldn't live like this, there's no place in the world which is completely silent the whole time, he couldn't hide from people and loud noises.

Ashamed, Tommy stands up, picks up his bread from the floor and throws it away, he puts the pan on the sink and takes an already dirty cloth, cleaning his vomit with it.

He washes the cloth and frowns, he's not hungry anymore, just tired and too scared to sleep. And what now? Nothing has been assigned for him to do, he doesn't belong here anymore, nor in the battlefield, nor anywhere. He's dead weight.

However, he's alive, he's a survivor, he died once and won't do it again, now there's only extra time and he's clueless about what to do with.

His eyes widen when Polly and Ada arrive, carrying two paper bags each. Tommy promptly takes them from his aunt and puts them on the table. Ada does the same.

"Tomatoes again, Pol?" Tommy peeks inside the bag.

Polly stares at him in silence and tells her niece, "Ada, go upstairs, will you? I need to talk to Tommy."

"Why can't I-"

"It's adult business, you won't understand, now go."

Ada sighs and leaves the kitchen. Tommy looks at his aunt with confusion, "Is everything alright?"

"What 's that?" Polly grabs the waistband of his trousers, only then he notices the dry puke in it.

"I threw up,"

"Why?"

Tommy ashamedly looks away, continuing to take the groceries out of the bags. He won't tell Polly the stupid reason why he got ill.

"You need to do something about it, Tommy, go to a doctor or something,"

"Eh?" he scoffs, "Go to the fucking doctor and tell him what, Polly?"

"Tell him what happened,"

"As if he can do something about it,"

"If it happens when you're alone then you should get a company,"

"I don't need a fucking babysitter,"

"Not a babysitter, someone who can put your fires out,"

"Stop it, Pol," Tommy harshly asks.

"I'm serious, Thomas, you're back home now, it's time to move on,"

"I know that, alright?! I fucking know!" Tommy snaps.

Taking his coat and cap from the hanger, he walks out of the house with a scowl in his face. Instinctively, he walks to Uncle Charlie's yard, on the way there, he notices the eyes of the women and few men on him.

Curly is the one to open the yard's gates, greeting him with his usual gentleness, the man is one of the few people Tommy wouldn't judge for refusing to fight.

"And how are you, Tom?" Curly asks.

"Where 's Charlie?"

"He's in the back, I'll call him for you, yeah?"

Tommy sits on an old chair and waits, this time he isn't scared of any judgment, because Charlie hadn't fought too.

"I was wondering when you'd come," Charlie greets, "when Polly said you're back I thought I missed the fucking news, that the war was over,"

"No, war is still going," Tommy mumbles and gets a cigarette from his coat's pocket.

"What the fuck happened to you, Tommy?"

"Honestly? I don't know, Charlie, I don't fucking know,"

The older man sits beside his nephew, both immersed in their own quiet natures. Tommy closes his eyes and blows the smoke out of his lungs, he wants advice he can't ask, he's a grown man and can't simply ask Charlie what to do with his life now.

"Any news from your brothers?"

"They're alive,"

"Uhm, fucking Arthur only sent me one letter saying he'll open a fucking pub when he come back, John didn't send any,"

"He mostly writes to Polly because of his children,"

"Right, and Finn?"

"Still can't fucking write,"

Charlie chuckles, "Don't mock him, you were quite slow yourself at his age, only good to argue and pickpocket,"

"I'm not mocking him, he knows things that are more important than reading and writing,"

A brief silence occurs before Charlie asks, "And what about you, Thomas?"

"I have no fucking idea,"

"But you're back, ain't you?"

"I suppose,"

"Oh, fuck off, what you're gonna do now? Run the betting shop? Steal horses like your dad?"

Tommy doesn't answer, then Charlie realizes what his nephew truly wants, advice.

"Your grandad was a wise man, y'know?" Charlie says, "it was a blessing and a burden, eventually he couldn't stand be in the same place anymore, he started to move around looking for peace,"

"Did he find it?" Tommy asks.

"For a while, yeah, he found a healer who agreed to travel with him and he found peace in the hills, and in her,"

"A healer?"

"Your grandad was sick in the head, Tom, suicide, that's how he went, I guess the woman helped him to stay for a while longer," he explains, "if he had found peace earlier, he could be around now,"

"So peace is on the hills, eh?"

"You know that, you used to sleep outside all the time when you were a kid,"

"I'm not a kid anymore, Charlie,"

"No, but you're still looking for peace,"

"...yeah,"

"If you're too tired to take a wagon, rent a house away from here, I swear, Tom, this city can feel like the end of the road sometimes."

"Thank you, Charlie."

Throwing his cigarette away, Tommy leaves the yard with a made up decision. Small Heath isn't his home anymore.

On the way to the Watery Lane, he steps on the rocks on the ground, soon it'll be grass, the air will be cleaner and the streets will be quieter.

As he walks past the front of a tiny restaurant, a shattering noise makes him jump, the waitress had accidentally dropped the dirty glasses on the floor.

She looks at the broken glass on the floor, then at him, "I scared you, didn't I? I'm sorry, are you alright?"

Tommy takes a deep breath and nods, following his way back home.

Perhaps he needs a healer too.

TRTP MASTERLIST - MAIN MASTERLIST

#tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #civilian!tommy au #the road to peace

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