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astroboots · 9 months

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EVERY YOU EVERY ME #11.5 SPECIAL

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: Let’s start from the beginning one last time.

Word count: 5,800

Warning: Heavy angst and character death. Dead Dove do not eat.

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Let’s start from the beginning one last time.

My name is Miguel O’Hara, and in an experiment gone wrong, my genetic code was partially rewritten with Spider DNA, giving me superpowers.

My home is Earth 928-C where I was the one and only Spiderman... of my home dimension at least.

I invented and built a dimensional travel device that allowed me to jump between universes with the goal of exploring the limits of the multiverse.

And then I met a woman in this other world who nearly died from a crazy freak accident.

I saved her of course.

Then I saved her again.

And again, and again.

... And again.

We fell in love, and I decided to stay with her in her world.

You know the rest. We got married. We had a life together.

I was happy. Really happy.

For a while.

[Earth 383-D]

3 YEARS AGO

"Goddamn idiot bird," Miguel mutters under his breath.

Vulture is on the loose again, wreaking havoc on the city. The maniac is flying high above the city grounds, leaving a trail of mayhem in his wake.

Miguel's been in pursuit for the better half of two hours. In that time, the bird has derailed the High Line, literally hit a traffic light and managed to knock over the spire on the Statue of Liberty as if he was flying under the influence.

Then somehow flew across town through Tribeca, along Lower Manhattan and Greenwich Village and now reached all the way to Midtown Manhattan.

Dumbass ugly stupid bird.

Miguel digs his claws into the exterior of the limestone and granite of the Empire State Building to steady himself, using the momentum to leap forward.

The Vulture crashes into a skyscraper 50 feet ahead of Miguel, and in the mad dash, he can see a man tumble out of the building head first to the ground from the 30th floor.

Swinging forward, Miguel slings out a web from his palm, catching the screaming and sobbing office worker in midair and lands briefly against the windowpane. He ensures the man is secured to the building in a cocoon of webbing until the fire department can get him to safer grounds.

Miguel doesn't even get a second to catch his breath. From afar, he can pick up the sound of another window being crashed into by the unwieldy metal bird.

Crap.

It's impossible for Miguel to both chase the Vulture and keep everyone else in his path of destruction safe. One superhero can't be in two places at once (none that he has encountered).

Gritting his teeth, Miguel leaps off the building swinging freely into the air to make up on the lost ground between him and the metallic cuckoo bird.

He needs backup, and the backup is unfortunately running late.

Where is he? Why is he always late?

Does that man not understand that when someone calls for backup because of an emergency, the emergency part indicates that there's some urgency to it?

Flying through the air 100 feet above the ground, from the corner of his eyes, Miguel catches the familiar garish red flowing cape that billows from the cowl of the grand cloak and suit.

Miguel would know that weird wizard get-up anywhere.

"Strange!" Miguel calls out, and he can feel irritation rattle in his chest. "You're late! Where the shock were you?"

"The word you're looking for is 'fuck.' Where the fuck was I," the man responds with a sarcastic drawl.

Strange levitates through the air, effortlessly without expending any energy at all as he catches up with Miguel. "You gave me no notice. Be happy I showed up at all."

From a distance he sees the dumb bird soar high up into the sky and towards the all too familiar crowned roof of the Chrysler building.

No. nononono.

Why is he there? What is he doing there? Anywhere but there.

His back flashes cold then burning hot as the Vulture makes a straight beeline for the familiar building.

It’s fine. Maybe he’s not going to fly in there. Maybe he’s just going to fly past it.

Miguel watches as the metallic bird soars up and up and up, past the midpoint of the building, past the 40th floor of your office and up to the 50th floor. The tight squeeze in his chest eases.

Then the vulture stops, mid-flight and looks down below, as if he changed his mind, before he descends again.

Shit! Shit! SHIT!

He dives into one of the windows between the 40th and 50th floor. The sound of broken glass and shrill screams can be heard even from where Miguel is.

Blood freezes in his veins and nausea overtakes him. Calm down. Breathe.. Maybe you’re not in. After all, Lyla’s security protocols would’ve been activated by now if you were. He would’ve been alerted.

Soaring through the skies, Miguel reaches over to his wrist to punch in the dial for Lyla to check in and reassure himself you're safe. But his tracker blinks back in an alarming red, and he darts down his head towards the display.

Error.

His heart stops.

The flying silhouette reappears through the shattered windows and the metallic harness strapped onto the vulture gleams bright against the sun.

It’s only then it hits him. Lyla's been deactivated by the madman's stupid Electro-Magnetic Harness.

Why hadn't he foreseen that as a technical flaw?

Against the reflective glass panes, Miguel sees you, caught in the Vulture talons like a mouse captured by a large predatory bird. Every hair on his neck stands on end. His vision bleeds into red, blood roaring at the sight of it.

Kill him.

Miguel's gonna murder that freak for touching you. Crush his windpipe so he can't ever squawk again, then rip his throat out with his claws and feed it to the street pigeons for good measure.

Launching himself through the air, Miguel tears up the side of the building. The tempered glass beneath his claws and feet, shatters into sharp jagged pieces as he closes the distance.

He is almost within reach. Only some 30 feet that still separates you from him. Leaping the final distance he slams hard into the side of the Vulture until metal crunches beneath his feet.

Miguel roars until his throat burns with it. Palms gripping at the man’s jaw and prying it back to get at his bare throat. His fangs are ready to sink into the jugular. He can see the dark pupil of Vulture's eyes dilate with fear.

Good. Miguel's anger will be the last thing this freak sees.

"Miguel calm down," Strange shouts at him from behind. "You're gonna knock her off."

Miguel freezes at the warning, forcing himself to hold still as he looks down to where you are dangling precariously from the Vulture's claws.

"Be ready," Strange shouts, and Miguel looks to him, not understanding what the hell he means.

Strange rests his hand over the shiny blue gem hanging around a chain from his neck.

What does he mean by be ready? What is Strange going to do?

"What'd you mea–"

Miguel doesn't have a chance to finish the rest of his sentence. An unnatural force vibrates through him. A pulsating wave that pervades his senses, punching through his lungs and knocks him back.

In an instance, you're propelled away from Strange and the Vulture, and you are freefalling towards the ground below.

Miguel leaps mid-air, arms outstretched to catch you as you plummet towards the ground below. His fingers clasps around your wrists, your warm skin against his fingertips.

He's got you!

Taking hold of you by the arm, Miguel pulls you into his chest as he wraps one arm securely around your waist.

Immediate relief fills him from the inside out as the adrenaline and the searing anger is already starting to fade now that he knows you're safe.

"You okay, nena?" he asks.

You nod, arms finding purchase around the back of his neck, and squeeze down tight. He swings you both to the safety of a nearby rooftop.

There's barely time for him to touch the surface, he hears the nearby explosion and sees Vulture crash into the concrete wall of the nearest building.

Strange is levitating nearby, hands making wild gestures, presumably to perform some hocus pocus ritual. There’s a magical glow as strobes of light manifest out of thin air surrounding the Vulture from all sides and wrapping around him in a restraining bind.

Miguel sets you down. You're a little bit wobbly on your feet, and seeing you stumble the way you do has that protective streak spark anew in his chest.

Stupid Strange. He can't just do shit like that.

What if Miguel hadn't reacted in time? What if you had fallen?

This is why Miguel hates working with the guy, even if they’re friends. Always on his moral high horse about Miguel being reckless, then he pulls shit like this.

"Everyone alright?" Strange asks as he levitates through the sky to set feet close to you both on the rooftop.

Miguel grits his teeth with annoyance at the man’s casual demeanor when he nearly threw you out of the sky.

"Shock you, Strange," he spits out.

"Miggy..." you sigh in a reprimanding tone next to him.

Stephen shakes his head at him. "I told you. It's fuck"

"Fuck you, Strange."

Sanctum Sanctorum is closer than home and Strange has, comfortable sofas in his ridiculously big mansion. Big enough sofas that Miguel can actually lounge in them comfortably without it feeling cramped. It's why, given the choice, he always prefer to regroup there, over your tiny apartment.

Besides, while the man's control over his magical powers can be suspect at times, he used to be a doctor. Supposedly one of the leading brain surgeons in the world, and Miguel is a lot more comfortable at the prospect of Strange giving you a checkover to make sure you don't need further medical attention than trying your luck at one of the local ERs.

"Follow my finger," Strange says as he shines a little flashlight into your eyes and moves his index from side to side.

Your eyes follow him dutifully, and Strange proceeds with the rest of his medical check, asking you the boring standard questions. "Any symptoms of dizziness, lightheadedness, or a sense of vertigo?"

He fires them out in rapid succession, and a bit too perfunctory for Miguel's liking.

"Noticed any changes in your vision, blurriness or double vision, etcetera etcetera?"

Miguel's jaw tic in irritation at how Strange is putting in minimal effort and just going through the motions.

"Yeah, you're fine." Strange pats your knees, then whisks the flashlight away into nothingness with his cape.

That medical check wasn't anything close to thorough. Miguel crosses his arms over his chest. "Are you sure? Her feet were wobbly before, I wanted to make sure she didn't sprain her ankle."

"A little bit overprotective as always aren't we?" Strange says.

Miguel shoots the man a glare and Stephen sighs, "Her reflexes are fine, I don't think anything's sprained."

"Check again, you seemed sloppy," Miguel accuses.

"You know, I'm doing this as a favor because you’re a friend. Do you have any idea how much a medical examination by one of the leading neurological surgeons in the world would cost you normally?"

"I'll have Lyla transfer the money."

“No, it’s not actually about money just–" Stephen shakes his head, then sighs. "Nevermind.”

He gestures for you to drape your leg across his lap, then he reaches over to gently assess your ankle as requested.

"What is this necklace?" You ask. You lean closer to Strange, inspecting the blue gem where it rests against his chest.

Strange swats at your hand, the way an adult scolds a child with sticky chocolate smeared hands trying to touch the fine china.

"It's a protection amulet. When activated it forms a protective barrier that forcibly repels everything within ten feet of you."

"Huh," you reach back for the amulet undaunted by the earlier reprimand, fascinated and clearly enamored by it. "I'll give you fifty bucks for it."

Strange looks offended. "It's not for sale, and if it was it would certainly be worth a lot more than fifty dollars. It's a genuine magical artifact, not fake costume jewelry from the theater department."

You purse your lips, considering the amulet.

"Forty," you offer.

Miguel has to choke back a snorting laughter in his throat at the way Stephen's eyes goes wide in confused outrage.

"Wait, why is the price going down?"

“We’re in the middle of an economic crisis, Stephen,” you counter.

Strange's head darts over to where Miguel sits, presumably for backup, but he's knocked on the wrong door. The man must be mad if he thinks that there is ever a world where Miguel would side against you.

"Strange, we both know it’s easier if you just give her the amulet." Miguel says.

The man sighs, shaking his head in defeat.

"Be careful with it," he says as he drags the chain over his head to place it in your awaiting palms. "And don't lose it like the invisibility amulet with Mysterio. Had to spend a whole month clearing up your mess when that creep used it to get into the women's locker rooms at every local gym in Greenwich!"

"That wasn’t my mess! Miggy lost that one during an aerial fight. You can't blame that on me."

"You married him, so you're responsible for him. I consider you two jointly to blame."

"Now you're just lashing out," you shoot back.

Miguel watches the two of you in patient boredom, his head propped up by an elbow on the arm of the sofa. He expended way too much energy during the fight, and now he needs to refuel.

If Miguel leaves you two to it, you'll spend an eternity bantering, the way you do. His stomach growls. He wants food. Wants wantons and beef ho fun and a dozen custard salted egg buns for dessert. And the longer you two are at it, the longer it's going to take for him to get it.

"Nena," he calls out, "I'm hungry. Are you two done? I want to go for dinner."

You shoot Miguel a quick smile, pulling out your wallet and take out a wad of green bills then fold it into Strange's hand with a happy grin.

Strange looks down at the crumpled up money in his hand. "Wait, you're only giving me thirty? I thought we said forty."

"You still owe me like ten bucks from mini golf last week."

Strange pockets the money with a grumble. "Unbelievable."

“C’mon,” Miguel says as he stands up and gestures to the both of you with a curt nod of his head towards the door. “Let’s go. I’ll pay for dinner this time,” Miguel says, and that seems to abate Strange’s outrage somewhat as the man grabs your coat from the sofa cushions and offers it to you.

Life on Earth 383-D is strange.

Life here is borderline primitive. The technology is something out of the stone ages.

Social media is a wasteland. Reality TV is a dystopian concept. And he doesn't understand who Kardashian is or why everyone is obsessed with her and her family.

He does like fax machines though. They are basically teleportation machines and it boggles him that the people of your dimension do not seem to understand its potential.

The one thing he will give this version of earth credit for is that the food here is nice. Everyone in his home dimension is too health conscious, and fried food has long been banned by the government for the long term damage it does to the cardiovascular system.

He also likes the life that the two of you have built together here. You have a home in that tiny shoebox apartment. You have friends. Strange friends. Like the Doctor who flies around with the help of a magic cape and now practices the mystic arts after a gap year in Asia. A young girl whose main superpower is the ability to communicate with squirrels. Then there’s that ugly red-masked wise-cracking, katana-wielding maniac who never dies.

Sadly, your friends are not the only thing that is strange about your surroundings.

Miguel perches himself on top of the Chrysler building sitting hunched over on the ledge of the roof. He’s drained and bone-tired, chasing down a helicopter that had gone haywire and was hurtling towards your office building.

Luckily Strange was able to assist and sent it through a magic portal to crash into the Atlantic without putting any lives at stake.

"Just had to do some cleaning up," Strange says as he sets his boots back down on the ground.

Miguel doesn't answer him, staring out at the city view and the setting sun as he takes a well earned breather for a moment or two. New York is a bit of a shit hole, but it does look pretty from a high viewpoint, especially when the sun is setting, Miguel has to give this city that.

It's silent between the two of them. Or at least it is until Strange decides to break it with a harkle of his throat. When Miguel doesn't react the man does it again, coughing discreetly in a clear attempt to get his attention.

Miguel doesn't say anything about the man's sore throat. He ran out of the lemon drops you bought him as snacks hours ago, but he does tilt his head up at the man.

"She's been getting into a lot of these incidents lately. More than usual, more than any normal human for it to be a coincidence" Strange says.

The whole of Miguel's back stiffens.

"Have you noticed the abnormal uptick in strange unexplainable supernatural occurrences lately? Indoor tornadoes. The rain of poisonous frogs outside of whole foods. A sinkhole appearing right next to the cafe your wife frequents."

Miguel doesn't love the insinuations. Even with his lips pressed tightly together, Miguel can feel the small muscle in his jaw flex like a nervous tic at the mention of it. Because yeah, he's noticed, kind of hard to miss when your wife's life is in constant peril at all hours of the day.

Ice storms in July that hit right outside your workplace. An inexplicable solar flare causing a blackout that had every single vehicle within a 5 miles radius go haywire in the dark near your apartment. A swarm of mutated mosquitoes with a venomous bite that chased you down Central Park.

The incidents are occurring more frequently. They are also getting increasingly bizarre and dangerous.

No one can say it’s just bad luck when the daily occurrences around you are defying the very laws of nature itself. Something isn't right with the universe, and he's not sure what else there is to do except pretend that everything is still ok.

"What are you implying?" Miguel asks through gritted teeth.

But for the first time in the years that Miguel has known him, Strange's talkativeness is nowhere to be found. He doesn't answer Miguel. He's smart that way, the clever bastard. Knows that if he says one wrong word, Miguel is going to unhinge his jaws like a feral alligator and snap at him.

Strange has said what he needed for Miguel to know exactly what he's getting at. The man just meets his eyes with an intentional stare, not shying away from Miguel's glare.

It's not like the thought hasn't crossed Miguel's mind. Not like it hasn't been keeping him up at night, every night.

Even though you've always been accident prone and suffered from bad luck, at this point it's a mathematical impossibility that anyone would run into as many near death incidents as you have.

This isn't by chance. It's by design. Miguel's suspected as much for a while now. He just doesn't know whose design and why.

"It's not her fault," Miguel spits out.

"I never said it was."

"Even if what you are saying is true..." Miguel stops, and stares down at his fisted palms with a sinking feeling in his guts. "There's nothing she can do about it to stop it. You can't put that on her."

"Whether she knows about it or not, if it's true, none of this is going to go away.

Strange walks over to where Miguel is, sitting down next to him.

"It’s been escalating in severity," he continues. "There are strange universal energies attached to her. There’s warping of the universal order and space around her. We don't know how bad this can get, if we don’t do anything about this, it could unravel the fabric of reality itself."

Despite the calamity of what Strange is implying, his voice is even and calm as he says it as if he might as well be discussing the weather. That trait has always annoyed the shit out of Miguel.

"What are you planning to do if this continues?" Strange asks.

It's such a silly question. Strange says it as if this is a multiple choice question. But for Miguel there's only one correct answer.

"Protect her. I have to. She's everything to me."

Miguel is staring into the sunset bu all he sees before him is your face even though you aren’t here. The happy smile that he wants to preserve forever. He tries to fight the ache that's building in him at the thought that it would go away.

"Strange, don't tell her. Please. She doesn't need that burden."

He fists his palms into his side.

Miguel never liked asking for help, but even he knows that if what Strange is saying is true. That if the universe for some unfathomable reason wants you dead, then he's going to need all the help he can get.

If Strange has figured it out. Then it's only a matter of time before others do as well.

Soon enough, you won't just have the universe coming after you but every superhero and villain combined in a united front to take out the common threat that you pose to this entire universe.

Even Miguel knows he can't do this alone and as much as that helplessness tastes like failure and bile in his throat, he can swallow his pride if it helps keep you safe.

"Stephen, you have to help me save her."

From behind, Strange rests one hand on the corner of his shoulder. The weight of it feels like a promise being made. For the first time in a long time, Miguel feels like he can breathe just a little bit easier.

"I will do what I can, my friend."

Weeks go by. There are more incidents. Runaway vehicles that go haywire. Electrical storm fires. Rain of poisonous locusts.

Somehow he manages to protect you from it all.

It just means that he has to be more vigilant, that's all. The universe doesn't rest and neither does Miguel now. Lyla has been set on constant alert to wake him up whenever he's napping at any small signs of abnormal occurrences happening near you, with an electric shock to make sure he wakes. Something the A.I. is taking a worryingly amount of glee in (which probably means he needs to retune her programming when he has time).

And today, today Miguel was meant to have a Sunday lie in. Universe be willing, his goal was to sleep all the way into the late afternoon and then you had promised to take him to IHOP and get him all the pancakes he could eat for late breakfast.

But right now he's not asleep. He's trying to. But there are hushed words and whispered murmurs, buzzing in his ear that keeps trying to drag him away from sleep.

It's you and Strange.

Judging from the distance of the noises, you're both standing outside in the hall. The fact that you two are trying to be quiet makes it worse. If you'd spoken in normal volume he could tune it out as white noise, but the conspiratorial quietness of it all makes the hair on the back of his neck tingle with alertness.

Fuck's sake. He swears to god if you two are gossiping and making fun of Hercules’ costume (or the lack of it) again.

It's too early for this crap. Don't you two know that people are trying to sleep? He was up all night chasing crazy Kraven worshippers releasing animals from the Brooklyn zoo. Miguel had to gather wild zebras and crocodiles all the way down East Village til 4am.

With a groan, he drags himself halfway up along the mattress, about to go and growl at you both to be quiet, when the cluttered noises register as words and the fuzziness of sleep clears momentarily.

"He'd destroy this world for you."

Huh? What are you two talking about?

Miguel's too groggy to make sense of the context of what's being said. Even with his super hearing he has to focus to make out the words.

"You can't let him."

Irritated, he gets out of bed and walks to the front door to swing it open. The first thing he sees is you standing with Strange in the hallway. You jump at the suddenness and look up at him with wide eyes.

You have the worst poker face of anyone he's ever seen in his life.

"What are you two jabbering on about this damn early?" he asks.

He'd expected the two of you to act coy, maybe a clever 'wouldn't you like to know' retort back from the Mystic. Instead, Strange's face is entirely inscrutable, tone serious as he responds.

"We were just catching up. Nothing important. I need to head back," Strange says, then he turns to you with a meaningful tilt to his head. "Think about what I said."

"What was that about?" Miguel asks you as he watches Strange step through a portal and disappear.

You don't say anything. There's a worried frown etched between your eyebrows as you bite down on your lip.

Something crawls under Miguel's skin at the whole interaction.

You're oddly quiet the whole afternoon. Deep in thought and walking around as if in a daze, which unsettles him.

It's not difficult for him to guess what's wrong. He might have been half asleep when you and Strange were whispering in the corridors, but Miguel can put one and one together. Having two PHDs and a lifetime's experience of working in theoretical physics gives you that leg up.

In a last ditch effort to get you out of the uncharacteristic blues, he orders a dozen of your favorite cupcakes from that tiny shop in New Jersey. It costs an arm and a leg to have it couriered, but it'll be worth it if it makes you smile.

Then he sits down next to you on the bed and places the pink pastry box down on the mattress. It's your favorite place to eat cakes and it’s why you two always end up with crumbs and frosting all over the sheets.

You happily cram half a cupcake into your mouth in one bite as you eat, and he watches you contently. If there was any fairness in the world, this quiet idyllic moment could last forever. In a good world, Miguel wouldn’t have to burst this perfect bubble.

Sadly, this world is neither fair nor good sometimes.

"Strange said something to you right?" Miguel asks.

You still next to him, clearly torn between whether or not to share what was said to you, probably in secret with the very intention of being kept away from him.

“Nena,” Miguel tries again, and you close your eyes taking a deep breath, caving into his prodding.

"Strange thinks that my incidents might be correlated with the strange natural occurrences lately."

That fucking asshole. He knew it. Irritation pings across his jaw, and Miguel bites it down. He tries to reel it, forcing back the rant that wants to surface. Instead he tries to focus on you instead of his own anger.

"We don't know that. It could just be a series of coincidences," Miguel tells you.

You nod, but Miguel's not an idiot and neither are you. He can see the worry creasing your eyes as you look down to your lap.

Putting down the cupcake, he reaches over and links his right hand with yours.

"Nena, don't worry.” He cups his free hand over your cheek to drag you up to meet his eyes.

“I'll fight the whole universe to keep you safe if I have to. Nothing's ever going to harm you so long as I'm here. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you. You're the most important thing to me."

You smile at him at the words, but there's a wistfulness to it that embeds a dull ache in his chest that he wants to physically rub away to make it stop.

You lean into his touch, until your forehead presses up against his and the physical touch blunts the ache in him for a moment, putting it on pause.

"You’re the most important to me too," you say.

The sky itself cracks open not long after.

It doesn’t take the combined forces and intellect of the entire world too long to hone in on you being the root cause. Soon enough every superhero, mutant, villain and alien starts coming after you. Because hero or villain alike, no one truly wants their world to end, not if it’s not on their terms.

Mysterio tries to kidnap you by the elevator in your apartment building. The Human Torch even tries to burn the whole building down. The Punisher tries to murder you point blank outside your office.

Miguel can’t remember the last time he slept. He’s running on fumes. Day after day, he feels like he’s getting by on borrowed time.

The friends and allies you have thin out fast as the threats to the world increase in severity. Miguel never imagined having Deadpool standing outside his door stating that the life of one single person cannot outweigh the universe itself.

It’s all so stupid. None of them know what they’re talking about. A lynching mob with their torches and pitchforks. Never stopping to think whether harming you could trigger something much worse.

If Strange is right and you are the knot at the center of the fabric of reality that is coming apart, then ripping that out leaves a hole. Miguel gave up on explaining that fairly quickly because he realized that theoretical consequences doesn’t matter to an angry mob scared of facing the reality of extinction.

It all becomes a blur.

Exhaustion eats into his bones, until he can no longer tell the days apart. No matter how many times he saves you, disaster is always waiting just around the corner.

And now he’s chasing down the Green Goblin to the top of the Chrysler building from the 61st floor, where the green freak has cornered you to the edge of the rooftop.

Miguel is already out of breath, running away from the coalition of superheroes and villains that are hot on his heels, trying to stop him from saving you.

Adrenaline beats fast in his veins as he keeps running. Miguel is only able to make out those in pursuit in brief glimpses. The bright blue spandex suit of Reed Richards as his freakishly long elastic limbs stretch towards him. The blocks of metal hurtling towards Miguel, missing by inches and crashes into the side of a building as Magneto’s form hovers nearby.

He ignores them all, not sparing a glance behind him. He just has to keep moving. It doesn't matter that his muscles scream and burn in exhaustion. Doesn't matter that his head dulls with a heavy ache from lack of sleep. He has to keep going for you. Has to save you.

He's so close, he's almost there.

From the corner of his eyes, he makes out the familiar garish red flowing cape fluttering against the blue sky.

Strange.

Miguel marginally relaxes, at the sight of the sole ally he has left in this universe. He leaps across the rooftop, into the temporary safety of the observatory deck.

His feet doesn't even reach the ground. Something restrains him from behind. Bright lights materialize out of thin air. It wraps around Miguel's limb with the strength of unbreakable manacles, hugging him so tight it restricts the flow of blood to his fingers. Then he’s brought down to his knees.

Miguel whips his head back and Strange stands there, hands formed in a holding gesture.

“What are you–”

"I'm sorry," Strange says.

Miguel snarls at his restraints, wrenching and twisting in every direction he is able to even with the limited range of motion, but it's to no avail. The harder he struggles the more forceful the restraints seem to close in on him, mirroring his strength.

"I'm sorry it had to come to this. I really hoped there was another way but every life in the whole of the universe is at stake, Miguel."

Hot burning anger spears through him, and if he could he would raze it all to the ground with it. This place, this world and this fucking traitor standing there can all fucking burn. Miguel is gonna kill him. He's gonna kill this fucking bastard. He can't believe he trusted him.

“Strange, fucking let me… Stephen!”

He hears your pained shout and snaps his head towards the sound.

Miguel is only ten feet away from you. Ten measly feet from where the Green Goblin is holding you by the ledge of the rooftop. He can still reach you, if he can get free he can still save you.

Tearing through the magical binds, there’s a bone-cracking sound in his shoulder. Searing pain spreads through his arm. For all his struggles, he doesn't know if he’s even an inch closer towards you.

He watches you drop from the ledge.

It's a pin drop moment where everything stops. His heart is no longer beating.

No. This can't be how it ends.

He's moving forward, even as the sharp restraints digs into his limbs and flesh and burrows in with an excruciating ache. But the pain doesn't matter. All that matters is you.

It claws into him, and digs and tears, until he is sure that his entire limbs are going to be torn off, but he doesn't stop, keeps pulling against the resisting strength that surrounds him, rips against the hindrance embracing every ounce of the pain until finally, the pressure gives.

There's a cacophony of sound that's left behind him as he leaps through the air. He slingshots downwards, cutting through air as he tries to reach you.

Miguel catches your hand and relief fills his chest.

"I got you. I got you," he murmurs. He's not sure if those words are to calm you or himself.

Pulling you up in defiance of the pull of gravity, he tries to haul you up towards him. Your hand squirms in his, and if you keep going you're going to slip out of his grasp.

"Nena, don't move," he shouts in alarm, but you don't stop, twisting in all directions, making it harder for him to get a better grip.

What're you– You're resisting against his strength, why would you...

It hits him with a sickening realization.

You don' want him to save you.

"Stop!" he shouts. “Stop!”

You shake your head, tears filling the corner of your eyes that flow upwards and everything is upside down to him.

"We’re out of time. You have to let me go,” you say.

His fingers squeeze down even harder at your words, refusing to hear it.

“There's still time. There are still other options. I can still save you!”

Your hand reaches for the amulet pressed against your collarbone. Dread floods every nerve in his body as he sees your fingers squeeze around it.

"No!" He shouts. Screams it so loud it burns in his lungs. But deep down he knows it's not going to make any difference. "Nena, don't!"

The wind whips too loudly against his face. The sound of your heart pounding so painfully hard in his ear that it's deafening and he knows that sound will haunt him forever.

You're scared.

He sees your lips move, but he can't hear what you're saying.

But he's heard these words so many times before from your lips that he knows them by heart.

''I love you.''

An invisible force blasts away at him, it shatters through him through his limbs and torso into the very soft tissue of his stomach and makes his teeth shake. He's propelled upwards, unable to control his movements or defy the gravity that he's learned to navigate after all these years mid-air.

He holds on as hard as he can to your hand, but it doesn't matter. His fingers slip, his grip is lost.

You're falling through the sky.

Miguel doesn't remember much after that.

Somehow he makes it back onto the ground.

Somehow he finds you amongst the cracked dirty concrete.

Somehow, despite falling from over a 100 feet your body is still intact where it lies lifeless on the ground.

Your bones are broken though. Body limp and soft in his arms in a way that has never felt more wrong to him. His only consolation is that you're still warm in his arms, and he thinks that maybe if he just doesn't let go, if he holds you tightly pressed to him the way he is doing now, it'll remain that way forever.

The sky has cleared above. There are no cracks in the azure blue canvas.

This world is saved.

His world has ended.

~ Next Issue

Dedication & Credits: To @thirstworldproblemss who has been with me on this journey since chapter one without her enthusiasm and her companionship and friendship and listening to my wild ramblings about this story, I would never have set out to write this thing. She gave me so much joy in the process, she also gave me her time and her skills and brainy talent to help me process and brainstorm this into a shape that I was excited to share with you all! You also have her to thank for that devastating last line.

@guruan who has been a constant well of inspiration with her amazing art, her bright sense of humor and her sharing of theories of what's going to happen! You've made writing this story so much fun!

Author's note: Here we go guys, we've officially entered the final arc now. With only three chapters to go! I am so excited to share the remaining puzzle pieces with you all!

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderverse #oscar isaac #across the spiderverse #marvel #marvel mcu #spiderverse fanfiction #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x you

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tteokdoroki · 1 year

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*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— just for tonight, i don’t hate you + katsuki bakugou.

૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — when there’s a bounty over your head and a reward for your safe return to your soon-to-be husband and future king, touya todoroki… you should be mindful of who you fall for. you should pretend to hate the man who seeks the prize money you’d bring. and the dragon prince, katsuki bakugou, should probably do the same.

⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up, smut, angst, arguments, one-bed trope, enemies to lovers, love confessions, arranged marriages, fingering, marking, biting, scratching creampies, hair pulling, unprotected sex, orgasm denial, slight!infidelity, fantasy!au, fem!reader, dragon prince!bakugou.

⭑ words — 2.8K.

⭑ notes — happy valentine’s day my sweets!! here’s a precious little fic for you, a commission from the darling @peonies-and-teacakes and beta read by @yuki-no-akumu !! i hope you guys enjoy and remember that ily <3 mwah mwah !! - m.list ✩

“s-sir…i am so sorry.”

don’t.

“t-there’s been some kind of mistake!”

don’t you say it.

“unfortunately the room at our inn you’d requested for tonight has been double booked…”

don’t you dare say it.

“we can only offer you the alternative which is a single bed, again sir, i-i’m so sorry.”

it’s not the clerk’s fault, it’s a simple mistake that anyone could make at an inn located in one of the busiest travelling towns in all of Aethopia— but it shouldn’t have happened to katsuki bakugou. it’s the worst thing that could have ever happened to katsuki bakugou. “you gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” the dragon prince snarls, almost resembling the mystical creature acting as his tribe’s crest— teeth white, sharp and menacingly on display. “all this fuckin’ coin spent on a useless, shitty inn ‘nd you can’t even book the right room?”

the clerk shrinks back, visibly shaken as they hand over a set of room keys to the blonde. “s-so sorry! s-sir!” they add timidly, flinching as they clatter into bakugou’s palm and he snatches the metal away from them.

“sorry ain’t gonna cut it, what a waste of my coin! i ain’t ever comin’ back to this shithole.” he continues to snap, and with a swish of his red woven cape, bakugou’s gone— storming away and outside of the reception, filled with enough rage to fan the flames of a dragon’s fire. you’re waiting for him with his horse, tending to it as he steps into the cool outside. the forest trees sway with the prince’s arrival but don’t do anything to distract you from running your fingers to the snow-white coloured steed.

you’re beautiful and that angers katsuki. you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen in all of the moons he’s existed— you shine under the light of the silver crescent, as if glitter is speckled all over your skin or you’re covered in a layer of diamonds.

your smile as his horse chuffs and nudges you with its head is precious, more valuable than any gem found in this world’s greatest mines. your dress isn’t made out of the finest materials, but it fits perfectly around your sweet dips and curves— it’s pretty. you’re pretty. there’s something about you that makes a mess of katsuki’s pulse, that steals his breath away and he hates you for it.

you’re supposed to be an ordinary girl, you’re supposed to be just a pile of coin to him— a reward for returning you, prince touya of Ignis’ runaway bride. there was a hefty bounty hanging over your head for your safe return to his royal highness’ side, for you were to be the tool that helped to clean up prince touya’s act and get him prepared for kingship. again, you weren’t meant to be anything more to katsuki, in fact, if he had to he would force himself to despise you— you make him miserable, he has to remind himself that you’re just a prize. nothing more, nothing less.

despite the blonde’s plan to have you back in the hands of the todoroki family— he’s had his doubts. rumour has it that touya todoroki, better known to lesser folk as dabi, is an evil brute. one with little regard to the women he’s kept or invited up to his royal chambers. other whispers on the street have mentioned that you were a spoiled little village girl from within their kingdom, refusing the life the todoroki’s were to offer you.

that was another reason for bakugou to hate you— you were a brat that ran away because touya wouldn’t feed you with a silver spoon, because he was the first man in your existence to be unkind and you couldn’t find it in yourself to put up with it despite being set for the rest of your life.

katsuki bakugou of the dragon tribe had found you just outside of his territory— half dead, your clothes torn and a second away from being hunted by the mythical monsters that prowled them. you resented him, for what he did next. you had the audacity to be mad at the dragon prince for saving your life and nursing you back to health. you blame him for the miserable outcomes of your life and for having his heart set on returning you back to touya todoroki, blaming him for it all.

at the time, the pair of you had argued. bakugou had called you a stupids and naive little girl— who wouldn’t want to be married to a future king? you wouldn’t have a single thing to worry about if you did, your every need would be taken care of without you even asking. you wouldn’t have to kill for your next meal, worry about when or where you could sleep next, spend every day fighting for survival. clearly you both had different views on the world, and what should have been gratefulness turned into hatred.

bakugou had tied your wrists, dragged you kicking and screaming back on the route straight to the todoroki castle— reuniting you with your Prince Charming. so far, you’d made this journey hell, almost cost him fights and got him in trouble with clients or employers. you were embarrassing.

and in your eyes? katsuki was your fairytale villain. he was a selfish, ugly bastard who wouldn’t let you steal your freedom, all for some money. you hated bakugou with every fibre of your being and every ounce of your heart and he knew. he knew this, but that didn’t make it any easier to handle when you look at him like his every step scorches the earth.

scowl at him like you do now.

like he was the most awful man in the world. like he was touya. who he had heard from stories didn’t handle women in the best of ways.

“what, ya still mad at me, princess?” bakugou asks as he approaches you, the twigs snapping under his boots grabbing your attention.

before arriving at the inn, the dragon wielder had told you that you were a useless airhead— one that couldn’t survive on her own and needed a man to save her. you’d slapped him hard without hesitation and neither of you’d spoken until now. “of course i am, don’t ask stupid questions, you barbarian,” you spit harshly, turning back to the horse at hand. “did you get the room? i’m tired and sick of looking at your face.”

he almost flinches back to avoid being hit by your venomous words but instead retaliates. “i did ‘n yer stuck with me, sweetheart, there’s only one bed.”

“you’re kidding, right?” your eye twitches as you spin on your heel to face katsuki once more and the blonde braces himself for an onslaught of your slander. “oh! bakugou. you’re such an incompetent fool. you can’t even book an inn on your own, so you need a woman to do that for you?” you throw his words from earlier back into his face like an acid burn that’s been waiting underneath your tongue.

“i didn’t wanna be stuck with your ass anyways! quit complainin’!”

“well, if you insist on not being stuck with me, perhaps releasing me before we reach the todoroki’s is a good idea—“

“— fat chance, princess.” bakugou scoffs back. “not with the bounty over your head. puttin’ up with your shitty attitude will be fuckin’ worth dealin’ with until you’re back with ‘em.”

he doesn’t give you a chance to retort, heading back into the inn whether you follow him or not.

katsuki is glad that you don’t, at least not straight away— wanting to calm down the ache you’ve inflicted upon his hatred-blackened heart.

though he might hate you, katsuki can always tell when you’re crying.

around the same time every night and throughout your travels, your shoulders shake as sobs rack your body while you think he’s fast asleep. of course, the dragon prince feels bad— he’s practically handing you off to the devil in exchange for a lump of cash. you’ve been down on your luck and the blonde feels partially responsible for that.

rolling over to face you, bakugou watches with a deep frown as you keep your eyes on the wall opposite you— not daring to acknowledge him. “‘m sorry… about what i said,” he feels guilty but only just, unsure of his next words. “‘bout this touya thing… and all the men that have hurt you. i’m—” he takes a breath. “sorry about everything. i only treat you that way ‘cause i don’t want ya to end up lost like me…” he doesn’t want you to fall for him, to stay with him.

silence echoes between you both but katsuki can tell that you’ve calmed down from the way your body stops shaking and your hiccups quieten down. “you care about me, bakugou?” rolling over, the blonde finds himself lost in the sparkle of your galaxy eyes yet again— hating you for it, fighting down his love for you.

you’re close, way too close and everything beneath the sheets is hot. “shut up, princess.” bakugou whispers, not realising that the warmth of his breath is coasting over your lips wetly. before either of you know it, you’re kissing— mouths slotting against one another, tongues rolling over each other sloppily as you swap spit and pour undisclosed feelings into one another. his hands slip under your flimsy excuse for a night-gown, trailing up the good meat of your thighs, the soft curves of your waist and hips. you have him in shambles, with the way you gasp quietly at his thumbs swiping at the swell of your breasts— just brushing over your pebbling nipples. you coo and cry and he takes more from you, tugging on your lower lip with shining rows of pearly whites and licking into your mouth to swallow your whistle-tone moans.

“quiet, princess,” bakugou’s mouth is hot, blisteringly slow— his tongue leaving trails of clear, thick saliva along the planes of your skin. “gotta be quiet, baby, can’t wake anyone up, yeah?” the sharp edges of his teeth just graze your salt-licked flesh, barely nipping it. katsuki knows better, he can’t leave marks. he can’t return damaged goods to the soon-to-be king. to the touya todoroki. “so good, such a good girl.”

“o-oh! k-katsuki!” you stutter out, eyes rolling to the back of your skull and locking away the stars as the dragon prince’s hand fumbles between your hot and heavy bodies. he finds your clit, swollen and sticky— pulsating beneath rough fingertips. “p-please, i need you. please, katsuki. n-need–!” you sing your praises to the high heaves, the letters of his name rubbed into your pretty pussy as he plays with it between your slick, doughy thighs.

a single finger slips past your fluttering entrance, but he doesn’t dare let up on your pleasure nub— circling it diligently. “shut up, yeah?” the man slurs into your neck, spreading your pussy lips apart to finger you deeper, faster— losing his sanity listening to the sound of you squelch. “i hate you…r’member that. h-hate you— fuck…”

“hate you, s’much. o-oh, right there!” your own set of fingers curl in sandy blonde locks tightly pulling him back up to your face for a kiss. but his eyes, your eyes, they both speak forbidden and unspoken love. your other hand grasps at his throbbing cock, arousal spilling over your knuckles and straight from the tip. his chest rumbles in pleasure, hips rutting into your closed fist languidly before he swoops down to lure you into the forest of temptation, the haze of another uncoordinated, messy kiss.

you mewl into one another’s open mouths, swollen and cherry lips meshing together— this? whatever you’re doing together, a pile of sweaty limbs moving in sync with one another…it’s everything either of you have ever wanted. playing pretend, hating one another face to face and loving one another in secret. katsuki curls his fingers, pressing down on your g-spot and you run your thumb through the seedy slit of his cockhead…eager to please one another. to love one another.

“put it in, katsuki.” gasping but demanding, you call to him— hungry for more, to have his everything. he wants to, god he wants to. but what if he hurts you? what if you fall apart like fragile glass? what if touya—? you grab at the blonde’s chin, guiding his gaze up to yours and his thick girth to your clenching, unfilled hole. “just for tonight, one night. show me how you truly feel about me katsuki…make love to me.”

you’re giving him a chance, giving him this one last night to deflower the prettiest, most beautiful thing katsuki bakugou has ever held in his bare, monstrous hands. wrapping your legs around the slenderness of his waist, you lock your ankles at the small of his back and squeeze to draw him closer. his milky shaft pushes through your arousal soaked folds, clear strings of it clinging to every vein that decorates the length of him.

both of you shudder once he’s bottomed out inside the warmth of your velvety, silken walls. he’s as deep as he can go, stretching you over him with slow rolls of his hips and his balls heavy with cum, seated at the curve of your ass. “f-fuck, you’re tight, princess,” katsuki whines, wrapping his arms around your head to pin you to the bed beneath him. he fills you to the brim, brings tears to your eyes as he splits you apart and pieces you back together with every single thrust. your g-spot is a victim to endless ectasy given to you by his mushroomed tip as it rams against you, desperately.

rolling your hips up to match his pace, you swallow the saliva pooling on the palette of your tongue— skin buzzing with lust while you mark up the blonde’s back. you leave tiger-claw patterns across his tanned back, red and raw before mussing up his hair pulling him closer until either of you have room to breathe. his breath is ragged against the shell of your ear, thrusts rampant each time he plunges into your souse, salacious pussy.

katsuki drowns himself in you, and like an alcoholic reaching for another drink— he’s addicted. he groans pathetically when you bite him, kiss him and spit into his mouth until he’s babbling and brainless. you bite his shoulder to keep quiet but the bed creaks loudly enough to cover your harmonised moans and the sound of skin slapping on skin harshly.

“i love you,” you breathe weakly, body wracked with shakes when bakugou slips out of your cunt from how fast he's pounding you into the sheets, tied to you only by strings of slick.

he says it back, instantaneously while forcing himself back into your addictive heat, desperate to get you both to your highs. “i love you.” next he finds your clit again, using three fingers to tap at it so that you tremble cutely beneath him. “hold it, princess. hold your orgasm. p-promise it’ll feel good, kay?” the dragon prince pulls back only just, dragging his seedy tip along your insides and you whine at the loss of being so full. “promise me that when he’s fucking you, when touya makes you his bride a-and weds you, his pretty virgin bride…that you’ll think of me ‘n me alone.”

“i-i promise,” you murmur, playing with the baby hairs on the base of katsuki’s neck, looking up at him lovingly as you clench down on him at his claim— dripping sweet nectar down his balls.

only then does katsuki put his entire weight on you, jutting into you all at once, nearly breaking the bed as it hits the wall behind you over and over. his cock swells inside of you, close to bursting and cumming inside of you. with one, two, three more calculated thrusts you’re thrown over the edge— the dopamine high of your orgasm crashing over your brain while you squirt clear streams over his lower tummy and cock.

he’s right behind you, following the stream of your sweet essence that nearly forces him out of you. thick, hot ropes of cum paint your insides belonging to the man that you love, filling you up to the brim. katsuki collapses on top of you with one last kiss, your foreheads pressed together and the crude mix of your arousal leaking from your tiny hole, onto your shared sheets.

“i don’t…i don’t hate you,” you stutter once both of your breathing has evened out, teary eyed because you can’t say that you love him again. it’ll make it too real, neither of you can have that if you’re promised to touya and bakugou has promised to take you back to the ruthless future king.

“niether do i,” katsuki breathes back, wiping your eyes with the pad of his thumb, using a delicate touch.

he couldn’t help it, loving you but at least he got to…just for tonight.

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violet-eng · 4 months

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Kaeya! returns from a long trip and finds fem!bard!reader wearing his clothes at a festival | NSFW 🔞

Someone (@coreakin-sakarat) asked this, and I'm here for this kind of fantasies... just sometimes

Summary: The festivals (Christmas actually) are arriving to Mondstadt, and you (a bard) act like Kaeya in front of the kids. He returns from a journey and finds you wearing his clothes and acting like him (basically flirting), which awake a fantasy he'll definitely do with you.

Warnings: Content +18. Masturbation, fingering, p i v. Relationship established. Outdoor sex.

WC: 2k 🎨 by: @ArtLinXin on X

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Kaeya's departure had affected you deeply. While his absence had not been a source of unhappiness for you before, his absence this time meant a very unexpected change in your intrusion.

Captain Kaeya Alberich had left three weeks ago. Whatever his assignment was, Kaeya was taking up more of his time than usual, and that disturbed your psyche in unfortunate ways. The festivities were approaching at breakneck speed, something had happened last year that caused the days to pass more quickly. The festivities were just around the corner....

Every year, Kaeya had taken time out of his busy schedule to visit the Mondstadt Adventurers' Guild to tell the children about his adventures and answer any questions they might have. This year, however, he was still out of town, far from the villages, busy near the walls of Sumeru.

"Who will take care of the children this year?" Barbara asked, a sharp, desperate tone in her voice.

"I could help," you reassured the young woman.The idea had suddenly occurred to you, in your homeland you were called a buffoon and a clown... in Mondstadt you were called like Venti: a bard, and you were the joy of the children.

You had donned Kaeya's cloak, gloves, and cape, the design draped over your shoulder like a wing, giving you the appearance of the owner of the garments. The need to play his role had consumed you, as it had long ago when you sang songs about the Battle of the Archons or performed some anthology pretending to be a warrior of the past....

You were on the outskirts of Dragonspine, in the camp the Knights of Favonius had set up for the people. Various figures in the snow and amusing sculptures made by the children, bonfires and torches all around, as well as various colorful decorations, all in keeping with the festivities.

You chatted with the children about the adventures Kaeya had told you during the dinners around the fire in your shared home, you acted them out for them as if you were him, you swung your sword and even threw back the cloth of your cloak as Kaeya used to do.

You drank, fuck, you drank as if Kaeya had possessed your soul, and you joked with Diluc as if you were 'brothers'. With some people you even became seductive, charming and flirtatious. You couldn't help it, his personality had taken over you.

"Y/n?"

They called your name, and all your theatrics were destroyed with the mere utterance of your name from HIS lips, with HIS tone of voice....

"Kaeya?" you turned to him, who was analyzing you with crossed arms. He cocked his head and you did the same, he walked towards you, his steps precise and with a certain rhythm, you imitated him.

"It bothers me," he said....

"Does it bother you that I look so attractive with these facades?" you asked, putting your hands on your hips, he just nodded slowly, a ripple of new emotions running down his spine.

"Well, you should see me without them," you whispered, very sure of yourself.

Reality hit you like a bucket of cold water. You had never behaved like that, you were not shameless, you never made advances to your boyfriend, he took care of that in the relationship. Maybe that was why he had taken you by the hand and forced you to walk behind him, away from the festival, away from the people... away from any curious eyes that might be disturbed by the spectacle Kaeya wanted you to give him.

"I didn't think you were so bold," he said as he sank his face into your shoulder, inhaling the mixture of your scent and his, cursed goblet, this formula was driving him crazy.

He had carried you to one of his makeshift campsites and laid you on poorly arranged sheets while his hands slipped under your clothes.

"Mmh~" you sighed and tried to pull away his hands that were under your blouse, massaging your breasts.

"Cat's got your tongue?" he asked, a mischievous smile peeking through his lips, "I'll take this off...it's mine..." he said, taking off your coat.

"Does it bother you that your clothes look better on me than on you?" you blurted out suddenly, your voice calm, your face a clear poem.

"Brat," he whispered, kissing your chin, wet caresses from his lips and tongue, "I have to fuck this nasty behavior away from you."

"Try," fuck, what was wrong with you? Testing him like that wasn't your thing, you had a hard time getting rid of his philosophy.

"I want to hear you say it," he ordered, towering over you as he took off his clothes.

"Say what?" you asked.

"The salute you made," he said as he took off his gloves, the one on his left hand with his teeth.

"Enchantée," you said, mimicking his tone.

"You're so much like me," he let out a soft laugh, "I fucked you so well, so deeply, I literally left some of me in you, huh? Or maybe you missed me so much that you went crazy?"

"Kaeya don't say things like that, someone might hear you," you whispered.

"That's the y/n I know," he said as his hands moved down your hips, pulling your pants down to your ankles.

"Take off your panties, my dear," he said as he undid his boxers, leaving him completely naked.

You did as he commanded, remaining clothed from the top but uncovered from the waist down. Kaeya lay in front of you, propped up on one elbow, like a painting. Tan skin, lean muscles shaping his skin, sculpted torso and abdomen, masculine arms accentuated by his work. One of his legs was bent, the other relaxed, the throbbing member peeking over his thighs.

"Touch yourself," he commanded, and you looked at him, stunned.

"What?" was all that could come out of your mouth."You heard me," he reiterated, his voice firm and thick.

"Cl~ close up the tent tight," you said, the thought of showing off in front of him had dampened your center.

"I won't, I want the moonlight to come in, I want to watch you sink your fingers into you with my clothes on," he said.

You couldn't help it, the thought of him ordering you around, seeing himself exposed in front of you, eager to see you fumble with his own clothes while his cock throbbed in anticipation of your performance to satisfy his fantasy.You propped yourself up on your elbows and spread your knees, your fingers sliding delicately under your belly, tracing your groin and reaching the oasis between your thighs.

"Eyes on me," he said, "eyes on me, all the time."

You couldn't, of course not, you weren't going to masturbate in front of him, looking at his face, that beautiful tanned face framed by blue curls. But you couldn't avoid giving in to your instincts, the shameful desire to feel yourself prey to him.

Without taking your eyes off him, you slipped your fingers between your folds, your fingers immediately soaking in your wetness, the glistening of your juices reflected in the bright moonlight peeking out of the tent where you both surrendered to your most painful fantasies.You parted your folds and captured your throbbing clit with your finger. You shuddered at the contact and let out a barely audible moan.

"I want to hear you," he declared, who had remained motionless, his pose the same, "don't limit yourself."

An embarrassed moan escaped your lips, the movements of your fingers were precise, pressing every fiber of your nervous bulge, tearing at your belly with pleasure, wrenching the most pitiful expressions from your face. The rhythm increased, the sound of your fluids sloshing against your fingers in time with your lustful gasps.Your other hand slipped into your entrance, your fingers penetrating your rubbery walls, the sound of wetness filling Kaeya's ears as he began to take care of his cock.He clenched his member in a fist and slid his hand in time with your fingers, both masturbating in sync.

The red head of his cock sought relief, pre-cum leaking from the tip, Kaeya's muscles tensing from the movement.

"Just like that, pretty," he gasped, the movement of his hand mimicking the rhythm of yours. His other hand in a fist, clutching at nothing, prey to the pleasure he took in seeing you like that, open to him.

"Kaeya~" his name slipped from your lips in an awkward moan, pain turning to pleasure, shame turning to lust.

"Yes y/n, say my name," he added, throwing his head back, his fist clutching his cock as if it was your pussy, beads of sweat running down his forehead and neck. He was desperate, he was losing his mind….

"Ka… Kaeya… please… please," you begged between sobs, moans caught in your throat, your sex throbbing for more than just your fingers.

"Ask me for whatever you want, y/n," he said, sitting down in front of you, closer, never stopping his erotic movement.

"You know what I want," you said, your fingers still in your sex, your hands caressing his.

"I want to hear you," he said, resting his forehead against yours, your breaths mingling, desperate sighs meeting in a desperate dance.

"Please, y/n. I can't help you if you don't tell me clearly," Kaeya added, his chest rising and falling, breath escaping his lips.

Your noses brushed together, your eyes closed, your forehead furrowed… you didn't want to say it, it was embarrassing, but you needed it, you needed it now more than ever.

"Help me cum," you blurted out the sentence without remorse, knowing that he would never deny you an orgasm.

In one quick move, as quick as the situation and your clouded minds allowed, Kaeya took your hand and smothered his cock with it as his fingers slid into your tight hot hole in one deep slice.

"Agh~" you moaned as your walls sucked in his digits, your chin pressed to your chest, your shoulders tense, Kaeya's chin nestled in your neck, the breath of his moans in your ear.

"You missed me," he whispered, the warmth of his tone sending electric waves through your body.

He was right, you had longed for him these past weeks, it was almost sickening the need you had for him, and your body expressed that longing to be penetrated by his long, smooth fingers through volatile spasms.

Your hand didn't close around his thick cock, your fingers weren't long enough to do it, and that enraptured him. Resting his hand on the floor next to your hip, Kaeya leaned further into you, sinking his fingers deeper into your little pussy, parting the digits inside you, widening you for him.

"That… that… feels so… good," your words were a swirl of emotions, soft spasms between the lunges of his fingers.

You clung to him with one arm, digging your nails into his defined back, while your other hand continued its work on his cock, rubbing heavenly.

Your pussy clung even tighter to his fingers, and Kaeya knew what that meant….

"Cum on my fingers, y/n, I need you to come," he said, sounding more like a plea than a command.

"Kaeya~" your nails, marking his flesh under your nails, leaving crimson marks on his skin as he fingered that sensitive spot in your walls. You hadn't had a squirt in months, and this single movement was enough to get one.

Kaeya wrenched a shuddering orgasm from you, you screamed as you seemed to convulse as your volatile walls leaked fluid onto your lover's fingers. He held your head as you climaxed, your hand no longer on his cock, but on his thigh covered in his seed. The scene of you coming had brought him to his limit as well.

The scent of pine needles hung in the air, enveloping Kaeya and you in a cocoon of nature's embrace. Your hearts beat in unison, echoing the rhythmic cadence of your intertwined bodies.

The fire crackled softly outside the tent, casting dancing shadows on the canvas walls. Inside, the dim light illuminated your passion, illuminating the raw, visceral connection between you.

Kaeya stared at your glowing skin, your eyes locked with his as your bodies pressed tightly together.

You felt the heat of his breath against your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

"Y/n," he whispered hoarsely, as if evoking a memory, his voice barely audible over the low whisper of the wind outside.

His lips curved into a gentle smile, his fingers tracing delicate patterns along your back.

"It feels like we've been apart forever."

He kissed you softly, the taste of your mouth making him even more intoxicated.

His hands roamed your body, feeling every curve and valley, every muscle and sinew. You responded with enthusiasm, your hands exploring his form with equal fervor. Your passion grew more intense, the fire between you threatening to consume you completely.

As he stripped you of the last of your clothes, you delighted in looking at each other, naked and vulnerable. Kaeya admired the way your breasts bounced gently with each breath, your nipples erect and inviting.

He leaned down and kissed you gently before taking one nipple between his lips and sucking gently until you moaned in pleasure.

His hand moved between your legs, fingers finding your wetness, sliding inside you, teasing your clit. You arched your back, pressing against him, digging your nails into his skin.

"I want you," you whispered huskily, your voice barely audible over the sounds of your passion. "Now."

Kaeya didn't need to be told twice; he positioned himself at your entrance and entered you, slowly at first, then faster, harder.

Your cries filled the small space around you, echoing off the tent walls like a symphony of pleasure. Kaeya embraced you, feeling your heart racing wildly beneath his fingers as he sank deeper into you. Each thrust sent waves of ecstasy through your body, making you arch your back and moan loudly.

"Fuck~" you cried out, meeting each of your movements with one of his.

Your bodies moved together as if in choreography, perfectly in tune with each other's desires. You could feel his muscles tense around you, drawing him deeper into your depths.

"You feel so good," you gasped, your voice strained from the effort.

Your hands gripped Kaeya's shoulders, your nails digging into his flesh just enough to remind you how much you wanted him.

You arched your back, pressing even harder against him, wanting more of him inside you.

"I want you too," Kaeya moaned, his body shaking with desire. His mouth found yours again, kissing it passionately, sucking greedily at your lips. His fingers dug into your hips, pulling you closer to him, pressing even harder against you.

Your bodies were now slick with sweat, your skin glistening in the dim light of the tent. You moaned softly, your voice a gentle purr against Kaeya's ear.

"Please, Kaeya, don't stop," you whispered, your words barely penetrating the thick air between you. You felt his muscles tense under your fingers, an answer to your pleas.

He buried his face in your neck as he kissed you softly. You knew what he was thinking: he was desperate, eager to please you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, holding him tight as he thrust deep into you.

Your orgasm exploded between the two of you, fragments of greed and lust, of ambition for your bodies, of belonging to each other.

He kissed you as if your soul was escaping through your lips, as if he wanted to own every last fragment of your being. He wrapped you in an embrace, warmth traveling between the two of you, traces of your orgasm.

"I love you," Kaeya whispered, very much like him after such a round.

"Don't go away again, please," you begged, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"If I leave for too long, I promise to take you with me," he whispered, leaving a kiss on your cheek and another on your chin. A smile on your neck was the last thing you felt before you fell asleep. ….

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Omg girl I hope you liked it. I tried. I swear you.

Merry Christmas to you all btw!

Next post will be about Alhaitham bc sir... those arms are driving me crazy. As you can see I haven't slept well.

#kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich #kaeya smut #kaeya x you #kaeya x y/n #kaeya genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact #genshin

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peaches2217 · 2 months

Note

Given it’s like 2 degrees where I live: 🥶!

🥶 - Cold

First Snow

Inspired by this piece by the exceptional @akiiame-blog!

~~~

Gonnnng! Gonnnng! Gonnnng!

Mario’s stomach dropped into his feet hard enough to make him stumble. The clock in Toad Town’s central square rang the hour out, ten resounding, musical gongs that rattled his very bones. They pushed him to sprint faster once he recovered his footing, and though the frigid air burned his throat and lungs like fire, he forged ahead with unprecedented determination.

Of all days to get distracted by snowfall! Now he would have no choice but to take the pipes at the base of Castle Hill. They would shave valuable minutes off of his commute, but the shortcut wasn’t particularly fun, being sized to accommodate creatures who reached three feet tall at the tallest.

Though the closer to the castle he drew, the more he saw that he was hardly the only one who’d fallen victim to the snow’s charm. Toads spilled from their homes and places of business and even from the schools, filling the streets (and forcing Mario to dodge and leap over them at every turn) to make snowtoads and pelt one another with snowballs and share warm drinks with their friends. That was his out, he decided quickly, and he practiced his wording as he flew through the pipes. You know I’m never late, Princess, please forgive me! I’ve never seen the town so crowded this early. It wasn’t a lie, after all.

Surprisingly, the castle grounds looked much the same as the town itself did. Straight out of the final warp pipe, Mario was met with a flurry of merriment, everyone from visiting families to familiar staff and groundskeepers mingling about, frolicking and playing or otherwise watching their children frolic and play.

And straight ahead, on the bridge gapping the frozen moat, a form in all shades of gold and pink towered over those Toads. She caught Mario’s eyes as soon as he looked her way, and suddenly he felt far warmer than an extensive run could ever make him feel.

“Mario!” Peach’s cheery voice carried with ease as they began in one another’s directions. A luxurious pale pink cape fluttered behind her as she approached, tied in the front with a white bow to which her favorite brooch was fastened. Beneath it, a dress that looked nigh identical to her favorite day-to-day dress, but with long sleeves hidden beneath wool-trimmed gloves.

Mario gulped. Somehow, she was always more beautiful than the last time he’d seen her.

But the warm glow of her presence chilled as they reached one another, and he was forced to acknowledge that he had let her down. He knew his tardiness bothered him far more than it would bother her; admittedly, he was a bit miffed (but undoubtedly grateful) at how easily she overlooked his every fault. Still, he would be remiss to not hold himself accountable. Pulling his cap from his head, he drew in a deep breath—

“Please forgive me.” The words came not from his lips, but from Peach’s.

“...Princess?”

“I had hoped my letter would reach you before you left home,” she continued, casting her eyes aside, her smile turning regretful. “The Public Council will be postponed to next week, in accordance with the First Snow. I’m truly sorry to drag you out here on such a dreary day…”

Mario’s first response was relief. He hadn’t let his beloved Princess down after all! And as much pride as he took in being Peach’s personal guard, attending the monthly Public Council with her was perhaps his least favorite obligation. Standing still and not offering his own opinions as Counciltoads and townsfolk alike shouted over each other about every relevant social and political talking point — for three hours — was a challenge that tired even him. Letting out an exaggerated Phew! and wiping not-so-imaginary sweat from his brow, he slapped his cap back over his hair, and this elicited a small chuckle from Peach.

His second response: confusion.

“First Snow?” Glancing briefly away, he took in the clusters of Toads enjoying the winter scenery once more, and this time he recognized Councilmembers and Chairholders and, well, everyone who usually spent their work days inside the castle walls. And here they were, outside, having themselves a jolly old time. “So today’s like a holiday?”

A matching confusion flickered across Peach’s features. “Yes, of course. You’re aware of…” And just as suddenly, her eyes went wide, and she pressed a palm to her reddening cheek. “No, you’re not aware, are you? I don’t think you were here the last time it snowed!”

Mario couldn’t help but beam at her embarrassed gesture. Even he hadn’t realized it at first, looking out his frosty window that morning. This was only his second winter in the Mushroom Kingdom, and last winter brought nothing but barren trees and the occasional patch of ice, nothing resembling the powdery luster that blanketed everything in sight today.

That Toad Town hadn’t always been his home became easier to forget with each passing day. He wondered, with a bristle of excitement he couldn’t quite put a name to, if Peach had momentarily forgotten as well.

“Hey,” he said, rocking on his heels, “since I’m already here, maybe you could… explain it all to me? I’m always up for learning new things about the MK! And clearly I’ve still got a lot to learn, yeah?”

Bold of him, perhaps, trying to petition royalty to give him their free time. Surely there were thousands of other tasks Peach would have been better off seeing to. But some nagging feeling in his stomach told Mario that she would much rather spend the morning with him than tending to dreary administrative duties, and he would sooner fulfill that desire and his own desire to be at her side for as long as possible than turn around and head back home.

Peach blinked, and in that fraction of a second he swore her face lit up. But if it did, she got it under control quickly, leaving him with nothing more than a gentle smile and the fluttery feeling that he had made the right call.

With a gesture of her head, she turned gracefully and began towards the castle gardens, and he dutifully fell into step beside her.

Oh yeah. This was way better than having to stand through Public Council.

~~~

“Our kingdom boasts an idyllic, seasonable climate all year long, as you’ve no doubt noticed. Our summers are never too hot, and our winters are never too cold. That’s why the Mushroom Kingdom is the world’s foremost leader in power-up exports: this is among the few places where they can flourish in the wild year-round.”

Mario would never cease to marvel at Peach’s talent for making the mundane sound magical. She clasped her hands in front of her as she spoke, her brilliant bluebird eyes sparkling as she prattled off what should have been mildly interesting but otherwise unremarkable facts. Yet he was unable to tear his gaze from her face, and her every word stirred a powerful curiosity within him, her love for her kingdom radiating so strongly outward that he felt it just as deeply.

Tour Guide Mode, he had affectionately dubbed it. Peach had agreed that, should the whole “leader of a nation” position ever fall through, she would make a pretty good tour guide.

“That is to say,” she continued, looking back over to him, “freezes such as this only happen once every few years. For that reason, the first snow after a long stretch of more traditional weather is always declared a holiday.”

Mario chuckled dryly. “That would’ve been nice growing up. Me and Luigi, our mamma would have to drag us to school by the ear when it snowed. And even then, we’d spend all day staring out the window and daydreaming about being out there instead of cooped up inside.”

Peach reached out absently as they passed another snow-capped shrub, its frozen leaves rustling beneath her fingers. “Did it snow often in Brooklyn?”

“Pretty often, yeah. At least around this time of year.”

“Oh, how wonderful! I would love to see it for myself.” The fondness in Peach’s eyes grew more resplendent still, and Mario could feel himself blossoming beneath it, like a flower opening its blooms to the sunlight. A laugh bubbled in his chest.

“I promise you didn’t miss out on much, Princess. Brooklyn snow was always sludgy and gray. Kinda depressing, come to think of it.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah.” At the next shrubbery, he blindly mirrored her actions, sweeping a pile of loosely-packed snow to the ground. “That’s why I had to book it this morning! We saw all this fluffy clean snow and ended up chasing each other around in our pajamas. We were neck-deep in the most intense snowball fight the Mushroom Kingdom’s ever seen when I realized what time it was.”

Peach giggled at this information, a gentle teeheehee that released tiny clouds of vapor into the air before her. “What fun! I’ve always wanted to be part of a snowball fight.”

Mario was more than prepared to continue, to draw more giggles from her with descriptions of two grown men all rosy-cheeked and dusted in snowflakes with icicles freezing from their nostrils — but he stumbled at her words.

“...You’ve never been in a snowball fight?”

Peach was only two steps ahead of him when she registered his absence, and she turned to face him where he’d frozen, her delighted grin growing a touch dour.

“Growing up, I was… encouraged to pour my energy into more productive pursuits,” she confessed. As Mario caught up, she steepled her fingers together and cast her gaze to the dense gray sky above them. “Toadsworth thought it unbecoming to dirty my dresses in the name of any game without clear rules. Better something more clear-cut like tennis or golf, he’d say. Keep the senses sharp.”

Her smile warmed once more in nostalgia, yet as she directed it towards him, he saw the slightest gloom beneath that glow. “There weren’t any children my age to rope into a good snowball fight, anyway. I’m happy to live vicariously through others! Oh, but enough of this gloomy tangent. Won’t you tell me more about the snow in Brooklyn? Come, come.”

Though as she resumed their walk, Mario remained where he was. The melancholy in her gaze… no. It was foolish, he tried to reason, thinking that someone so refined as Peach might be genuinely saddened by such a silly topic. But the heaviness that lingered in his heart implored him to give the thought consideration — and, above all, to do something about it.

Peach was his Princess, his charge in many respects, beautiful and composed and perfect… but she was still human. She was just as likely to long for life’s little pleasures as he was. And above all…

“You needn’t be so formal with me, you know,” she had told him only a few months earlier. “You are my friend.”

At the time, Mario had agreed, but was far too hesitant to accept her invitation. Now? For a few blissful and dangerous moments, he was finally able to internalize those words.

He was her friend, and she was his in return, his closest and most cherished friend. He watched her back as she strode forward, his knees bending and his hands scooping and shaping on their own. Just as he was charged to protect her, he felt compelled to humor and address and banish whatever childish sadness lingered within her. And honestly, what sort of friend would he be if let her miss out on such a commonplace tradition?

The notion that launching a projectile directly at a ruling monarch’s head was probably a bad idea didn’t hit him until said projectile left his hand, and by then, it was too late.

Peach squeaked on impact, nearly entangling herself in her own cape as she whipped around to face her attacker. And what could Mario do? He certainly couldn’t look away, not when she stared at him with such unbridled shock, a halo of snow still clinging to her hair. Color rose into her cheeks, but he couldn’t interpret the whirlwind of emotions that flickered across her face, and something told him he didn’t want to.

Oh, he’d done it. He’d really messed up.

“I’m— I’m so sorry!” What was he supposed to do now? Bow? Bowing sounded right. “That was improper,” he uttered sheepishly, bracing a fist over his sternum and bending at the waist and squeezing his eyes shut as if he could undo what he’d done if only he couldn’t see it. “I should— that’s not… I-I should be acting like—”

“Mario.”

Mario looked up immediately at the utterance of his name — and was promptly blinded by a flash of white.

He sputtered and swiped at his face, shocked into newfound alertness by the icy cold against his skin, and the most wonderful sound rang in his ears all the while: laughter. Peach’s laughter, tinkling and light. Shaking his head to clear the snow that still clung to his bangs and eyebrows and mustache (his cap falling to the ground in the process), he found, when his vision cleared, that she was giggling into her left hand, brushing the right against her skirt.

She had— she actually—

“Yeah,” Mario found himself saying before his brain caught up with him, “yeah, I deserved that.”

The color that flooded Peach’s face settled into a dusty pink, and as she closed the gap between them, Mario felt his own skin undergo a similar transformation. Some mix of relief and giddiness and the usual Peach-induced fluster kept him stuck where he stood, unable to do anything but blush and smile nervously.

“Don’t dish out anything you can’t handle being served in return.” Peach stooped elegantly, brushing the snow from Mario’s fallen cap before setting it back on his head. “Or, put simply: it’s on.”

“W-what—?”

Before the ringing in his ears cleared (and, indeed, before he even realized his ears were ringing), Peach fled from him, hiking her skirts and rushing ahead a good few meters before stooping once more to gather snow between her palms, and only then did Mario’s brain catch up with the rest of his body.

He threw himself to his knees in the knick of time, Peach’s second snowball zipping overhead. Taking advantage of his stupor, huh? Once more pulling his cap into place, a wicked grin spread across Mario’s face.

“Ah! Not so fast, Princess!” he called, fumbling hands forming a rushed retaliation. “You should know I’m a battle-hardened snowball fight warrior!”

The snowball he launched barely missed its target; Peach squeaked again, jumping clear of the attack, and then she was preparing her counterattack the moment her feet returned to the ground.

“Well, I’m far scarier than any warrior!” she called back. “I’m a politician!”

Thud! The attack hit Mario square in the left shoulder, and he cried in mock-pain, launching himself to his feet to make a show of stumbling around before jumping back into the action. And that was how the Princess of the Mushroom Kingdom and her guard spent the next twenty minutes: circling one another, flinging fistfuls of snow to and fro, and filling the chilled air with harmonious laughter.

~~~

The fireplace in Peach’s drawing room was… excessive, put one way, at least ten feet wide and six feet tall. Mario couldn’t help but keep a wary eye on it as he sipped his coffee. One gust of air and that fire would flash over and burn the whole castle down, he was certain of it.

“I suppose I’ll be getting an earful from Toadsworth tonight,” Peach sighed beside him. Mario chuckled regretfully; the old steward had immediately coaxed them inside upon crashing their game in progress, tutting in disapproval at their unkempt appearances and rambling on about the colds they would catch unless they settled in and warmed their bones immediately, “and I shouldn’t have to tell you that falling ill is the last thing we need for you, Princess.”

Even so, taking his leave after delivering their hot cocoa and black coffee some ten minutes later, Mario knew for a fact that he’d seen Toadsworth smile. An old and tired smile, with some odd nuance behind it that he couldn’t name, but a smile nonetheless.

“Just tell him I challenged your pride and it was all my fault,” he offered in the present moment. Then, with a wink, he joked: “He knows I’m a bad influence.”

“Yes, that’s just what I want: two of my favorite people butting heads for my sake.” Peach smiled over her cocoa in good humor, and Mario did his best to smile back just as evenly, but hearing her affections spoken so plainly (if indirectly) sent his heart into a stutter that made his hands feel suddenly weak. He tightened his grip on the mug in his grasp and swallowed thickly.

But if he intended to respond, the words died quickly on his tongue. The oversized fire illuminated Peach’s disheveled silhouette, frazzled strands sticking out all over her head, her bangs still slicked down with sweat, a downy blanket draped over her shoulders and obscuring her wrinkled and ever-so-slightly stained dress. But seated on the chase just inches away from him, she looked… happy. She hummed as she drank her cocoa, and the flames before them danced in her eyes, orange and red against cool blue, staggering in their brilliance yet serene all the same.

To see her so content wasn’t a surprise, not really. But something about the sight still left Mario short of breath.

Only when her gaze shifted towards him did he realize he was staring, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to look away. There was… there was love in her eyes, he realized not for the first time, a love she expressed towards him and him alone.

Though his heart could certainly hope, Mario knew deep down, or at least convinced himself he knew, that the love she felt for him wasn’t the same love he felt for her. But that made it no less sacred to him, and he knew he’d cherish her love in whatever form it took until the day he departed the earth.

Even so, an all too familiar ache seeped into his chest at the thought, more biting than any chill could ever be. Suddenly, the affection she graced him with felt unbearable. He looked back at the fireplace with an uneasy sigh.

“Mario?” He could hear her concern, soft but prodding, and Mario took the opportunity to finish his coffee and recompose himself. The bitterness of his drink dulled the unwelcome bitterness within him well enough for now.

“Honestly,” he said at last, staring down into his empty mug, “days like today… I wish they’d never end.”

Peach didn’t respond, not right away, and Mario worried at first that his melancholy smile might look a touch too melancholy. But finally she spoke, gentle and quiet and maybe just a bit sad: “I wish so too.”

#super mario bros #smb #mario #princess peach #mario x peach #mareach #peaches' fancy fics #peaches’ prodigious prompts #the comic that inspired this is like. THE representation of their mutual pining phase for me #there's an attempt at formality but at the end of the day they just cherish each other and want to make fun memories together #they mean everything to me your honor #sneaky link to a past fic in here too~

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misguidedasgardian · 11 months

Text

The Winter Sun (23)

23. Harrenhal

MASTERLIST

Summary: You can’t see a way out

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Fem!Targaryen Reader

Warnings: Cursing, medieval and asoiaf customs, AGE GAP, Cregan is 12 years OLDER than reader), arranged marriage, incest, hinted non-con, involuntary imprisonment, non con adultery, pregnancy, a little injury involving a knife, and blood, death of a character, a VERY GORY ONE, sorry for that I have never written anything like it, war and all that comes with it, might miss some warnings

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 3 k

Notes: this came sooner than I even expected... and I have to warn... we are coming close to an end! I hope to drag it out to make it even 30 chapters... but no promises BUT I already have in mind a couple of Epilogues about their lives and the ones of their babies! hehe anyways... here we go

Aemond regretted it

As he gazed at you, he regretted telling you he had murdered Cregan, showing you his burnt cloak he find in the remains of the battlefield

You had become catatonic, dead but breathing, you refused to eat, to speak, you were barely breathing, laying on the bed, it got so bad he released your chains, but you didn’t even try to stand, or run away, you just laid there.

The maids revealed to him you did eat at night when he wasn’t there, that you cried when you believed nobody could hear you

You were still there, but when he was near, you wear dead

Since the first time he had you, he spent two whole weeks making you his, then he flew to the battlefield and completely destroyed the Winterwolves, half of the army, but he took out Cregan, making them dissolve in the Riverlands.

He returned, you knew something was… different, he didn’t see you in days, hoping to erase all trace of battle from himself, and when he was “clean”, he had returned to you, he spend a month with you. But no matter how many times he had you, and how excited he was that your blood moon haden’t come yet, you wouldn’t let yourself go, you wouldn’t surrender fully to him, and he grew exasperated

So as the received word that the old cunt had taken King’s Landing and he was here, with a reluctant woman - since now you were unknowingly a widow he believed he could marry you once you were with child-.

He lost it

He threw it in your face that as soon as he recuperated King’s Landing, you were going to marry. “That mutt” was well dead and burnt, turned to dust under Vhagar’s flames and he had his cape to prove it.

That is when he lost you even though you were right there

Another month has gone by, his army went to surround King’s Landing, his younger brother Daeron was winning on every town that was unlucky enough to swear to the blacks

Aemond sighed when he planned on what to do with you, when he felt arms around his shoulders

“My love”, Alys whispered in his ears, “I’m here, please”, he released himself from her grasp, and she whine, tired of this, tired of your looming presence in the castle, in her home, “she doesn't want you”, he bit out

“She will”, he said softly, you knew you were a mother, and once he got you pregnant, he believed you were going to react again, become alive, with some meaning, you still had Rickon, Winterfell was still intact, once you had another pup in your belly you were going to recuperate, he was sure of it

“You still have one eye and yet you are so blind”, she said meanly, “I will have your children”, she said, convinced

“Its her”, he said bitterly, and Alys only whined, her dark heart only growing darker, her jealousy burning her like dragon fire

Maybe rejecting Alys like that was a mistake, but in Aemond’s mind, she was loyal to him, no matter what, he had promised her a life in King’s landing as her mistress, and she had gladly accepted, he was not going to push her away, that was the price, and yet… he somewhat feared her

But his mind was occupied and concerned with you at the moment, no one else

He had time with you, he held you sometimes at night, and you did curled your arms around him, but he believe it was only because he was the only one there and you were only a human, going through a crippling grief and he was the only source of human warmth and interaction

Things changed one day when he realized something… he placed his hand on your belly, and there it was… A small bump

He almost cried

“It’s not yours”, you whined, “It’s Cregan’s”, you spitted out, that is the first time you spoke in a month and your voice sounded like a broken bagpipe. Aemond removed his hand like it burned him, he had a troubled face, but he quickly changed it with a wicked grin

“Are you sure about that?”, he asked wickedly, so proud of himself, “you have been here almost three months”

You whined burying your face on the pillow, not even you were convinced, but you had to be, you placed your hand on your belly, it was too soon to be Aemond’s, but also, you haven't been eating much either… it was possible

Aemond left you room smiling so widely, he was so, so happy, it had happened so quickly he couldn’t believe, he was certain it was his, of course, he was of the blood of the dragon just like you, so it was obvious to him it was a strong little dragon growing in your belly.

And his happiness was not missed by Alys, as she watched from the shadows Aemond leaving your room.

She had to get you out of the way, but if she did, Aemond was never going to forgive her, no, it was not his fault, it was yours, you needed to suffer.

And she could already tell, that the best way to get to you, was trough your loved ones

But she wasn’t strong enough to go after Rickon, not without help…

. . .

Cregan woke up hours later, because he couldn’t longer breathe, he had to push his way out of a pile of what it used to be humans, now heavy piles of ashes

He was being pulled by someone, and when he could open his eyes he saw Lord Roderik, he could see he tears in his eyes, he had lost his son, Jon used his own body to cover Cregan’s from the flames, dying instantly

“Roderik”, he whined, as surviving soldiers help him, “Dragonstone”, he managed to say, “Daemon”, before he was lost again to unconsciousness

Daemon and his dragon was the only one who could go head to toe with Vhagar

Luckily for Cregan, he had loyal men with him, who in his state, an arm burned and barely conscious, they took him east, towards the sea, recuperating on the road

Which was long, and hard, the men were broken, half his numbers had been slain and burned, but that didn’t deter them from attacking all small forces of the greens they encountered as they made their way to the crownlands

They didn’t know the Blacks had taken King’s Landing, but they released the northeast part of the crownlands, as they were making their way to a safe port that could take them to Dragonstone, or Driftmark

And they spread the rumors, that Lord Cregan Stark was dead, they couldn't have the greens realizing they had failed, they thought, for it was a dead sentence on all of them

So the word spread like wildfire, that Cregan Stark was dead and his broken army was set for vengeance , letting themselves loose in the Crownlands

It was in the middle of the night in which she decided to put her plan in motion, he sneaked into your chambers, when she knew Aemond wasn't there

A sharp knife in her hand, you awakened only when your fac started to burn, you didn’t know what happened, you only woke up with a burn on your cheek and a wet face, whining. You swear you could see two green eyes looking down at you, like those of a cat, as just as quickly as they came, they vanished, and soon you were alone again

You managed to sit on the bed and took your hand to your cheek, the fire lit in the room let you know it was blood, you ran out of your room to the hallway, which was lit up by torches, and some guards were there, shocked to see your face all bloodied

It was only a small cut in your right cheek, but it was bleeding profusely

Of course one of them went to fetch Aemond and the maester, in that order, and the other help you clean the wound, to see the extent of the damage

You were calm, Aemond wasn’t as much as he paced furiously over the room as the old maester with shaky hands cleaned your wound and gave it a couple of stitches to help it close

You didn’t even felt the needle coming in and out of your skin, you swear you couldn’t feel anything, you only breathed evenly as you placed your hand on your belly, soothing yourself, Aemond stopped his pacing to look at you, worried, but smiling softly when he saw your hand.

You were a good mother, even if you despised him, you were going to be so good with all the children he was going to give to you

But Alys had everything she needed

It was true, babies were very difficult to bewitch, especially yours, having both Valyrian and the first men’s blood pumping through his veins, protected by an ancient energy.

But with the help of your blood, the blood of the own mother of the child, she could become stronger, enough to finish the job she wanted to do.

she was careful with not dropping the precious liquid until she reached her own chambers, in there, everything was ready, the herbs, a small sacrifice, and the fire always lit up, ready for anything she might want or need to see

She started whispered as soon as she was in front of the fire, the flames immediately dancing at her command, she top a small vial of wild fire and threw it inside the fireplace, the flames immediately acquiring a neon green color, and a roaring sound could be heard in the room, but only for her ears

She repeated what Aemond had seen, throwing herbs in the fire and chanting in a language that maester believed to be dead. And soon… in her eyes, it could be seen the far North, the already green grass surrounding the castle of Winterfell, but still the valleys filled with snow, still not melting away despite already being in spring

With further concentration, she came in closer, she could feel the cold air, the crisp wind of the North. Soon, she went through the huge gates of the first wall, then through the drawbridge and then by the next one.

She was not impressed by the castle that had been standing for 8.000 years, instead, she went straight for the huge wooden doors leading to the main castle, across the courtyard, she could see everything, hear everything, and yet, she was on a mission.

The Winterfell corridors and rooms could be a bit like a maze to the unknown person walking through them, but she had done this before, at Aemond’s bidding, she had already done the work of walking all through this walls and passages

She had already seen where the Lord of Winterfell’s rooms where

And that is where she went

The shadow walked slowly through the stone corridors, by each step she gained strength, she gained material to be able to influence her surroundings, but at this time of night, the castle was almost empty, the sleepy soldiers unaware of the danger.

The monstrous shadow climbed the last set of stairs towards the main corridor where your rooms were, where Sara’s and baby Rickon’s rooms were.

She went first to yours, but it was empty and cold, the baby was not there, so she turned around and back at the hallway, and then walked slowly towards the second bedroom, a smaller room.

The corridor of the main chambers were mostly empty, the main branch of the Stark family consisted in only Cregan, Sara, you and baby Rickon, Alys had to hold in her bitter laugh, for as you naively believed you were going to fill those rooms with children of your own

You will never be able to do that…

her shadowy hand, deformed with big claws, opened the wooden door slowly, she could almost taste the infant’s blood.

There he was, sleeping peacefully on his wooden cradle, covered in furs, the fire lit up, but barely, she had to be quick or she could be interrupted by some made or guard ready to set the fire up again.

BUt back in Harrenhal, Alys threw more herbs, and then, with her finger, gathered your blood from the blade and let its drops fall into the flames.

They changed from a green color, to a deep red, and then black flames, this was it, the darkest level of magic she was ever going to be able to produce, or manifest

The shadow now became flesh, dust became blood, and to the eyes of the skeptical, Alys Rivers materialized in the room of the heir of winterfell, of Rickon Stark

The same knife that had your blood, appeared in her hand, and she smiled viciously when the baby cooed in his sleep

His dark hair disgusted her, she was disgusted by you, not being able to have a child with silvery locks like your own, she smiled bitterly…

She was not cruel, one stab to the heart will be enough, quick and easy, he was not going to suffer… much…

But as she raised the knife above the crib… a growl interrupted her, she turned quickly to the side, scared out of her mind, but she sighed, relieved, when the only things she saw was a little pup

“SHUT UP!”, she commanded in a whisper, but the pup kept growling at her, he even barked, and when he did, she kicked the poor pup, who flied a couple of feet into the ground, in whimpers

It was a miracle that Rickon didn’t wake

“I hate animals”, she said viciously, turning back to the crib.

But as she raised the knife, she was interrupted again, by a deep, more vicious growl, she turned towards the door and the only thing she could she was two huge golden eyes staring at her, taller than her, almost the size of the door

By the side of the beat, appeared Sara

“Autumn…”, she called, “attack”

The huge wolf wasted no time in jumping the witch, it happened so fast she couldn't react as Autumn’s jaws closed around her whole head, she didn’t even draw a sound as her paws closed around her shoulders and arms and the wolf’s head moved abruptly from one side to the other, snapping her neck and crushing her skull between her teeth that were as sharp as Valyrian steel

“Greenseer beats blood witch”, whispered Sara as Autumn licked her teeth and her paws. Sara grabbed a sleeping Rickon and cuddled him against her chest, and left the room to cuddle her nephew to her own room, who in turn was protected with another type of ancient magic. Rickon nameless pup soon followed her, moving his short tail

Aemond, al the way back in Harrenhal went to confront Alys the next morning, he knew she had something to do with the attack on you, and if we are being honest, he was scared for you, he had seen what Alys could do, but only after spending the night with you, he went to her rooms and what he found there made him ran down back on his own steps and throw up in the nearest pot he could find

Her head was on one side of the room, and her body on the other.

Blood everywhere, in the ceiling and in the walls, and the fire extinguished.

Aemond had no choice but to burn it all with Alys in it, people will never believe what he saw, no one ever could.

What happened in that room, it could not be explained.

It took two months for Cregan to reach Dragonstone, only to realize it was empty, the royal family was not there, they had taken King’s Landing, but from there, they could be easily reached, a raven arrived in King’s landing with the news that Cregan Stark was in Dragonstone, desperately wanting to talk to Daemon Targaryen.

Jacaerys was still in Dragonstone, as prince of the seat of the Targaryens., and in the middle of the war, he was commanded to protect it until the threat of the Greens could be defeated permanently, with him was Rhaena and Baela

The Rogue was securing the rest of the crown lands, and he couldn’t attend the call of the young wolf, but to one month later, as soon as he could

“What happened?”, he asked, as soon as he had the wolf of Winterfell in front of him, he took of the helmet of his armor and stare at the man

“We were marching South, we were surprised by the Baratheons and the royal army”, he whined, “we fought, good, we were winning, but there was nothing we could do against Vhagar”

“But why would you march on Harrenhal?”, he asked, annoyed, “we explicitly said that…”

“He has her”, he cut his words, and Daemon looked at him wide eyed

“How?”, he asked

“He threatened her when I had already left, she went to him willingly, to avoid bloodshed, to safe our son and Winterfell”, Daemon cursed in High Valyrian, as he paced around the war room

“When?”

“Five moons ago”, Daemon grabbed a wooden chair and threw it against the nearest wall, breaking it in a thousand pieces

“And just now…?”, he faced Cregan

“I didn't know you were not here!”, he fought back, and Daemon refrained from fighting him. But as he thought more about, on a plan to recuperate you… he realized that one-eye bastard had not been in the battlefield, because he was distracted, by you

“With this… she had given us a priceless gift”, he said. Cregan frowned, looking at him

“What gift?”

“Time”

“What do you mean?”, asked then Jacaerys, who was as surprised as terrified

“He is distracted by her, we lost Harrenhal but recuperated the rest of the Riverlands, the knights of the Vale are crossing the Valley, we are going to storm Harrenhal and he won’t see us coming!”, he said hastily, he then looked at Cregan

“Can you raise another army?”, he asked him

“Already send the ravens”, he said, decisively

“I will take care of the Dragon, you will take care of the Baratheons and the Greens”, and just like that, they were ready to retaliate.

The blacks were planning the counterattack

More notes: i had never written any magical thing like that, I hope it was bearable AJAJA It even amazed me of how quickly the chapter came, now I'm a short period of vacation and I'm inspired

Taglist!: ❤️❤️ @severewobblerlightdragon @missusnora @stargaryenx @poppyreader @chainsawsangel @court-jester-stuff @batprincess1013 @eddiepicker

@lyannesworld @arujee @kamisunshine @mss-nthng @partypoison00 @grimistangel @elleclairez @may-machin @prettykinkysoul @justagurlwithships @champomiel

@laura-naruto-fan1998 @zoleea-exultant @devotedlythoughtfulanchor @zoleea-exultant @llleon666 @dark-night-sky-99 @bitchigoteverythingissues @harrypotteranna23-blog

@esposadomd @ajanauia @phantomtea19 @let-love-bleeds-red @kishie8 @dreamingofyourmoons @esposadomd @sandronebabyy @kemillyfreitas @trifoliumviridi @dreamingofyourmoons @darling-jace @biblichorr @ivvypg @mendes-bae @borikenlove @tssf-imagines @praline357 @alitaar @prettykinkysoul @aelora-a @a-mexican-waffle @ateliefloresdaprimavera @alexa4040 @lrboyd @anditsmywholeheart @weaselyss @scarlettqueen190 @deeeeexx @cloudroomblog @dreaming-of-the-reality @yentroucnagol @crazymusicgirl104 @toodlesxcuddles

#misguidedwinter #cregan stark x reader #cregan #cregan x reader #cregan x you #cregan stark #hbo house of the dragon #house targaryen #house of the dragon #house stark #dark!aemond x reader #dark!aemond targaryen x reader #house targeryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x alys rivers #aemond the kinslayer #aemond targaryen #targaryen!oc #targaryen!reader

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natalievoncatte · 1 year

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These plots are, as a rule, complex. So it bothers Lena, just a little, that this one is so simple. Not only that, it’s been done. It is these thoughts, these cold reflections, that she uses to distract herself from her imminent and most likely very painful death as Lex’s thug releases his bruising grip on her calf and shoulder and she begins the ninety story drop that will leave her skull in pieces and some of her favorite organs outside her body.

The last time she fell like this, Supergirl was “having coffee” with Kara Danvers.

This time, Supergirl -and thus, Kara Danvers- are busily engaged in fighting a raging fire in an apartment complex on the other side of town and saving the tenants. There will be no miraculous catch this time, no last minute save. Only a heart emoji in a text message and a cooling bag of takeout for the lunch that will be quite cold by the time Jess realizes something is wrong .

Lena knows it when she realizes that too much time has passed, too many floors gone by. She doesn’t look at the ground. The drop gives her just enough time to-

The collision knocks the wind from her lungs and jostles her, hard, spinning the world crazily. In some distant, scientific part of her brain, she marvels that Kara can not only make the complex calculations needed to catch Lena without doing as much damage as an impact with the pavement, but actually perform the maneuver. Even then, Lena will be florid with bruises later.

As quickly as it started, it’s over. Over, but different this time. Lena is cradled with the utmost care, Kara’s every movement deliberate and gentle, as if she were cradling a newborn or an irreplaceable treasure. When Kara wraps Lena in her soot-black and red cape and leans in, surrounding them both in a curtain of flowing golden curls, it is as if there is nothing else in the world, nothing else at all, only the bastion-embrace that clutches Lena close and the acrid tang of smoke and sweat.

There are no jokes this time, no quips. Kara holds Lena tight, their foreheads pressed together, and gives no indication that she’s willing to ever let go, even when Lena hears Alex’s voice admonishing her that they’re in public, that people are staring and taking photographs.

Lena should be worrying about these things too, but being held by Kara Danvers is like being held by a castle, and when Kara finally speaks, a breathless whisper of “I almost didn’t make it this time”, Lena hears another truth behind the words and and cannot stop the tears.

From a prompt: “An embrace that lasts a little too long”

#supercorp #supergirl fanfiction #supercorp fanfic #supergirl #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #karlena #supergirl fanfic #ficlet

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rainybyday · 2 years

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Danny owns a traveling space auditorium

like, if the boy can’t be able to go to space the normal human way because of his physical condition then he can at least center his life around the one subject he is so passionate about.

So a space auditorium it is, and not just a normal auditorium but a traveling one.

Why?

Well for one, Danny has to be on the move in a way, first from the GIW because they are the ones that have their mission of finding, capturing, and experimenting on ghosts. If they manage to find out that Danny is a halfa then they would go after him to study him and to contain him for the "protection" of others. If they don't know he is a halfa but someone who does know about ghost and suspect he is helping them then Danny is their ticket to finding those ghost. So yeah, reason one is GIW.

(Or you can also add the bad Fenton parents route and see how that goes as well)

Another reason is that this makes it an excuse for Danny to find and transport other ghosts from the human realm to the Infinite Realms whenever he hears slight rumors of other ghostly activities. It also gives him a chance to content his protection obsession

But it also gives him a bit of freedom, a chance to get out and be free from the need to stay up all night and skip out on school or be at the end of his parent's own inventions. To be able to travel without a destination and show the world his own world of wonders seem like such a personal and amazing way for Danny to live his childhood dream as an astronaut.

...and maybe an excuse to have Danny to visit Dani once or twice

But in any case!

Danny's traveling space auditorium is a tent in which people can go in and see the stars all around them. It's like the tent suddenly became big as with each step they take they felt the explosions of stars and the creation of galaxies, the rings of Saturn that feel a touch away, nova's that have colors only those with meta genes can see right in front of them, the heat of the sun as fire curls around them and the ride of shooting stars that pass the asteroid belt. With the use of Danny's powers, he can create scenes in which he had experiences in both the Ghost realm and in space.

But his favorite is when he creates the grande finally of entrapping everyone with stars, from the top of their heads to the very souls of their feet. Everywhere they walk or see there would always be stars as if they were in space itself. Danny always felt joy when the small 'stars' around them can be moved by them and watched in glee as children make a game of collecting the prettiest stars, how the adults laugh in awe and the elderly given a smile on their faces.

The first time he tested this was in the inside of his room with Jazz who quickly gained a hug and an excited Jazz over the use of his powers and his love for space. Sam and Tucker were the next to experience his little space auditorium. The joy they showed only made Danny more eager to share his little gift.

Once he grabbed a tent and did enough practice he traveled to the next town over and made cape there, nervous of the reaction of strangers would be.

He didn't need to worry as he was given praise after praise.

One show became two, then two to three, and then three to ten.

Word of Danny's traveling space auditorium spread quickly which actually got demands from other states since Danny, at first, only starred in his traveling space auditorium in the state. But now he's been getting all sorts of requests from all over the country.

And because it's the era of social media, his traveling space auditorium boomed.

It boomed to the point where he even got Martian Manhunter to see his auditorium. Martian Manhunter!

That was the best day of his half-dead life

At least, it was until he visited Gotham.

Why you may ask?

Well on the third day of his visit there was a murder inside his tent.

#danny fenton #danny phantom #dc x dp #dp x dc #space #stars #gotham #welp #this things happen in gotham after all

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ltwilliammowett · 4 months

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Fire and ice united in one lady. Hidden in today's 14 door is the Queen of Ice - the Bark Europa

Bark Europa

More about her:

Today's sailing ship Europa was launched in 1911 as an unpowered lightship under the name Senator Brockes at the Hamburg shipyard H. C. Stülcken Sohn under the construction number 409. As lightship Elbe 4 and pilot station on the Elbe as well as Elbe 3 and Elbe 4, this ship was in service almost without interruption until 1977. From around 1975, the costly and labour-intensive lightships began to be replaced by large buoys and automatic stations on the sea waterways.

Almost all of the old lightships had sailing ship hulls, as these were particularly good in the often rough seas of their fixed anchorages. A buyer from Hamburg bought the ship for scrap and began converting it into a proper sailing ship in 1986, but was unable to cope. In 1987, the Dutchman Harry Smit bought the hull and invested millions in converting the ship. By 1994, it had become a three-masted sailing ship with a bar rig. Mahogany panelling salvaged from old ships was used inside the ship and a lot of brass was also traditionally used. The Europa is used worldwide as a charter ship. She has circumnavigated the globe several times and also sailed around Cape Horn. On 20 May 2023, she had an accident in Cape Town when she was to be relaunched after a period in the shipyard and tipped over on land. After a few weeks, she was raised and is sailing again.

#naval history #naval artifacts #tall ship #bark europa #early 20th century #age of steam #advent calendar #day 14

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corse2b · 10 months

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TOUR GÉNOISE DE LA MORTELLA.

Cap Corse..

Saint-Florent. Haute Corse.

La tour de la Mortella a été construite en 1564, 10 ans après l’évacuation des troupes françaises de la ville de Saint-Florent. Elle

s’inscrit dans le réseau de fortification devant protéger Saint-Florent, avec la citadelle de la ville et les tours de Fornali et

Vecchiaia. En 1793, durant la guerre opposant Français et Anglais, le général Nelson fut surpris par la résistance de la tour au feu des canons:

il aurait demandé à son état major d'en relever les plans comme modèle pour la construction de tours sur les côtes

de Grande-Bretagne et d'Irlande, que l’on retrouve de nos jours sous le nom de « Martello towers »

source:corse2b. mai 2023.

GENOISE TOWER OF LA MORTELLA.

Cape Corsica..

Saint Florent. Upper Corsica.

The Mortella tower was built in 1564, 10 years after the evacuation of French troops from the town of Saint-Florent. She

is part of the network of fortifications to protect Saint-Florent, with the citadel of the city and the towers of Fornali and

Vecchiaia. In 1793, during the war between the French and the English, General Nelson was surprised by the resistance of the tower to fire

cannons: he would have asked his staff to draw up the plans as a model for the construction of towers on the coasts

of Great Britain and Ireland, which we find today under the name of "Martello towers".

source:corsican2b. May 2023.

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cairavende · 6 months

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Worm Arc 11 thoughts (pre-interludes):

Taylor's dad sees his daughter for the first time since she ran away. Since the fucking Endbringer attack! And literally says the line "“I need to go handle this" about a fucking work thing. No Danny. You do not NEED TO HANDLE THIS. God damn. It is fucking hard to be a co-parent for Taylor when I'm the only one doing any parenting!

Speaking of parenting - Taylor, you really should get some therapy. That was a pretty detailed level of fucked up nightmare you had. I love you and just want you to take care of yourself.

Skitter just like "all right, for day 1 I'm going to gain complete fucking control over my territory and establish myself as an unkillable bug goddess". And then she worries if she is doing enough!

Seriously though, letting that guy stab her and counting on her costume to block the knife? Fucking baller move. Also stupidly risky. So pretty much on point for my wonderful but stress inducing bug daughter.

And then she just sits in her chair drinking tea while she destroys two groups of Merchants? Doesn't just beat them, but absolutely terrorizes them. Lights one of them on fire with their own matches! WITH BUGS! I love her so much.

She also gained two minions as a side bonus to controlling her territory. And ensured their loyalty and dedication to her.

For real. Sierra would take a bullet. She'd die for Taylor. But Charlotte? Charlotte would kill for Taylor.

The speech Taylor gave Charlotte when giving her the options "leave town" or "work for me" was so well done! Came across as incredibly fair so Charlotte couldn't complain, but also just tied her in a little bundle all nice and neat. Set her up to want to work for you. Very nicely done. Taylor clearly has been learning from Lisa.

We're just pretty much giving up on that whole secret identity thing huh? It just started cascading out of control quite quickly. I don't expect Taylor and Skitter to be different people for much longer.

Lisa and Taylor went to a party together! A shitty villain party that was dangerous and almost killed them. But villain prom is villain prom. GAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!

Just a number of good Chatterbug (Smugbug) moments here.

Lisa has a MURDER WALL! AAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!! I love her so fucking much and I will just sit in there with her working on the murder wall for hours. (She isn't trying to solve a murder so I know it isn't technically a murder wall, but it's a murder wall cause that's the best name.)

Fucking Bryce. Sure went through a lot of trouble for that asshole.

Skidmark just doing a thunderdome up in here. Some people use their powers for cool things and others build a fence.

Also really not seeming to do great for loyalty. Like ya you get a cape or two out of it but it left everyone in your gang not trusting anyone else.

I love everyone in Faultline's crew. Newter was my favorite but Shamrock may have beaten him out. I always loved Domino and Shamrock gives the same vibe.

Newter got a few good Nightcrawler like moments here too which was fun (grabbing things with his tail, talking to people from weird perches).

God DAMN Labyrinth is powerful. Like I knew she was but getting to see it. Holy shit. That was so fucking cool. Literal goddess of reality right here.

I'm really excited to learn more about Cauldron and the superhero in a can stuff. Very Weapon X with the memory wiping and such. (I'm just really on an X-men comparison thought process right now I guess)

Taylor "I'm not a skilled combatant" Hebert over here as she dual wields knives and successfully fights off multiple people, most bigger than her, while specifically using non-lethal attacks on them. Taylor that isn't what "not skilled" means!

PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD CHILD, STOP GETTING HIT IN THE HEAD! I WORRY!

Seeing the trigger event thing was really cool. I don't think the fact that any cape near a trigger event appears to almost pass out has been mentioned before. Obviously in universe know one would know anything beyond them appearing to stumble, but still. And we got to see more of the higher dimension beings. We in Flatland now.

Oh god there is so much more I think I'm missing huge amounts. AHHH!!!

Oh, this is important. While describing Mush Taylor says "He bore a resemblance to a particular pink skinned, scrawny goblin of a creature from those fantasy movies." That open endedness of that context made me decide she must be talking about The Goblin King in Labyrinth. David Bowie. But to keep things simple, since it might seem like she is talking about Gollum, I decided that on Earth Bet David Bowie played Gollum in the Lord of the Rings movies. This is canon as far as I am concerned.

That does also mean Mush looks at least a little bit like David Bowie.

#Worm #Worm Web Serial #Parahumans #Cairavende reads Worm #Chatterbug #Smugbug #Taylor Hebert #MURDERWALL!!!#Lisa Wilbourn #My daughter is so terrifying and she absolutely does not realize how much #The feelings Taylor had when she realized how terrifyingly powerful Labyrinth was is the same feeling everyone else has around Taylor #She literally is one step away from turning any moment into a horror movie. I love her so much.

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xxxdegenerate · 8 months

Note

Hiya! I saw you're in need of requests!

Ok one piece. Luffy. He is always for weird New people who Peaks his interest

Sooooo. Magician! A real life magician! He would freak out 🤣

The Crew wary, thinking she would hex them or use them to practice curses or other morbid stuff but she is just so sweet! She helps the Crew with her magic, like Chopper or sanji introduce him magic plants he can use for cooking etc. Luffy is more than happy to have her and when Marines come, ready to attack, she just Flicks her hand and the ship gets destroyed in one go, humming before returning to her previous task 🤣🤣

Pls! You would make my day!

I love writing OP reader, and I don't even know why. THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST. (it's acc cool as fuck to imagine this)

Luffy x Magician!Reader

❥note ;; Magician? Hell yee, I feel like I could have done better, or maybe I will write an actual story about this, because it seems really interesting!

❥tw ;; Fighting, cursing // not proofread

You walked the trail on the island you grew up in. Wearing a cape, with some gloves and a hat. The sun was setting and the breeze was calm. You were the odd one out, but that didn't stop you from having a little fun.

You waved your hand around, causing leaves around you to float about. You smiled as you lifted them up into the air. Going in circles before making various shapes.

All of a sudden, big explosions were sounded in the town just ahead. Now as much as you hate this town, and the pirates that accompany it. You rushed over, using your powers to push yourself faster.

Upon arriving, you noticed the towns people and the pirates were in a heated fight. You looked around, trying to figure out why. You snapped your fingers and some cards appeared into the air, surrounding you.

"Ah the weirdo decides to join in hah?" The captain of the lowlife pirates. You rolled your eyes and turned to face the woman. "What are you doing with the town?" You noticed how the houses were getting torn down and fights happening all around. You also happened to notice someone whiz past you and a loud laugh.

Although you decided to shake that off and keep your attention on the lady. "Just finally taking what is ours."

You flicked your hand and cards went towards her. Blowing up.

She coughed and whipped out her sword. "Two can pl-" She was tackled to the ground and a black haired boy with a strawhat sat on top of her. "What-" You choked out.

One of her crew?

You haven't seen him around here, so he must be. You flicked your hand and the two of them go flying. "Weeeee!" You heard the boy laugh.

"Who are you?" A voice, from behind you. You turn around as one of your cards stop at his neck. You narrow your eyes.

"Why are you tearing apart this town." You demanded an answer.

He tilted his head in response as he took a bite out of the chunk of meat he somehow got. "Tearing? AH woah! Your hat!" He looked confused before pointing at your hat in surpise.

"I have one too! Yours is different." You shook your head and turned around, throwing some of the other pirates off of the people.

"Woah! How do you do that?" You deadpan at the boy who followed you around.

"Are you apart of this fight or not?"

"Join my crew!"

"No! You're ruining this town!"

"No were not, that's not my friends." You were confused, you decided to just blast some smoke and go back towards the fight.

Soon, a pile of pirates sat in the center of the town. Smoke and fire erupting around. "Y/n! You did it again!" The elder lady came and thanked you.

You looked around at the town, meeting the eyes of the boy from earlier. He held a wide smile on his face. "That was cool! Join my crew."

"Who are you?"

"Luffy! I'm going to be the king of pirates."

"Sorry dude, but me and pirates do not get along." You were hesitant.

"Come with me!"

This went on for awhile, as you used your magic to held rebuild and clean the area up, he followed you like a lost dog. Watching in awe and standing on some of the broken bits of wood you would raise in the air. He was starting to get on your nerves.

You pull the wooden plank towards you with Luffy on it. "Okay, what do you want?" He smiles widely at you as he has all day. "You're cool! I want you to join me. You'll love it." He giggled.

You scratch your neck before moving him away. He seemed nice, and he did help you get rid of the pirates. But he was also a pirate.

He stretched his arms and pulled himself towards you, crashing into you.

The two of you rolled before you landed a couple feet away. "Dude-" You grabbed at him and pulled his arm, which stretched. "Okay, that's a little weird."

"Pleaseeeee."

Deciding that he would probably not take no for an answer you decided to follow him to his ship. You could either get kidnapped, killed, or worse. You knew you had this in the bag though. "If you try anything I'm teleporting away."

He laughed in response as you somehow finally reached the boat. "Didn't we pass this like an hour ago.." He launched the two of you up into the center of the ship.

"Luffy! Why did you take off! You've been gone all day!" An orange haired girl scolded Luffy. A few others appeared and started complaining. "Who is this?" A blonde man appeared next to you with a rose.

"This is.. uh."

"Y/n."

After meeting everyone they seemed very weary of you. Luffy described what you could do and they looked hesitant. They haven't seen you in battle, but they don't doubt Luffy.

"She's our new crew member!"

"When did I agree to that!!?"

You bicker back and forth for a hot minute. This man acted like a child and it made you fume. You flicked your hand and hit him on the head with a rock. Not toooooo hard, and not like it would hurt him anyone. He fell down and laughed. "Look isn't that cool."

The others around you sweatdropped and were clearly on edge.

"H-hey guys.." The long nosed dude pointed to a ship that was nearing, quickly.

While still arguing with Luffy about joining, you flicked your wrist towards the ship. The ship erupted. Pieces of wood flying and people yelling and jumping overboard. The crew watched in awe

"You are a bad influence! I am not joining your crew!" He giggled at your reaction. You shake your head and turn around, heading to jump off of the ship. Acting like taking that ship down was nothing to you. "H-hey wait.. are you sure you don't want to join?" The girl from earlier had stopped you.

You narrow your eyes. Did you really want to join a pirate crew? You looked back and see a little reindeer chasing Luffy around. "You're hurt! Stop running around!" Your eyes dart to the side, seeing the blonde serve drinks to another lady.

"Ah fuck it."

EXTRA:

Over the past week of being aboard the Sunny. It was a new experience, and you hate to admit you enjoyed these pirates. They were... fun. You helped around the ship, soon they became your family. You helped Sanji and showed him new things, for cooking. You even entertained Usopp and Luffy with your magic.

You were beginning to like the pirate life.

#one piece fluff #one piece scenario #one piece headcanons #luffy #luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy #op #x reader #fluff #Straw hats #Nami #Zoro #Sanji #Robin #Chopper

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domainedewinter · 2 months

Text

The price of fire - chapter 3

Summary: Aemond meets a mysterious silver-haired girl on the beach while facing Vhagar. But the more he tries to know her, the deeper her secrets seem.

Warnings: DUBCON, TYPICAL TARGARYEN INCEST, profanity, innuendo, he/him pronouns, she/her pronouns, fingering, oral m receiving, oral f receiving, misogyny, toxic behaviour, Dom!Aemond, begging, underage hotd style, nsfw.

(coming soon, I will indicate the chapters containing smut with a 🔥)

Rating: 18+, MDNI

English is not my first language.

Chapter 3.

⤞⟢⨳⟣⤝ Roxaene ⤞⟢⨳⟣⤝

The night had been more restless than Roxaene would have wished; her dreams were filled with dragons, the sound of their wings, and the fiery color of the fire ready to devastate everything in their path. But it wasn't just the reptilian eyes of the dragons she had dreamed of.

A lilac eye, cold and masculine, had haunted her night—a piercing gaze that demanded the world to be offered to him, and if the world refused, he was ready to take it by force.

She woke up in a sweat, short of breath, with the echo of the prince's voice in her head.

As the hours of the day passed, Roxaene felt a kind of anxiety growing in the pit of her stomach; why had she agreed?

Because she had no choice.

Because otherwise, the prince would not have let her go.

Because if she had not given her word, perhaps she would never have left that beach. By what right did he show himself threatening and demand her presence?

By royal right.

Aemond was a prince, a Targaryen, a being chosen by the gods and envied by the men. He could demand whatever he wished and be obeyed instantly, a thought that touched the nerves of the young girl. Trying not to let this anxiety overwhelm her, she spent the day helping her host, her thoughts flying too quickly during every small talk, but her innocent and apologetic smile prevented anyone from blaming her. In their eyes, she was just a reserved and new girl in town, probably shy and a bit naive; that's what was expected of her age and gender.

When the meal was finished and the sun began to redden, she excused herself and went to bed. The fabric on her head covered her hair, braided along her shoulder so that no silver strand would betray her secret—a secret she herself was unaware of.

It didn't take her long to leave the house and reach the beach, her mind memorizing every cobblestone, every street to take as if her steps were destined to go there. Vhagar was the first thing she saw; lying on the ground, her warm breath swelling her body with each expiration.

And again, that numbness against her palm. Roxaene nervously rubbed it against the loose pants she was wearing—having only worn clothes from Dorne until now—before instinctively raising her head, her heart and mind commanding her to do so.

So that her gaze met the prince's.

⤞⟢⨳⟣⤝ Aemond ⤞⟢⨳⟣⤝

When she emerged from the path, the young prince noticed her instantly; the blue and orange fabric covering her head, braided down to the small of her back, and the strange clothes she wore; loose pants, split on one thigh, with a belt made of thick, embroidered fabric a few centimeters below her navel. A long-sleeved top revealing her shoulders, on which an orange and yellow cape was hung.

The prince's single eye lingered on the young girl before looking into her eyes and approaching her. Once in front of her, he tilted his head to the side, as if evaluating or assessing her.

"You came. I appreciate that you kept your word."

At the slight pout on the girl's face, he guessed that she didn't like her word being doubted, but without adding anything, it was he who continued.

"I have questions to ask you. And I expect answers, Roxaene."

Roxaene's thin, silver eyebrows furrowed, and it amused him; something in her calmed him and made him want to know more, to push her to her limits and see how far he could go.

"Follow me."

He nodded and reached out to her, almost surprised by his own gesture. The girl's lilac eyes landed on his hand, but she didn't resist, taking it and shivering when they touched. He led her near Vhagar and sat in the sand, facing the sea, motioning for her to do the same.

"Where are you from?"

"Dorne."

"Hm." Aemond's only response as he leaned towards her, his hand reaching for her face. As she was about to pull away, he grabbed the fabric in her hair to remove it. Instantly, her small, pale hands, so small compared to his, grabbed his wrist, shaking her head from side to side in a silent "no."

"Yes. Remove your hands, now."

The tone of his voice was cold, like the blade of a dagger ready to pierce flesh, and Roxaene felt her heart race—something he probably felt too, as he slightly furrowed his silver brows in turn.

"What do you fear? I've already seen you without it. There's no need to hide from me. You have nothing to conceal if I want to see it, understood?"

This boldness, this arrogance, made the girl's blood boil. She clenched her jaws, trying to regulate her increasingly difficult breath, but let go of the prince's wrist, offering him her best black and murderous look.

Kneeling in front of her on the sand, he gently and meticulously removed the fabric, unrolling it and releasing her long moon hair that cascaded down to the small of her back and around her delicate face. He saw her lower her eyes and grabbed her chin, their gaze meeting again.

"In my memories, no one in Dorne is known to have such features. Let me rephrase my question; where are you originally from? Because obviously, your parents are not from the south."

It was a question Roxaene would have liked to have the answer to, to know the identity of her parents, to know where she was born, the house she belonged to.

"Unfortunately, my prince, I'm afraid I will disappoint you because I don't know. I was given to my father on the day of my birth, and I never had the chance to know those who conceived me, before abandoning me.”

A sigh escaped her, and he released her chin, deciding that she should continue to look at him even if he didn't force her, which she did, her gaze as audacious as the day before, even though it was clear she was drawing on her patience to answer him and stay still.

"You must know something, a detail, a place, a date?" Inquisitive and relentless, he would not let her leave that beach without something to reflect on her origins.

Just as he began to consider the idea of keeping her locked in the Keep until he found a solution, Roxaene's sweet voice echoed again, capturing his attention and diverting him from his kidnapping plans.

"I was born in the year 111, the day the bells rang for the first nameday of one of the princes."

Aemond's gaze seemed to cloud, as if he were witnessing a scene playing out before his eyes, a memory he was trying to understand. But quickly, he snapped back, nodding with satisfaction.

"Can I go now?" Roxaene asked, trying not to appear too impatient or insolent, but it failed when Aemond raised his eyebrows.

"By all the gods, I don't know who raised you, nor where the blood flowing in your veins comes from, but you should learn to stay in your place."

The girl's cheeks flushed, and she turned on her knees in the hope of standing up and leaving, but the prince's hand grabbed her shoulder, forcing her to sit back down.

"I don't remember saying I was done with you."

"Well, I'm sorry, Your Grace, but I am done with you." She spat at him, her patience just surpassed. She stood up and turned away, starting to walk in the sand to reach the path, but soon he was behind her, making her turn around, grabbing her wrist tightly, wide-eyed.

"I could have your tongue cut out for daring to address me like that. I could do whatever I want with you since you seem to be nobody, and nobody will claim you." He began, leaning over her, his free hand putting a long silver strand behind her ear.

"So don't show yourself so ungrateful. It wouldn't please me much to have to hurt you."

"As your reputation says, allow me to doubt that!"

If she could, Roxaene would have slapped her hand over her mouth to prevent other words as foolish as they were true from escaping. How could she say that, especially when they were alone and he had just threatened her?

Expecting to be reprimanded, she opened her mouth again to apologize, to try to make him forget the words she had just spoken, but he spoke first, advancing towards her with such aplomb that she had no choice but to step back, again and again, letting him take her where he wanted without being able to escape.

"My reputation? I would be curious to hear it. What do they say about me behind the city walls? I don't mingle with the common folks and, therefore, am unaware, but you seem to know, Roxaene, enlighten my ignorance."

"Oh, you want to know what they say about you? A penchant for ferocity, bold but quarrelsome and capricious. Impetuous and insulting, and from what I've seen since I came across you, I wouldn't risk contradicting these rumors! You command me as if I owe you something, even though I told you I never wanted to harm your dragon or even you. For a reason I ignore, you take pleasure in trying to scare me!"

It was the first time someone had spoken to the prince like that, and he was so surprised that he was initially motionless before a slight and strange smile appeared on his too thin lips. It was at that moment that Roxaene's back collided with a warm and rumbling surface: Vhagar.

Like a predator on the hunt, he leaned his face towards hers, brushing her cheek with his nose, as if he were smelling her, as if he were trying to sense her fear but found none. It was anger, perhaps, but mostly audacity and a lack of fear that he felt, his lips brushing her delicate neck.

"You burn with a fiery flame, Roxaene, but believe me, there is no creature on this earth that I cannot tame."

#aemond smut #house targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #hotd #aemond x oc #vhagar

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