#I think he reaches quite advanced age as well

[canisalbus]

You said you know the deaths of all your characters, please tell me Vasco dies a peaceful death surrounded by everyone who loves him.

cw character death talk in the tags

#yeah I think that's the only correct option for him #I think he reaches quite advanced age as well #and amasses a large group of friends and family #big contrast to Machete who dies suddenly violently and alone and isn't really missed by anyone but Vasco #answered #anonymous

[randombush3]

THE SECOND PART

(to get back to the main post)

carry on reading!!!

[...]

Bali is hot. Or at least, by your English standards, it is. 

The children enjoy the villa at the Ritz, less so the yoga you partake in when your best friends find out that it can mend broken hearts, and there are big TVs in the living rooms that the World Cup matches are broadcasted on. 

Your fingers remain bare, but no one knows about the ring in your suitcase anyway, so no one questions the absence of jewellery that used to adorn your hands. Or, at least, no one whose opinion you actually care about. 

Nico and Elena are happy to play and play and play, barely granting you their attention when you disrupt their endless hours in the pool or exploring the beautiful grounds of the hotel with the 24-hour childcare service. You had been reluctant to accept the help, but Gio was fine with her own daughter being stolen away, and they both called you ‘uptight and preoccupied, a sad, faded picture of how fun you used to be’ until you gave in. 

You let Alexia wonder about how her children are, attributing her lack of phone calls to her focus on chasing World Cup glory, blissfully ignorant to the fact that your friends have been micro-managing your interactions ever since they agreed they aren’t sure about letting you forgive the blonde just yet. That is not to say she doesn’t ever speak to them – Nico was gifted an iPad for Easter (a shoddy, shoddy excuse of an occasion to be given it, but you barely batted an eye as he tore open the packaging and thanked Auntie Anya profusely). He sort of understands how to FaceTime Alexia. They often happen when he is with what Alexia calls ‘the can’t-mother-too-busy-doing-drugs nanny’. 

You are lounging on the sunbeds, sweat pooling on your navel, music playing softly through the speaker Elena had begged you to bring. Though Moana pales in comparison to the days you’d attend concerts that weren’t your own, you are quite content to relax and zone out the lively songs and stare up at the brilliant, blue sky. 

Today is a bit different. You are two weeks into your holiday, with one remaining, and, today is the day you are finally going to open Alexia’s gift. 

You worked out what it was the moment she had given it, but, since you know that curiosity kills the cat, you have stopped yourself from opening it, not sure if you will cope with seeing a ring. What would this ring even be? A ‘sorry I fucked my best friend’? 

Elena hasn’t been included in the children’s entertainment plans for the morning; they have gone for a visit to a coral reef, accompanied by their babysitter and Anya (who you are beginning to think is enjoying their activities more than they are). Despite being relatively advanced for her age, some things fall short, such as her attention span. It doesn’t help that the sleeping issues Alexia had noticed are leaking into her time spent with you, too. 

“Mama,” comes a small whine, followed by a sniffle. Elena has been trying her best to copy you, lying underneath a towel for shade. You had hoped she’d finally fallen asleep, seeing as that didn’t happen last night. With her evidently still awake, you sit up, reaching out to run your hand through her damp hair, not quite dry from when she had enough energy to splash around in the pool. 

“Mama, tired.” 

“I’m not surprised. That’s what happens if you don’t sleep.” 

“Mama.” The petulance is a little glimpse into her teenage years, but then she begins to cry and your imagination falters at the sound. 

Elena, as far as toddlers go, is not the most emotional. She is generally well-behaved, if a little unresponsive at times, but she is quiet and introverted and happy to follow the leader, whoever that may be. She is a complete contrast to her brother, who basks in the attention he demands from those around him, loud about what he loves and hates, yearning to make friends with everything he sees. Elena, Elisabet Segura has told you, is just like Alexia, when she was that age. Controlled, reserved. (And your parents were quick to draw the similarities between you and your son.) 

Just like her mother, Elena is drawn to you. Just like his mother, Nico is drawn to Alexia. Opposites attract. 

It’s hard to ignore if you notice it. 

So, when Elena begins to cry, you are alarmed to see, in her eyes, the same fear that clouds hazel irises you know far too well. The tears glide down her cheeks in inherited patterns, and you try not to panic at how much she looks like Alexia – even if they do not share the same DNA. 

Part of you, the same part that suffered from postpartum depression and dulled your motherly instincts, wants nothing more than to run away from the crying toddler, horrified at the sight as you spiral and begin to imagine Alexia in her place, just as distraught as your daughter seems to be. And it’s weird and unsettling and you are so confused because Elena hasn’t cried like this since you told Alexia to leave. She continues, and even that night starts to seem minor in comparison to her meltdown right now. 

Elena does not sob, she does not scream, she does not shout and go bright red in the face earnestly. A developmental tantrum, sure, but never, ever like this. 

You have never seen this before, and you are at a loss for how to respond. Naturally, you draw her into your arms, holding her close and rocking her gently as she continues to wail. 

“Oh, my darling,” you stagger out, trying to forget your desire to join her, to break down with her. “Mama’s here, Lela. It’s okay.” The words feel inadequate and do nothing to soothe her, though your hands stroke her back as if to rub the comfort in, to absorb her anguish and bleed it out. You would do it, if you could. You’d take all of her pain away in an instant. 

In your mind, a whirlwind of thoughts swells up and disgorges bubbling, burning ideas into the pit of your stomach, none of them quite fitting as an explanation for her distress. Is she hurt? Is she missing Alexia? Or is it something deeper, something you’d overlooked? 

You can be selfish, you know that. Perhaps you have been too focused on getting over the destruction of your family that you have forgotten said family in the process?

Perhaps this has happened before! You were touring for a while.

As you hold her, helplessness washes over you, as though the pool you are right next to has grown thrice the size and is trying to drown you both. You wish Alexia were here all of a sudden. Alexia, gifted at soothing crying children and being a mother and managing a career and parenthood in a way that you have never quite managed. 

Alexia, who gave into your request for children and ended up besting you at it. 

Alexia, whom you still love and miss and hope, sometimes, will wake up beside you even if you know that it is wrong and pathetic and… God, do you really lack such self-respect that you’d take her back? Are you this useless that the crying child in your arms should be passed off to someone else because you can’t cope and you never will and you still smoke because you’re stressed and the last time you took drugs was far too recent to be called a good mother and Elena cries and cries and cries and…

You take a deep breath. 

“It’s okay,” you repeat, hating that you are lying to her. It’s not okay! None of it is okay. “Mama’s here, Lela, Mama’s here. You’re safe.” 

Your voice trembles, and she hears the weakness of your tone, unconvinced and uncomforted, failed by the woman who is supposed to guide her through all of her storms as steady as the sun’s movement each passing hour. Elena’s cries continue unabated, her small frame wracked with sobs as she clings to you, squeezing your skin tightly in a way that tells you that you are not enough. 

You, alone, are not enough for her. 

You can’t do this. 

With your arms holding her securely in place, you dip down slightly, grasping your phone from the tote bag it’s shaded in. It has been warmed by the sun anyway, but the heat of the screen as you press it to your ear is nothing in comparison to the burning in your chest, the fire her cries have ignited in a way that destroys everything in you. 

She continues to scream into your body as the dial tone buzzes and beeps three times, picked up on the fourth as if she has been counting the rings.

“Dime,” Alexia’s gruff voice huffs out, unimpressed that you have called her after refusing for the past month, seemingly always busy. Anya and Gio had given her excuses; you were busy talking to Leah, you were in a meeting, you didn’t want to speak to her. “Now is not a good time.” 

You only manage to breath out her name before she understands that something is seriously wrong. 

“Alexia, it’s Elena… she’s… she’s crying, she hasn’t stopped. Alexia, I-I don’t know what to do,” you admit, voice breaking. You know she will be able to hear the sobs coming from the toddler, her voice mighty and fierce despite how small she seems. “She hasn’t slept at all, and it just… happened. I can’t calm her down.” 

“Is she hurt?” 

“No, no,” you stutter, words tumbling out in a rush, “I don’t think so.” 

“What do you mean ‘hasn’t slept’? Not even a nap?” 

You shake your head, panicked. At Alexia’s lack of response, you remember that she is not here with you. You swallow your own sobs. “She’s been sharing a room with Nico and everything’s been fine, except, last night, she wouldn’t sleep. It was like she was terrified of it. She begged me to let her sleep with me, so I brought her into my bed and, I don’t know, it didn’t help. I tried to tire her out, read to her, sang to her, told her off, comforted her, but she wouldn’t and so I drifted off and she didn’t and we were relaxing today – it’s just us, today – and she started crying half an hour ago and hasn’t stopped.” 

As if on cue, Elena’s sobs grow louder, piercing through the phone line in a way that makes both you and Alexia feel sick. But Alexia has heard these before, and has kept them from you for a very good reason.

“She’s exhausted,” Alexia decides calmly. “She’ll cry herself to sleep.” 

“She doesn’t want to sleep!” you snap, frustrated. 

“She’s scared you are going to leave her. She usually… she usually cries for you, when she’s with me. I guess not seeing me has flipped it.” 

“Usually?” 

You pale. 

“Usually, Alexia?” 

You hear a sigh. “Do you want me to talk to her?” she asks, ignoring your horrified question. “Rub her back and keep touching her, so that she knows you’re there. I’ll… I’ll see if I can get her to calm down a bit so that you can – you need a breather, don’t you?” 

“My daughter is crying as though the world is about to end.” 

“Well, for her, it feels like it is. Put me on speaker.” 

You obey her instruction, reclining on the lounger so that Elena is now curled on top of you, wetting your chest with her tears. You place the phone near her head, both hands trying desperately to remind her that she is not alone. 

“Lela, petita, no estàs sola. Estoy aquí, y Mama también. Mai et deixarem.” 

Elena sniffles, surprised by the sound of Alexia’s voice. 

“That’s it, darling,” you encourage as the sobs are quickly replaced by resigned whimpering. Alexia continues to talk, hardly understandable as you let yourself succumb to your own emotions, your tears running down the sides of your face, hands still drawing circles on your daughter’s back. “That’s it,” you whisper. 

Alexia hangs up when she hears both of you breathing deeply, slowly, softly; fast asleep. 

…

She wipes the sweat from her brow, more exhausted from this than the gym session she had stepped out of. 

“What was that about?” Codi asks her curiously, taken in the blush in her captain’s cheeks, the slight dent in her lips from where she has bitten them. “Rather inappropriate to pick up a booty call when we’re this close,” she pinches her fingers together, “to the semis, no?” 

“Elena won’t sleep with her either,” Alexia says, if not because she needs to tell someone then because she relishes in the embarrassment that clouds Laia’s face as she hurries to take her comment back. 

“I thought you’d overcome it,” Laia replies sadly. “She was sleeping the whole night in her own bed, wasn’t she? That was only two months ago.” 

“She can’t deal with it, Codi.” Her sigh is a little more heartbroken than what is fitting for such a communal area, but Alexia does not care that her hunched shoulders have caught Irene’s attention, the defender well-acquainted with the signs of family issues. “She can’t deal with the back-and-forth. She is only three.”

“It has been a year,” comforts her friend. “Maybe she needs more time to adjust.” 

“Laia, you did not hear her. She cried like she was going to die, and I felt like I was going to die with her. You know how Y/n is with… You remember what it was like when Nico was a baby, when he wouldn’t stop crying. We were lucky that Elena didn’t have that, or that the doctors were more vigilant or whatever, but… I was keeping this from her for a reason.” 

Alexia doesn’t want to guilt you back to her. There is the slightest possibility that, if you were to know just how much Elena has been struggling while away from you, you would suffer through your heartbreak and pretend everything was fine, just to make her happy. Just to make their lives easier. 

But Alexia knows. Alexia knows you wake up every day and relive it again and again. She sees the repulsion in your eyes when you look at her – she saw it through the wine and the pleasure. 

She knows you smoke, she knows the rumours about the parties you go to are mostly true. She knows that the album is about her, and that the success didn’t taste sweet because it exploited your heartbreak. 

She knows that you don’t feel anything towards Leah Williamson, that you’re only trying to get her attention or fill her place. 

Alexia knows all of this, because you are a part of her. She knows how you feel like she knows where her right hand is, and, the worst part about that, is that she knows it is all entirely her fault. 

“Irene, where is Mateo?! Alexia needs her little person hugs!” shouts Laia, sympathy hidden by her teasing tone, which Alexia is very grateful for. “Get the nen, and get him now!” 

…

The unopened ring box travels with you to Australia. 

Spain’s failure to lose has led them to the World Cup Final, and while you are going to support your own country, Elena and Nico are dressed in ALEXIA jerseys, yellow and red stripes painted onto their chubby cheeks. 

You had found out, after the Elena incident, that your friends had been lying to Alexia for your peace of mind, or so they claimed. 

You don’t know how to tell Alexia that you called Leah before you left for Bali and told her that you couldn’t be with her. Or that Gio and Anya had been meddling, going as far as to calculatedly gift Nico an iPad in preparation for a summer of trying to save you from a broken heart. 

So… you send her a heads-up that you’ll be attending the final, wish her luck (but not too much, for the sake of the Lionesses), and ensure the children are down for naps so that they have energy to party late into the night regardless of the outcome. 

As a desperate, short-term solution while separate from Alexia, you had your manager seek out the best paediatrician in Bali and get a reasonable prescription for melatonin, just so that Elena can sleep. You plan to let Alexia focus on her tournament and bring up the issue when preseason starts, aware that drugging the child to sleep is definitely not the best option. 

With another hour of sleep in their systems, you have time to re-pack your suitcases, ready to leave the next day. 

And you are reminded of your unopened gift. 

Alexia had said to open it when you were home, but you reason that home is with your children, and home, due to your career, is often also in the hotel suites in foreign countries. 

You root through the piles of neatly-folded clothes, searching for the box you had buried at the bottom. Its velvet edges are soft under the wrapping paper and the box is sitting in the palm of your hand, naked now, before you realise what you are doing. 

The lid flicks open, and you prepare yourself to see something shiny, some insanely expensive diamond that certainly won’t fix all that she has done. 

But you brace for nothing, for inside the box lies only a slip of paper. 

A boarding pass from London Stansted to Barcelona-El Prat Airport, decorated in aged, black ink.

Scrawled on top of the flight details is something much more valuable than the entrance into First Class the paper allows. 

Eleven digits. 

Your old phone number. 

You remember this. 

It was the night you first kissed Alexia, or, rather, she kissed you. You’d been at some FC Barcelona event, and you’d gone outside because you had realised it might not have been acceptable for Alexia to hit on you in front of all those people, no matter how much she had wanted to. 

You’d smoked to get her attention, to get her to tell you off. To start a conversation. And you had loved her from the minute she kissed you, so tentative, so unsure. 

The boarding pass is sentimental, and you are amazed at the condition it is in, or even the fact that she still has it. 

You drop the box, plucking the paper from the slit it had been situated in, unfolding it, examining it with tears in your eyes. 

You turn it over in your palm, re-acquainting yourself with your memories from that evening. 

And you notice fresh, blue ink written on the back of the boarding pass. 

It’s Alexia’s handwriting, this time, though neater than usual, having clearly taken care to form her letters correctly. 

Can we start again? it says.

There is a drawing of three stick women, short dresses, high ponytails, too. One is circled, an arrow leaping out of the wobbly shape. That one is labelled with your name, and, underneath, ‘esta es mi favorita y me casaré con ella algún día’. 

Marta once told you, at the expense of her club captain, that that had been Alexia’s only comment about you back when they were all obsessed with your break-out girl group and could never talk about anything else. 

Twenty-nine-year-old Alexia Putellas knows that her mistakes have lost her many battles, but twenty-nine-year-old Alexia Putellas also knows that her love will win her the war. Because there you are, and nothing is worth fighting for more than you. 

(to get back to the main post)

#fc barcelona #woso imagines #barca femeni #leah williamson x reader #woso x reader #woso #randombush3 #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas

[poursomesunaonme]

taste you still !

pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!reader

summary: you've been the o'hara's babysitter for quite some time; miguel thinks it's time for a raise!

wc: 4k

a/n: i have nothing to say for myself - i wrote this in two hours off two glasses of wine LMAO

cw: minors dni (pls have ur age in ur bio)!, age gap (reader is in college), drinking (clear for consent tho), pet names (sweetheart, bunny, conejita, little girl), doggy, oral (fem and male receiving), handjob, 69, biting, edging, scratching, size kink, overstim, nipple play, squirting, modified missionary, finger sucking, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare!

the tv flickers idly across the room as you fiddle with the hem of your skirt.  gabriella had been asleep for a few hours.  glancing at your phone, you find it’s just past midnight.  it’s a warm, friday summer night.  a soft drizzle begins to come down outside.

classes just finished for the summer.  if it had been any other friday, you’d be out at bars tearing it up with your friends.  however, the single dad you nanny for called you in last minute.  you didn’t mind.

the moist rainy air from the outside defeats the advances of the air conditioner, and it’s beginning to get hot in the living room where you sit.  you’re thankful for wearing light clothes, as it helps with the heat beginning to settle. the warmth and the sound of the rain to help your body settle, and you begin to doze off.

you jump as the lock clicks, signaling the return of your employer.  you clear your throat and check your phone before putting it down, acting like you were watching whatever animal documentary was on the tv.  

2:26am had blinked across your screen.  the father enters the house with a quiet sigh, locking the door behind him.

“hi, mr. o’hara,” you say lightly as he hangs his coat and shakes his umbrella before putting it in a plastic bag to dry off.

“hey, sweetheart,” he says, trying to keep the noise down to keep from waking his daughter as he kicks off his shoes, too tired to care if they land strewn across the floor.

“how was your night?” 

“i need a drink.” he chuckles, his footsteps receding into the kitchen to assuage his desire.  “do you want one?”

he had never offered you a drink before.  of course, you’re of age - it was just uncommon, given your position in his family.  

“i, uh…” you stumble over your words.  “sure.  please.  it’s been a long day.”

“i hope gabriella didn’t give you much trouble.”  the crackling sound of ice breaking under an expensive scotch drifts from the kitchen.

“no, she was great.  she just… she missed you.”

the words unspoken scream that you did as well, but you ignore them.  it was delusional to think of him that way, but you couldn’t help yourself for that split second.  it was rare to spend more than ten minutes with him when you helped him out with nannying - there was no reason for you to feel such an emotion.

“yeah… i missed her too.”

some underlying meaning laces his choice of words.  the sound of his footsteps alert you to his presence before he reaches over the couch from behind you to offer you the glass.  you jump slightly, but accept it.  he sits heavily next to you, the couch creaking under his sudden weight.  you both take a heavy sip of the drink.  it slightly burns your throat, but you manage to choke it down anyway.

you’re aware of his identity, as it was necessary to be privy to such matters when taking care of his daughter.  you had detailed protocols to follow in case of such emergencies and the like, but that didn’t mean that you would ask about his mission.  you assumed the subject was off limits, and that strategy kept you in good graces with the man.  instead, he asks you about how the end of your school was, if there was any issue in securing an apartment for the next semester, mundane things and the like.

you answer all of his questions politely.  as much as you want to inquire about his missions, you refrain from doing so. he finishes his drink in no time, asking if you’d like another.  you eye your drink then finish the whole thing, handing the empty glass back to him.

you swear he mutters “good girl” under his breath.  it makes your stomach churn in a way you could have never imagined.

when he sits next to you with the drinks refreshed, it’s much closer.  you feel the heat radiating off his body.  the alcohol begins to course through your veins, and you can’t control the way your body easily gravitates toward him.  you struggle against the muffling feeling, struggle to keep control of your body that so badly wants to be pressed against his.

“oh, did i make a mistake?” he murmurs when he notices your proximity.  “want me to order you an uber?”

“no, no, mr. o’hara.” you shake off his offer.  “i’m okay.  thank you though.”

he pauses, swishing the alcohol in the glass before downing it swiftly.  “in that case, i’m gonna go shower.  you can leave if you’d like, or you can strip down naked and wait for me in bed.”

so i can finally fucking ravage you is the ending that he wishes to add, but he doesn’t want to scare you.

you’re taking a sip as he speaks, nearly spitting your drink out at his proposition.  however, you keep your composure and say nothing as he finishes his drink in one swift gulp and gets up from the couch, leaving a shivering feeling through your skin.

the second he leaves earshot, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. 

you’re fucked.

it’s like he knows the way you look at him in those minute moments when he leaves and returns from work. it’s like he knows that you continuously brag to your friends about how handsome he was.  it’s like he knows that you’ve said countless times that you’d jump him if you were ever given the chance.

but that was all just a silly little crush.  you never imagined that he would actually give you the opportunity.

he’d made you an offer you’d be downright stupid to refuse.

which is how you end up splayed in his bed, the cool air of the bedroom chilling your skin.  it was the obvious choice.  your chest rises and falls with anticipation.  the hopes of the man following through with his lewd offer brings on an ever-quickening heart rate.  you adjust your position again and again, hoping that each following pose will please him more than the last and help assuage the nervous feeling gnawing in your gut.

just as you chose the simple option to lay back against the pillows with your legs folded delicately together to one side, the shower turns off.  miguel doesn’t even bother drying off before he emerges from the bathroom in a dramatic billow of steam, wet gray-streaked hair tumbling into his face.  small droplets of water roll off his naked body and splatter against the floor.  the musky scent of his body wash hits your nose.  it makes you dizzy.  combined with the sight of him and the heavy alcohol rushing through your bloodstream, you’re completely susceptible to whatever plans he has in store.  you lose your breath at the sight of his tan, toned body approaching you.

“get on your hands and knees.”  the way he commands you is almost a detached sigh.  you don’t hesitate to obey, however.  without thinking, you get up from the position to poise yourself at the end of the bed in the way he ordered.  your heart speeds up, pounding against your ribcage.  this position already?  skipping to the main event?  you aren’t complaining, just surprised.

that feeling of surprise continues when you hear his knees heavily drop to the floor and his hands cup the globes of your ass and spread them apart.  the cold air hits that warm center and you gasp.  you gasp because the feeling is surprising and his lips press between your folds and you gasp because he groans so deeply at the first taste of you.

you’re fucked.

he takes no time to begin diving into every inch of your cunt.  you clutch at the bedsheets, wincing at the cold droplets from his hair running down the back of your thighs.

“mr… mr. miguel.”  you squeak, unable to muster up the brainpower to say anything else.  he works like it’s necessary for him to keep breathing, like he can’t wait to do anything else, like he’s starving, and you’re the first meal he’s come across in days.  

“is this okay?”  he finally pulls back, drawing a gasp from your lips at the cold air hitting that warm place again.  “just can’t… fuck… hold myself back.”

you make the mistake of craning your neck to meet his eyes at his panting candor.  his face just barely hovers above your ass, hands still spreading you apart.  you gulp at the sight of the shimmer of your essence on his lips.  he pants heavily, broad shoulders heaving with the force of his breath.  his eyes are gleaming, his pupils blown out with lust.  he looks fucking crazy, hair tumbling into his face.

you can feel your face heat up at the sight of him, feel your expression fall as you acknowledge again and again and again: you’re fucked.

a nod is all you can manage to urge him to continue.  you turn around and focus on the shiny silk pillows to ground yourself, bracing for the impact.

he merely grunts and dives back between your legs, splattering the last few drops remaining from his dewy skin onto you.  it takes everything in you not to collapse when he begins working with an increased fervor.  apparently, your words gave him great encouragement, as he intensified the movements, even daring to remove his lips from your folds to plant heavy, open-mouthed kisses on the backs of your thighs - and even daring to nip at the sensitive skin. 

before you know it, you sink down into the comforter, fingers whitening in a death grip on the sheets for support.  miguel doesn’t seem to notice - he’s too lost in the feeling of the increasing warmth on his tongue, of the blood rushing to where your body deems it to be.

just as you’re about to finish, he pulls back.  it draws a whimper from you, but before you can utter a word of complaint, he straightens up and begins to rub his length between the sticky wetness that welcomes him.  you whimper at the feeling, pushing your hips back against him as an invitation inside.  he wastes no time in accepting, pushing into you once he’s amply coated. 

your eyes bulge out of your head and you cry out a stilted moan as he doesn’t stop - not until he’s fully sheathed in you.  you sink down fully into the mattress, only supported by his hands when they grasp your waist to hold your lower body upright.  the beginnings of claws begin to poke into the meat of your hips.  overwhelming feelings circulate through every part of your body.  your mind begins to fog over.  you can’t differentiate the feeling from the alcohol or the pleasure; they work in tandem.

he doesn’t waist time to begin thrusting into you, more surely than he’s done anything in his life.  the rhythm is slow, but deep, and it drives you over the edge in no time.  since he left you hanging from the ministrations of his mouth, the movements of his length deep within you shove you over the precipice of pleasure.

“miguel… please, don’t stop.”  you whimper.  your eyes roll into the back of your head and you feel a great weight press into your back.  his lips appear on the shell of your ear.

“don’t hold back for me, bunny,” is the whisper.  “let go.”

you do as you're told, whimpers muffled against the mattress as you give into the pleasure, squeezing and convulsing around his length.  he licks behind your ear before nibbling on the lobe, drawing an extended moan that takes your breath away.  you can’t muster up any words - no praise, no thanks.  just incoherent sounds that express the feelings that you can’t articulate with the onslaught of pressure.

"mi conejita..."

miguel continues to rut into you like a wild animal.  his body presses flush against your back as his hips move, only going deeper and deeper as he jerks them back and forth.  there’s no relief, no breaks you get from his demanding size, from his desire to puncture you deeper and deeper until he finds his own sense of relief.

just as you finish, you think there will be a moment in the trembling of your legs that miguel will spare you.  however, you’re wrong.  the feeling of you constricting around him ignites a new passion in him, one that results in his lips meeting your neck, your shoulders, your back - one that draws his teeth into your skin.

a gasp escapes at the feeling of him nibbling on that sensitive skin, of the feeling of his hips continuing to mercilessly ram into yours.  you don’t want him to stop.  your hands clutch as the sheets, begging for some stability from the bed, but it doesn’t come.

instead, miguel’s hands wrap around your chest to pull you up as he straightens up.  his grip tigthens as you settle pressed against his sweating, heavily chest.  when you’re secured, his hands begin to move.  first and foremost, they grab your chin to face him and without hesitation, his lips crash against yours.  his fingers squeeze your jaw to pry it open and his tongue shoves down your throat.  you whimper against him.  he eats the sound whole.

his hands don’t stop once they leave your chin, trusting that your lips won’t leave his.  they reach down to pinch and pull your nipples, wander down to rub slow circles into your poor overstimulated clit.  the sound of his hips slapping against your raw skin is overwhelming, you can’t help but lean back into his chest for support, his tongue still craving the inside of your mouth.  he grunts in surprise when you start to suck his tongue desperately.  the sound simmers in his chest as he chuckles.

“you’re gonna be the death of me, little girl.”

you find yourself smiling, find yourself squeezing him as he moves inside, threatening to tear your insides apart.

“fuck,” he moans into your mouth.  “christ, you’re tight.”

you moan and whine into his mouth, and he devours those sounds as well.  the vibrations only spur him forward, only egg him on to continue ramming his hips into your body.  his fingers rub unceasingly against your increasingly sensitive clit.

“i’m gonna-” you manage to slur around his overpowering tongue and teeth.  “i’m gonna cum again.”

he groans, lowly and long.  it’s a lewd sound, one that sends all the heat from your body straight down between your legs.  it’s an encouragement, one that sends you over the edge within a split second.  you moan, legs shaking as you begin to collapse onto the bed again.  you can’t help the weakness, can’t help the fact that your legs turn to jelly as he rams into you with want and need that you can’t even begin to fathom.

you squeal as a fresh spurt of juices flow from your cunt, flow around his length, and down your inner thighs.

he swears again at the sensation of liquid beginning to run down his length, trickling down his own legs.  “shit… shit… i-i need that.  i need you to do that again.”

he pants and pulls out.  you gasp at the empty feeling, but he doesn’t give you much time to process it fully before he lays down on the bed and snatches your waist, pulling you over to align your hips with his face.  before you can utter a word of objection or acceptance, he yanks you into his face, burying himself in the warm grave of your cunt.

you throw your head back and moan weakly, tired and overstimulated from the last orgasms, but he doesn’t stop.  his ministrations are unyielding, even when you plant your hands against his hips to steady yourself.  his hard length stands in front of you, just barely out of reach of your mouth.  you can’t help yourself from drooling at the sight, of precum spilling from the tip and mixing with your juices that still dribble down the veins.

you try to move forward, but he pulls your hips back stubbornly, shoving his tongue into you.  you whimper, opting you reach your hand out to wrap around and pump his length until you can get your mouth on the impressive sight.  he slows as he realizes what you want to do.  he knows how much bigger he is than you.  he slides up the pillows to sit up, closing the distance between you and your prize until your lips suckle on the tip, drawing a hiss from him.  as if an attempt to silence the sound, his teeth sink into your asscheck.

“fuck,” you groan as the teethmarks in your skin join the bitemarks he left on your neck, back, and shoulders, still fresh and throbbing.  you attempt to shake off the feeling and start to bob your mouth up and down on his length, drooling over the musky taste of his precum when your tongue trails down the base, every vein drawn like a map under your tongue.

he doesn’t let you indulge yourself for long before he jerks your hips back against his face once more, drawing your mouth from his length with a soft pop.  you moan in indignation, attempting to lunge back to continue your work.  however, miguel’s grip on your hips, the nails beginning to dig in the muscles, successfully stops you.

instead, you pump down his shaft, hoping that you’re pleasing him as much as he’s pleasing you.  another wave of pleasure rolls over you, and you can’t help but whine at the vibration of miguel’s moans as he gulps down the juices that flow heartily from your center.  his dick twitches in your palm.

“please…” you whimper.  “please fuck me… please…”

“no” is the simple answer.  “you’re cumming on my face, mi conejita.” 

your cheeks heat at his unashamed lewdness, at how he so easily expresses his desire for you.  how long had he been feeling his way?  how long had he wanted to ravish you like this?  he seems so resigned to his desires that he just can’t help himself anymore.

he gets his wish soon enough, pulling you so far onto him that his nose dips into your entrance, triggering an explosion of pleasure within you.  he groans as your legs begin to shake around his face, as you give up on pumping his shaft because you can’t focus on anything else but not losing your mind at how good he makes you feel. 

miguel doesn’t give you a reprieve in his agenda, slapping your ass twice to signal a position change before you can even catch your breath.

“get up,” he growls, and you obey.  he pushes you down on the bed in his place - the pillows are still warm from where he sat, still damp from the juices running freely down his face and jawline to soak the sheets.  without hesitation, he grips your calves and throws them over his shoulders.  you’re completely powerless underneath him when he pushes into you fully, not waiting a split second to begin ramming into you, even deeper than before.

it’s nearly unbearable, especially when he grabs your wrists, crosses them with a single hand, and holds them over your head before his lips crash onto yours.  your moans pour into his mouth, and he takes them without a second thought, returning them with equal fervor.  each pound of his hips forces water droplets from his damp hair onto your shaking body.  the way he presses down into you, the way the weight of him presses your thighs against your chest, the stretch aching, the opening angle of your hips for him to ram deeper into your warmth… it’s too much.

tears bead at the corners of your eyes when you open them to find him watching your face, even as he’s shoving his tongue down your throat.  you feel the corners of his mouth turn up into a smile at the sight of you so weak with want, with desire.  he looks fucking feral.

he pulls back, watching your reaction as he turns his head to press sloppy kisses to your calves, nipping at the skin.  welting bumps appear under his mouth, like he’s decorating you in just the fashion he likes.  when he’s finished, his lips crash onto yours again.  he doesn’t stop, doesn’t show mercy, not even when you’re babbling for him to continue, to push you over the edge once more.

“i gotta…” he pants, finally drawing back from your lips to examine your whole body shaking against the rough motion of his hips bulldozing into you.  a single line of spit still joins your lips.  “i gotta taste you still… fuck.”

he thinks for a moment before his fingers dive between your folds, gathering an ample amount of essence before he raises them to your mouth, spreading the liquid across your lips.  you can barely function at the lewd sight, even when he presses his fingers into your mouth, leading your tongue to swish around them and lap up every last drop.  his face contorts when your lips close around his digits, sucking his digits dry.

his mouth crashes against yours, exploring every bud in your mouth with renewed fervor at the flavor of your cunt all throughout your mouth.  you realize he had let go of your hands and you use the freedom to latch your nails into his back, clawing it to ribbons.  he thrusts into you with refreshing vigor, spurred by the satisfaction of your taste, at your nails sinking into his skin, and the warm, pulsing feeling of your cunt around his length at the same time.  he doesn’t last long, doesn’t make it much more time before he moans and whimpers into your mouth, warm cum spilling into you.  he removes his mouth from your kiss bitten lips and opts to bite into your neck, so hard you’re afraid you’ll bleed - but it’s enough to send you tumbling over the edge with him.  but it doesn’t matter, not when he’s groaning against you, fucking the last bit of himself into you, slowing his hips more and more.

when he’s finally finished, you squeeze your arms around him, removing your nails from his skin, welcoming him an embrace for him to collapse into.  he accepts the invitation graciously, his full weight pressing upon you as your legs fall from their position on either side of his hips.

he sighs into your neck, into the satisfying feeling of his cum beginning to ooze from your warmth, down your ass, spilling onto the bed.  there’s a few moments of wordlessness, the only sound echoing the room is breathless panting.

“well, consider this payment for watching gabi tonight?”

you laugh at his offhanded comment that breaks the silence and press a kiss onto his heaving shoulders.

“no, i’m still expecting the same rate.”

“in this economy?  times are changing, sweetheart.”  he raises his head to meet your eyes as you laugh.  “i hear this is the new salary.  don’t tell me you’re that opposed.”

“i’m not… of course not.”  you laugh nervously.  he chuckles at the sight of you getting so flustered.  he swiftly rises, pulling out of you so fast that you barely have time to process it before he gets warm rags and towels from the bathroom.

he comes back and kisses your forehead gently, wiping the residue of the wild night from your body.  it’s a tender gesture, one that you didn’t expect from the rugged creature.  however, it’s not unwelcome.

“well, if you’d like to stick with me, i’m sure there will be some benefits in the future, if you’re willing to stay on.”  he pauses and grins.  “and it’ll be nice to have you here in bed in case i get called out in the middle of the night. you always sound so pissed at me when i call to wake you up.”  

he dries off your wet skin with a towel before letting all of the material fall to the ground, forgotten.  his body curls around you, the overwhelming size and warmth of him surrounding you.

you smirk, letting out a giggle at the continuation of the joke, heat pooling in your cheeks from the easy closeness he pursues with you.  “of course, mr. o’hara.  i don’t think anyone else could match such a wonderful deal.”

divider by: @/ffffffaatality

@dilftaroooo come n get it !

© all work belongs to poursomesunaonme. do not copy and repost. likes, comments & reblogs are always appreciated !

#miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x you #miguel o'hara x you #tw age gap #🪐beanie writes!

[sophierequests]

i have a request, my love! nikolai lantsov x reader

y/n is the sunshine-y, sweet person who literally brightens up any room. and she caught nikolai's eye and he tries to make his move but everytime he tries to talk to her he finds himself... well, unable to get proper words out. he can't string together a single sentence. y/n picks up on this and teases him ('cause he's obviously known as a flirt) and makes it a bit harder before she finally asks him out herself

you take my breath away

Navigation┃Main Masterlist┃Request

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x f!Reader

A/N: *screams because this is such a cute idea* Omg omg omg, I LOVE THAT IDEA, EL! Nikolai being nervous and flustered >>> Thank you sm for the request, I loved writing it! I hope you enjoy reading this <333

Summary: What happens to the oh so charming Nikolai Lantsov when he starts crushing on a someone that - quite literally - takes away his breath?

Genre: Comedy, Fluff

Word Count: 4.4K

Warnings: Mention of sword fighting, pining, oblivious!Nikolai, slightly suggestive ending if you squint, Zoya being an icon

“Zoya, I really don’t think that all of this,” he ambiguously gestured at the array of files in front of him, “is as good of an idea as you think it is.”

The Squaller groaned, hauling the papers towards herself again. The two of them had been wasting their time in his sitting room for hours on end, flipping through files and files of eligible royal women that could become Nikolai’s future wife. It was hell - for both of them - but Ravka needed a queen. So as king, it was his duty to find someone that could rule alongside him.

If he would be completely truthful, he already had someone in mind. Someone that was roughly his age, not promised to anyone else and of royal blood. Meaning, that someone would tick all of the necessary boxes.

You were one of the rather newer Ladies at Ravkan court. Your parents were a duke and duchess who he didn't necessarily remember meeting. Yet, ever since he first laid his eyes on you, he was absolutely smitten with you. You'd be an excellent choice. He really liked to think that. You got along with everyone you interacted with - at least to his knowledge -, you were kind, well-spirited and utterly lovely. You were a literal ray of sunshine, and he couldn’t get enough of you. It was almost like you were born to be a queen - his queen.

Everything seemed to be so perfect. The only issue was that he couldn't even get out one word before his brain went into shutdown when you were around. He had tried and tried to strike up a conversation with you, only to fail miserably. It was as if all of his usually flirty demeanour had been stripped off of him, and he was left with the confidence of an insecure stuttering teenage boy. He had been with countless women before but never had he been left this helpless.

The first time he attempted talking to you, was probably already enough of an embarrassment for you to never give in to any of his advances.

Nikolai had just finished another terribly draining conference and, as much as tried to get his mind off of all things political, he still had another dreadful load of paperwork waiting for him once he reached his sitting room.

He has been so lost in thought, that he didn't register the other person that was coming around the corner. And with both of you not paying any real attention to where you were going, you ran straight into him at full speed. But before he could - quite literally - knock you off of your feet, his arms wrapped around your waist, keeping you steady. It took you a minute to break free from your daze when you noticed who you were currently staring at.

"Oh Saints! Your Highness! I'm so incredibly sorry. I should have watched where I was going." You apologized profusely, taking a step back to give him a bit more personal space.

"Don't apologize, it's fine!" He started grinning like a fool after he realized who he was talking to. Your hair looked slightly out of place - probably a side effect from almost toppling over - but somehow, you still managed to look absolutely magnificent. His heart couldn’t help but skip a beat while he watched a faint blush rise to your cheeks.

And when a wide smile began to grace your lips, he almost thought that he would pass out. In a treacherous motion, he could feel that his own cheeks started to warm up now. How he hated this.

"Oh, thank you, Your Highness! I have just been so lost in thought that I didn't watch where I was going."

"Please, it's call me- I mean, please call me Vas- Nikola! Nikolai. Please call me Nikolai." Well done, he couldn't even introduce himself correctly anymore.

"Alright Nikolai," you let the name roll over your tongue slowly as if you were trying to savour its taste, "I'm not one for titles either, so feel free to call me Y/N." He wanted to answer, to say or do pretty much anything else, instead of just gaping at you as if you had grown a second head.

You had expected him to offer you a cheeky comment or a flirtatious smirk in response, but the cogs in his brain still seemed to process your words. It was odd, and not at all what you had expected. You had heard stories about the smug and cocky Ravkan king, who was never too shy to hand out brash compliments or whisper promiscuous promises into the ears of any young woman that would give him more than one minute of her time. The man standing in front of you seemed to be anything but that.

Before you could open your mouth to break the uncomfortable silence, a voice calling out his name and the clicking of heels could be heard coming from the corridor right next to him.

"Nikolai? Nikolai! Did you forget that we still have some correspondence to take care of today?" A slightly agitated Zoya came into view, eying you from head to toe, however, still giving you a polite nod.

"I should better get going. I didn’t mean to keep you from your work, Nikolai. Enjoy yourselves!” You gave him one last smirk before turning on your heels and continuing your way down the corridor.

“Thank you!” He didn’t even know what exactly he was thanking you for. “Have a great evening!” Zoya stifled a snort when she heard that.

“Nikolai, it’s not even time for lunch yet. The poor girl will think that she’s the one going crazy.” She remarked, her eyes drifting from watching you leave to Nikolai’s still mildly flustered state. She’d definitely remember this.

“Why don’t you just marry Lady Y/L/N? She fits the criteria, she probably doesn’t plan to strangle you in your sleep, and you seem to have found quite the liking in her. That’s probably the best choice you have.” Zoya exclaimed, falling back into her chair as she continued to stare Nikolai down.

“I can’t.”

“And the reason for that is…? You need to give me more than that. I may be extremely lucky to have this many talents, but mind reading sadly isn’t one of them.”

“Keeping secrets isn’t really one of your many talents either, Zoya.” Nikolai averted his gaze, thinking that looking through another mountain of profiles would be way more comfortable than having to explain why he didn’t think that courting you would be possible.

“Lantsov, you’re not getting any younger, and you’re sure as hell not getting any prettier, no matter how long you’re trying to postpone this. Just tell me, and we can move on!” She was seconds away from tossing his royal ass out of the window but getting thrown in prison for the murder of the literal king wasn’t too desirable.

“I’m certain that she believes me to be an absolute fool.” The young king sighed, hiding the embarrassment on his face with one hand.

“Many people do. It would surprise me if your future wife wouldn’t think of you as such.”

“No, no, you don’t understand. I can’t even formulate one coherent sentence whenever she is around, and it is driving me mad! Whenever I attempt to make a move on her, every single logical thought abandons the ship and leaves me gaping like a fish on land.” He mumbled defeatedly. “She has to assume I’m just looking for an excuse not to be around her.”

This time, Zoya didn’t hold back the laugh she had been holding in. She didn’t know what she expected, but this definitely wasn’t it.

“Won’t you look at that? Ravka’s Sweetheart gets all hot and bothered in the presence of a girl he likes.” She took a sip from the glass of wine she was holding before returning her attention to a sulking Nikolai. “She’s the most suitable choice, Nikolai. Keep on pursuing her, until you’re one hundred per cent sure that she isn’t worth it. And maybe she thinks your nervousness is endearing? That would be a bit pathetic, but that seems to be your type.”

Apparently, Zoya also seemed to have a gift for clairvoyance, because her last two statements held more truth than she had envisioned.

You had picked up on Nikolai’s odd behaviour whenever he was around you quite soon after that first hallway encounter. At first, you thought that there had to be something wrong with you. How else could it be explained that you were the only girl at court he just couldn’t hold a conversation with? But soon enough you realized that it wasn’t apprehension, but genuine fluster that made him act like this. And it felt terrible admitting it, but you enjoyed using this information against him.

It had been three days since your last brief encounter with the king, and your mind was putting your quest of teasing him on the back burner. That was until you silently crept into the library of the Grand Palace, only to find him hunched over a heap of books, occasionally taking notes or letting out a huffed breath.

“Nikolai?” You mused, sauntering over to him with an innocent smile on your lips. The blond had to do a double-take when he saw you appear from behind the shelves. Saints, someone should really open a window.

“Lad- Y/N!” He gave you a strained smile, slyly straightening his back and smoothing out his sleeves. Did his hair sit properly? Did his breath smell? Did he-

“What are you doing here this late?” You leaned against the desk opposite Nikolai, your upper body slightly bent over the table, very visibly accentuating your cleavage. You really would be the death of him.

He haggled for the right words to say, but everything inside his mind screamed at him to abort the mission. He wasn’t ready to talk. Not when the two of you were completely alone, and you looked like a literal Saint.

“Reading.” He forced out, immediately regretting that he even opened his mouth.

“Oh?” You asked quizzically, rounding the table to stand beside him, giving yourself a better look at the books in front of him. One of your hands rested on the backrest of his chair - dangerously close to touching his neck or playing with his hair - and the other hand laid on the edge of the desk. “What are you reading?” You could have just turned the book around to see for yourself, but you were set on toying with him for a bit.

“Ravkan and Fjerdan poeti- political relationships.” He had to stifle a cough after he felt the soft breeze of your breath hit his neck. You were close. Very close.

“Care for some company?” Nikolai’s eyes met yours as he considered the possibility of having you stay here. He would probably get nothing done, but he had the chance to finally make a move. That’s what he imagined, at least.

“Gladly.”

“Very well then.” That’s all you needed to hear before pulling out your own novel and sitting down in the chair right next to him.

As he had already suspected, he couldn’t even get through one page without allowing his eyes to wander towards you. And whenever he caught himself doing so, he had already forgotten what he had read only mere seconds before. He knew that you were quite literally just trying to read your book, but even that simple gesture made his heart beat a thousand times faster.

“Oh dear!” You uttered after taking a quick glance at the grandfather clock in the corner. “I’ve been in here for almost three hours! I should really leave you alone now, Nikolai. I still have a few duties to fulfil.” A faint chuckle left your lips, as you finished speaking, watching the man next to you gawk at the clock in disbelief. Three hours had passed, and he had neither finished any of his work nor managed to ask you out. Maybe he should allow Zoya to kill him. He supposed that death would be more welcoming than whatever little spiel fate had concocted for him.

There were two more instances of you absolutely giving him hell. And oddly, both of them included a territory that he should’ve had the upper hand in. The training grounds.

Nikolai wasn’t too keen on wasting any thought about sparring or other physical activities today. But staying inside the Palace would result in Zoya berating him about finally choosing a wife, so he preferred prancing around with a sword for a few hours.

However, his attention was promptly seized by hearing a burst of loud wholehearted laughter coming from the direction of the archery area. Without thinking, he allowed himself to take a look at whatever was going on over there.

He watched you talking to one of the archery instructors, a wide smile on your face as you excitedly listened to her while she explained something to you. You looked like some sort of mythical creature out of a folksong and he couldn’t help but smile at that thought.

Something inside him told him to move and before he could even start considering all of the negative outcomes of that thought, he already began walking towards you.

“Your Highness!” The woman next to you gave him a curt nod as she noticed him approaching. You felt a grin tug at the corners of your lips as you saw who she was greeting.

“Good afternoon, may I ask what is going on here?” Nikolai tried his best to not let his gaze wander over to you. He was sure that if he’d spend too much time looking at you, he would lose his capacity to form sentences again.

“I was just about to teach Lady Y/L/N how to properly shoot an arrow. She seems to be rather interested in the craft, but I sadly don’t have too much time today to show her everything.” The teacher rasped, letting her fingers run over the wooden part of the bow.

“As I mentioned earlier, I can also come back another ti-”

“I could show you.” Both of your gazes instantly flicked over to the young king, who was currently cursing himself for not being able to just shut up. Now he had to run with it.

“Are you sure?” You asked softly, raising an eyebrow to underline your question. “You don’t have to. I assume you’re terribly busy.”

“No, I, uhm, I insist.” He reassured, taking the bow from the instructor and signalling to her that he would take over now.

Only when he thought about what he was actually supposed to do, he started to realize what he had gotten himself into.

“Archery is a delicate skill.” He began, handing you the bow and arrow. “Everything stands and falls with how adept your aim is.” You took the arrow and adjusted it on the bowstring, imitating the posture you had seen many times before. Nikolai stood behind you, carefully monitoring your moves, whilst also trying not to get overwhelmed by your closeness. “Try to, you know, uhm, aim. Aim for the heart, I mean.” Saints, he sounded stupid.

“Like this?” You asked smugly, leaning back a bit closer to him and roughly pointing the arrow in the direction of the training puppet’s chest.

“No, you need- you have to-” He took a deep breath, stepping even closer to you now. “Look.” Both his hands found their way to yours. One helped you steady your grip on your bow, while the other corrected your aim ever so slightly. Your skin felt like lightning underneath his fingertips, and for a moment, he was glad that he could simply visualize his thoughts without having to embarrass himself by being a stuttering mess.

He pulled the arm that held onto the arrow back a bit, permitting you to shoot. However, he completely underestimated your proximity, especially the proximity to your elbows. Whether that was because of his lack of archery mentorship experience or simply because he was too focused on you was something he didn't want to answer. As soon as you let go of the arrow, your elbow flew back, right into his chest with full force, causing him to stumble backwards.

“Nikolai!” You yelped, cringing at the sight of the violently coughing blond behind you. This was not how any of you had hoped this would turn out. "Saints, are you alright!?"

“Good shot." He choked out as you hastily dropped the bow to help him stand. Against all odds, the arrow had gone straight into the centre of the target, however, you had other worries to tend to.

"Did I hurt you?" Your hands held on tightly to the fabric of his sleeves, fearing that one measly blow might have managed to knock the air right out of him.

"Fine. I mean, I'm fine." He sputtered, admittedly distracted by the feeling of your hands on his biceps. Your touch was practically scorching his skin without even having to make skin contact. He was definitely going insane.

"We really should stop making violence the climax of our interactions."

This wouldn't ring true, of course.

The next time you ventured down to the makeshift training grounds a few days later, you were met with the sight of Nikolai and Tolya practising their sword fighting skills. You kept an eye on them for a while before actually venturing down to the men.

It was as if Nikolai could sense your presence because as soon as you stepped closer to the platform, his gaze met yours. This brief distraction gave Tolya enough time to deliver one heavy swing to the base of his sparring partner's sword, disarming him in the blink of an eye.

Nikolai stared at the discarded sword and then back up at the Shu man in front of him. He rarely ever lost these kinds of duels, especially not because of some minor mistake like losing his focus. Things such as the size or competence of his opponent didn't matter substantially, since he had the advantage of being quick on his feet and the knowledge on how to outsmart the majority of his competition. Only losing because you were around seemed to be another act of fate telling him that he wasn't able to function properly when you were around.

"Lady Y/L/N." The mountain of a man greeted you happily, curtly shaking hands with Nikolai before walking off to bother his sister and her wife.

Again, the king seemed to have a frog stuck in his throat. He just couldn't get a word to leave his mouth. Instead, he continued to ogle at you with a hint of humiliation flashing over his features.

This time barely anyone could really blame him for that though. Your usually bright and well-put-together wardrobe, consisting of colourful dresses or professional-looking robes, we're now replaced by the suitable training attire one would expect a Lady to frown at.

Unable to string a coherent sentence together, he raised his eyebrows, vaguely motioning up and down your body with the hope that you would understand his unsaid question. Saints, he really felt stupid.

"Cat got your tongue, Nikolai?" You laughed, skipping up the stairs to face him properly. If your eyes weren't trying to deceive you, you could have sworn that he was blushing when you approached him. "Or did my utterly enchanting appearance simply take away your breath?" He gave you an unintelligible answer before just nodding in defeat.

“It’s just that, uhm, Lady- I mean, it’s just not wh-” He attempted futilely, but you were quick to cut him off.

“I know, I know. This flattering article of clothing is not really what people would expect me to wear. But I thought it would be nice to get some training done, or else my joints might begin to rust.”

“Training?” Nikolai blurted out, utterly bewildered. It wasn’t entirely unusual for the women at court to receive some sort of self-defence training - not all royal men were as decent as he was - but it was pretty unlikely for them to indulge in actual combat training.

“I used to sword fight with my older brothers whenever I had the time to do so. I’m not particularly good at it though.” That was a slight lie. You didn’t necessarily look the part, but in reality, you were talented when it came to dealing with a sword. However, that was a fact you’d rather keep to yourself, not wanting others to see you as brash or brutish.

“Oh.” He grinned, a new idea on how to get over his nervousness popped into his head. Maybe a nice little training session would do your relationship some good.

“Oh?”

“Do you, uhm, want me to- Would you like me to train with you?” He internally patted himself on the shoulder for finally managing to string together one mildly coherent sentence. And he could pat himself on the shoulder once more when he noticed the playful nature of your expression.

“If you dare.” You teased, picking up the discarded sparring sword off of the ground.

Both of you readied yourselves - you giving him a short bow before taking the position across from him. With the motion of a hand, he signalled to begin, being quick to do so.

His first move was bold, way too bold for it to actually be effective. You parried his blow with an agile countermove, warding him off strongly enough to force him to take a step back. This dance continued for a while longer, with only a few attacks actually coming from you, while you were mainly busying yourself with fighting off his advances.

There was one move you weren’t able to fight off.

He had only retracted his hand for a split second before he sprang forward again, a fierce blow disarming you immediately. However, that wasn’t the end of it. You could’ve still reached for the weapon, but he quickly blocked that move with his own, putting the unsharpened blade to your throat and pulling you against his chest. None of that was done with any real force, but his brashness still managed to catch you slightly off-guard.

You didn’t let allow him to bathe in his supposed victory any more than needed. If he wanted to play dirty, so could you. You cocked your head to the side just enough to face him. He was already slightly overwhelmed by you being pinned against his chest, so you knew that any sense of flirtatiousness coming from you, would make his brain go into shutdown.

It took you one cheeky wink to make him gape at you again. So without thinking about it, your foot slid behind his, abruptly bringing it forward to make him lose balance. He stumbled for a moment before clumsily falling backwards, however, also taking you down with him.

With a groan coming from Nikolai, you tumbled right on top of him, staying on his chest for a second to catch your breath. When you dared to open your eyes, your face was only inches from his. If either of you had decided to be especially bold, you would have probably finally put each other out of your self-imposed misery. However, neither of you dared to do so.

You barely saw him the following week. Which shouldn’t have been such a bad thing if the failed training session from the week prior wasn’t so engrained in both of your minds. You wanted to see him. No, you needed to see him. It was time to end your teasing spree - even though you did thoroughly enjoy it - and make the first move. Because Saints know whether Nikolai would ever have it in him to ask you out himself.

“Nikolai?” You cracked open the door to his sitting just enough to look inside. His eyes snapped to meet yours, the previous tiredness vanishing from his chestnut-coloured eyes. He gave you an inviting nod, and you accepted his offer gracefully.

“Lady Y/N- Lady- I mean-” He cut himself off, pinching the bridge of his nose before taking a deep breath. “Listen, I’m sorry, this, this is starting to get embarrassing. It’s just that-”

“I know.” You stopped him in his ramblings, only leaving him with a confused expression.

“You know?” He took a sharp breath, suddenly feeling as if a rug had been pulled from beneath his feet.

“You haven’t been that subtle over the last few weeks, so yes, Nikolai. I know that you have feelings for me.” You watched as his face went through at least a hundred emotions, ranging from relief to shock.

“Wait,” He paused, his brows furrowed and mouth slightly agape. “You were aware of my feelings the entire time?”

“That’s what I’m implying.” Now he genuinely felt like an idiot.

“You did all of that teasing on purpose?”

“Well, I wouldn’t really call it teasing. I was just waiting for you to make the first move.” You gave him a playful wink, sitting down at the edge of his desk right in front of him in a last act of riling him up. “But I figured that I didn’t want to wait until I’m old and wrinkly, so I might as well take matters into my own hand.”

“Take matters into-” You didn’t allow him to finish, instead pressing a brash kiss against his lips. This could either go terribly wrong or terribly right.

Thankfully, Nikolai was ready to answer this question. All of a sudden, all of his nervousness seemed to have vanished into thin air. With a swift move, he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you off the desk and into his lap whilst returning the kiss with even more urgency. He didn’t regret not making the first move now. At last, there were no words left to be said.

“Does that mean that I can finally stop wasting my time looking for your future bride?” Zoya called into the room, almost causing you to fall off of his lap. “I suppose they won’t be needed anymore.”

Taglist:

Grishaverse in general: @yesshewrites1 @dal-light

Nikolai Lantsov: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @kaye-here @maximoffgxrl

#nikolai lanstov x reader #nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lantsov #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone #grishaverse #grishaverse x reader

[nosebleeds-247]

I would murder for some more Steve Raglan/William Afton content!!!

How Could I Say No?

Pairing- William Afton X New Employee! Reader

Description- William can’t help but tease his newest employee. Especially when she’s just so cute and oblivious to his advances.

Warnings- implied age gap, inappropriate boss/employee relationship, implied smut.

A/n- THANKS SM for the request! Please feel free to send me more because I need ideas fr. Also lmk if y’all want a part 2 :)

William was stood behind you, quietly looming over your shoulder as he watches you proceed with the task he had given you earlier. “Good afternoon, Y/N, how is everything coming along?” he asks.

You jump, obviously startled by his sudden appearance. “oh god, you scared me…but yes I’m good, everything’s good”

“Sorry about that," he chuckles softly, his voice warm and soothing despite the chill it carried. "I just wanted to check in on you." He leaned against the nearby desk, his gaze lingering on your flustered state.

“o-oh it’s alright sir, really.”

He quirks an eyebrow, his eyes seeming to glimmer with amusement. "You seem a bit flustered, Y/N." He said, his voice a rich baritone, low and smooth as silk against your skin. "Are you feeling alright?"

You smile up at him, trying to conceal your obvious attraction to the older man. “I’m perfectly fine, I think it’s just a bit warm in here.”

"Well I can fix that," he said, eyeing you up and down before reaching for the thermostat. His hand brushes against your side as he changes the temperature. Your face becomes an even brighter shade of red at the contact.

As the cool air begins to circulate, William turns back to face you, his gaze lingering on your flushed cheeks. "Better?" He asked, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

“Y-yes, way better already”

“Good," he said softly, his voice dropping an octave, almost a purr. You can feel his eyes on you, scrutinizing your every move. "Now," he began, leaning in closer, almost whispering to you, "I have a proposition for you."

“Yes?”

"I have noticed that you have been working incredibly hard, and I appreciate that. In fact, I find it quite impressive." He takes a step closer, his body closer to yours. "I was wondering if perhaps you would be interested in being rewarded for your hard work...in private."

“what are you implying…?”

"Oh, I think you know what I'm implying," he said with a smirk, his hand finding its way to your lower back, "I think you're interested too."

You stand frozen at his forwardness, not sure how to respond. Is this some sort of test?, you think to yourself.

William chuckled softly, his hand moving up to rest on your nape, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against your skin. "Well?" he asked, leaning in closer still. "Do we have a deal?"

“Umm…s-sure”, you reply boldly.

Good girl," he purred, pulling you into a warm embrace. His body was firm against yours, and he could feel your heart racing against his chest. "After work, my office," he murmured against your ear, before letting you go with a final squeeze.

#fnaf movie #fnaf #x reader #five nights at freddy's #matthew lillard #josh hutcherson #steve raglan #william afton #purple guy

[blue-slxt]

Our Song Cord: Can't Help Falling

(Chapter 2)

🔞Minors Do Not Interact🔞

A/N: I know I said it was gonna be up this morning, but I got caught up with other shit lol. So here it is. Things start to heat up a little in this chapter. I have a soft spot for virgin characters. I think I just really identify with all the curiosity and nerves that come with discovering all this stuff lol. This is also one of the longest chapters I've ever written for anything. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy! Every chapter title is a song reference so if you know the song, you get a cookie. I really really appreciate feedback so comments and reblogs are heavily encouraged. All characters are aged up.

Series Masterlist

Previous Part | Next Part

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Warnings: Friends to Lovers, Cheating? (depends on how you look at it), Fingering, Oral (M receiving), Heat Cycle, Masturbation (briefly), I think that's all.

Word Count: 5.7k

Summary: You and Neteyam have mastered the basics and feel like it's time to move on to the next step.

For the next week or so, you and Neteyam continue with your “training” sessions. You never really go farther than what you’ve already done. You know, just to make sure you both really have it down. On more than a couple occasions, you had to explain away little purple marks that Neteyam would leave littered around your jaw, neck, and chest after getting carried away.

“Just got a little too rough while we were sparring.” You’d laugh it off when questioned.

“Neteyam, you need to learn how to pull some of your punches, skxawng!” Kiri would chide him.

Once you both feel like you have a real handle on what you’re doing, Neteyam tells you how he’s finally going to put all his practice to good use. He’s finally going to try making out with Layao. You send him off with an encouraging smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes and a sinking feeling in your gut, but still words of reassurance all the same. It was almost as if you were nervous for him. But there was no reason to be nervous. He was good, really good. Neteyam had mastered the art of making you breathless with just a kiss in a matter of no time. He really was a prodigy. He was going to completely sweep her off her feet, no question about it. But maybe, that was the reason for the nerves.

Still, his excitement as he recounted his eventful night with her was contagious.

“You should have seen me! I did it just like how we practiced. And she looked almost as pretty as you do when we were done.”

He may not have caught it, but you certainly did. Your brain can’t help but hyper-fixate on the use of the word ‘almost’, but you tuck that away into the background to mull over later. For now, you were listening to your best friend eagerly tell you all about his conquest while pushing away the growing nausea in your gut.

“That’s great, Teyam. I told you, you’re a natural.” You say offering him a genuine smile.

“Well, it’s not like I can take all the credit.” He says nudging your shoulder with his. A sheepish smile crosses your lips. “So, I was thinking that we should move on to more advanced stuff since we seem to have the basics down now, don’t you think?” he suggests.

It causes you to pause momentarily thinking about the more “advanced” interactions the two of you could have with each other. “O-oh, yea. Definitely. It’s like you read my mind.” You try to play it off as if your mind isn’t screaming at you right now.

“Great, then I will see you tonight.” His charming smile is almost too gorgeous to look at right now. There’s no way anyone could convince you that Neteyam wasn’t one of Eywa’s favorites.

…

“Alright, so what are we trying tonight?” you ask leaning your back against a nearby tree. Neteyam’s hands clenched and relaxed at his sides which he often did when he was nervous about something. Your own anxiety feeds off of his as your eyes watch him carefully and he tries to build up the courage to say his idea out loud.

“Well…we already have everything sorted out up top…” his hands quickly gesture to your chest and his eyes fall to look at the ground instead of your face. “S-so, I thought it might be time to move…you know…lower” his voice is basically a whisper by the time he finishes his sentence. Your legs instinctively squeeze together and you suddenly feel extremely vulnerable just even thinking about his hands down there. Neteyam seems to notice your slight change in posture. “We don’t have to, though, if you don’t feel ready to try that yet.” The words tumble out of his mouth so fast you would think it was all one long word.

“No no no, it’s fine. I’m just maybe a little nervous.” You admit letting your gaze follow his to the ground. Your ears fall to your head hoping the ground would swallow you to save you from this incredibly vulnerable feeling brewing in your chest. Neteyam takes a few steps towards where you were still perched against the tree until he was close enough to hold your face and make you look back up at him. His face was close enough for you to catch the faint reflection of your tanhì in his gorgeous honey-colored eyes.

“I’ll be gentle.”

You’re not sure if it’s the low tone of his voice dancing around your ears, the way his thumb stroked your cheek, or just the sheer proximity, but something had your body buzzing all over like a million bees.

“I know you will, Teyam. Just…kiss me first? To help ease me into it.” It’s incredibly embarrassing to ask for it, but right now, your want far outweighed your embarrassment.

His hand stays planted against your cheek when he leans in and kisses you. His body presses into yours and his other hand familiarly lands on your hip. You let your mind get lost in the moment. So lost that you don’t even feel when your own arms drape around his neck and hold him close to you. It’s as if your body is moving on its’ own carrying out your deepest desires without you needing to tell it what to do. Your legs part allowing his body to slot right into place. The throbbing between your thighs is growing by the second.

You take hold of his hand on your hip and move it lower to the waistband of your loincloth. Neteyam breaks the kiss to look down at his hand and then back at your face. You give the tiniest nod of your head to encourage him to continue and his fingers trail under your loincloth and come into direct contact with your core. His ears and eyebrows both shoot up feeling you for the first time.

“It’s so warm and slippery.” He says experimentally dragging his fingers through your folds.

“That’s how it’s supposed to be” you try to ignore the shakiness of your voice as it leaves your throat. “The most important part is the clit.” His fingers go still against you while he looks at you listening intently.

“It’s a small little nub near the top. It’s really sensitive and you’re going to want to really get familiar with it.” You explain feeling your face get hot.

He pulls his fingers forward until he reaches the little bud that makes you squeak when he presses against it. “That’s it.” A small smile crosses his lips momentarily before he speaks again.

“So, now what do I do?” “Well, everybody likes something different, but you usually can’t go wrong with just rubbing little circles into it.” You could really only speak from your own experience of nights that you had done this to yourself.

“Like this?” his finger harshly pushes against your clit and it makes you jump.

“A little softer. Not so much pressure, okay? It’s a really sensitive spot so you don’t want to do it too hard.”

He nods his head processing your advice. He lightens his touch and tentatively rubs circles around and around on your clit. Fuck, he was perfect at this already. After that one quick adjustment, his pressure and speed were nothing short of flawless. “Mmf…haah th-that’s good. Just like that…” your knees buckle under you and if it weren’t for the tree you were pressed against, you probably would’ve been on the ground already. Your head falls back to the tree and your eyes close silently praying that you could live in this moment that you’ve dreamt about countless times forever. Small mewls and moans pass your lips under his touch.

Neteyam is trying desperately to ignore the way his own dick is throbbing in his loincloth listening to the sounds you’re making. He does his best to ensure that he’s putting forth his best effort to make you feel good. And fuck, was he making you feel good. The pleasure overtakes any sense of logic that you may have been holding onto.

“M-more…”

Neteyam looks at you with eyelids already starting to hood his eyes.

“I…I want to feel you inside…” your cheeks burn saying it out loud, but it feels as if you might be devoured whole by your desire if you don’t feel him where your need is the strongest.

“Are you sure? I mean, you’re okay with—”

“Mhm…please, Teyam…”

His ears twitch in your direction at your sensual pleas and his dick twitches begging to be the one that fills you. He cautiously moves his fingers between your folds that were now dripping down his knuckles. When he reaches your entrance, he lightly probes at you with one of his fingers making you clench around nothing until he finally pushes inside. His jaw drops open feeling the way your walls suck his finger right in and envelope him in a feeling of slippery warmth.

It feels like your breathing stutters in your throat as his finger stretches you. His finger was so much bigger than your own and you’ve never been more aware of that fact than right now as he unintentionally pressed the pad of his finger against the spongey part of your walls.

“Mm!” you do your best to muffle your sounds

“Is this okay?” his voice conveys his concern, but his eyes hold only a lusty haze while they jump around from your eyes to your lips and chest and between your thighs that sat spread for him.

“Y-yea…now, just angle your finger towards the front and move in and out slowly.”

“Like this?” he slowly pulls his finger out just to the top knuckle and then sinks back in at just the angle you need.

“Ahh…yea, right there” You don’t mean for it to sounds as enticing as it comes out, but Neteyam can feel his self-restraint slipping away. He can’t stop himself from attaching his lips to their favorite spot on your neck and nipping little bites into your soft skin. His finger never stops thrusting up into you and your legs are starting to feel like jelly beneath you.

Your arms hold tight around his neck to help keep you upright. It’s almost automatic the way your leg hikes up around his waist to give his hand even more access to you.

“Nete~…” you call out completely not meaning to. You’ve never called him that name. The only people who called him that were girls in the clan hoping to catch his attention with their sweet voices and swishing tails. He always said it was embarrassing, but in this moment, hearing it roll off your lips, it makes him groan against your skin.

“Say it again…need…need to hear you…” his voice is breathy and his words broken between his heavy breathing that fans your jaw line as he continues kissing everywhere he can reach.

You weren’t expecting that kind of response, but you comply regardless.

“Nete…oh, Great Mother, I’m going to cum!” your body tightens its hold on him pressing his body right up against you hoping it’ll anchor you to this plane of existence. This was nothing like doing it to yourself and now you wonder how you’ve managed to go this long without the touch of another person. And you think that you never want to be without this feeling ever again.

His cheek is pressed right up against your own and his free hand gropes at your breast. It takes the last thread of his sanity to not scent you right now as he feels your impending climax threatening to strangle his finger right off his hand.

“Haah…go ahead, let me feel it.” His voice is right next to your ear sending shivers down your spine. Almost on command, the knot in your body snaps and you cum with trembling legs and a small, almost silent scream from your mouth. Your nails leave deep purple indents on his skin from where you’re holding onto him and even Neteyam lets out a small moan feeling your walls convulse around him as you ride out your high. His hands go still against you when you come down and he pulls his face back to look at you.

Looking up at Neteyam right now, you can’t seem to bring your brain to recognize him as your best friend that you’ve known since before you could remember, but instead, you see a gorgeous man hovering just inches away from your face who’s gazing down at you like he wants to give you the world and you want to let him.

Neither of you say a word when he carefully slides his finger out of you and holds his hand up to examine how his skin glistens in the moonlight covered in your slick that’s still trickling down his hand.

Neteyam isn’t sure what kind of compulsion came over him that moment, but with no hesitation, he brings his finger to his lips and licks it clean before you can find the words to protest. Your ears pin to your head but you feel physically unable to look away from him. He moans lowly at the taste of you on his finger.

“You taste sweet.”

Somehow, you are equal parts mortified and turned on. Your eyes want to fall to the ground, but they get distracted at the tenting of his loincloth. You let one of your hands fall from his shoulder to palm him through the fabric. He sucks in a sharp breath at the contact.

“You don’t have to do that.”

You look up at his face, “I want to.”

It takes a second for the implications of your words to really settle in your mind.

“I-I mean, I need to learn how to do this too, you know…” A lie. Truth was, you were so desperate to have him right now, you thought you might actually go insane. But of course, you’d never be able to tell that to him, you can barely even tell it to yourself.

There’s only a thick silence as Neteyam resigns himself to you and lets you undo the knot holding his loincloth around his hips. The fabric falls to the ground and…oh, fuck, Neteyam really was Eywa’s favorite. It’s not like you really knew what was considered average, but you had a general idea from the talk amongst the other girls in the clan. And Neteyam was far above average. Just something else to make him even more perfect.

You sink to your knees in front of him and Neteyam is simultaneously thankful for the dark so that you can’t see the flush of his cheeks, but he also curses it as it prevents him from seeing you clearly the way he really wants to right now.

“S-so, do I just…grab it?” you finally pull your eyes back up to his face waiting for him to guide you in what to do.

“Um, well, first, you should spit in your hand.” His voice is low, clearly embarrassed about explaining this kind of thing. You cock an eyebrow at him feeling skeptical about what he’s asking you to do. “It helps your hand slide smoother.”

You know that Neteyam would never intentionally lead you astray, so you do ask he says and let a long stream of saliva fall into your palm. His big hand holds your wrist and guides your hand to wrap around his length. It’s firm just like the muscles in his arms and it’s heavy in your hand.

“Just slowly move your hand like this…” his hand gently moves yours back and forth along him. After a couple of experimental strokes, he removes his hand and lets you continue on your own. It feels so…indecent, but also strangely thrilling.

“Is this good?”

“Mm…yea, you can do it a little tighter.” He says trying to keep his voice from wavering. You add some more pressure to your hold while still keeping your rhythm and Neteyam lets out a shaky breath. You’ve been watching his face the whole time, but when he makes eye contact with you, your chest squeezes feeling overwhelmed. So, you choose to focus on your hand instead. Watching the repetitive stroke of your hand and how his tip disappears into your palm only to poke back through feels like falling into a trance. A trance so deep that it removes any and all semblance of sanity you may have still had. Your mouth starts to salivate and drool down your chin which you wipe away with the back of your free hand.

It’s not enough. You need more. You want to give him more. It’s almost as if you’re watching yourself, but you can’t do anything to stop when you gently take him into your mouth. He’s so big, it’s a wonder how it would ever fit inside of your pussy. But fuck, if you didn’t want to make it fit.

“Haah…w-wait…” Neteyam’s voice is shaky and breathless being completely caught off guard by the all-encompassing warmth that now wrapped around him. He almost wants to tell you not to push yourself and that you don’t have to go this far tonight. Almost. But when his eyes find yours looking up at him big and glazed over with over half of his dick in your mouth, he is absolutely powerless to stop you.

You’re not entirely sure what to do besides just moving your head up and down. You try to incorporate your tongue by licking and dragging here and there. From what you can tell from his face and the sounds he’s making, the tip feels the best especially when you drag your tongue from the underside of it to the slit.

“A-ah fuck”

His hips are twitching and his muscles tense and relax while you work on him. Your desire to make him feel good drives you to try and fit more of him in your mouth. His tip pokes and prods at the back of your throat and it’s so thick, you can’t hold it there for more than a second or two before you need to pull back for air. But the way that it makes his chin drop to his chest and his eyes squeeze shut while he moans out praises for you makes it worth it.

“Hng…just like that”

He looks like he’s close and you were determined to get him there. You push him to the back of your throat again and his dick twitches inside of your mouth.

“Ah, I’m going to cum!” his eyes shoot open to watch you while you coax his release out of him.

You pop your mouth off of him and pump him with your fist right in front of your face.

“Wait, y-your face…” he starts, but you couldn’t care less.

“It’s okay. Just let go, Nete.” That’s all it took and he was done for. His release comes out in hot, thick ropes of white that spill over your hand and shoot onto your mouth and chin. His head falls back as he cums with a loud groan and a force that damn near knocks him off of his feet.

When he’s done, you release your hold on him and just stare in awe at the remnants of him on your hand. He looks down at you trying to find his breath and sees how you let your tongue swipe across your bottom lip to taste him.

It takes every ounce of focus he just regained to not get hard again from watching you.

“Hmm…tastes like utumauti. It’s nice.” you say letting the flavor dance around your tongue.

Neteyam quickly pulls his loincloth back on and pulls a piece of cloth from a satchel on his side.

“Here, let me help wipe you off.” He says kneeling in front of you.

“You know you don’t have to do that, Teyam.” You subconsciously revert to your regular nickname for him.

“I know, but it only feels right.” He says already grabbing your hand and swiping away the mess. This man was too sweet for his own good. Your heart can’t help but ache a bit at watching it go to waste, but you bite your tongue and settle for the ghost of the flavor still in your mouth. When he’s done with your hand, he reaches out to your face and starts wiping it off too. His eyes stay focused on the areas where he’s wiping, but your eyes are admiring his features in the soft glow of the moonlight. Neteyam has always been good looking, but he’s more than just handsome. He’s beautiful. He’s the kind of pretty that hurts to look at for too long. The kind that makes your heart flutter and ache with a burning need. And the kind that makes you greedily want to keep him all to yourself.

And then it clicks. When he notices you staring and his eyes meet yours, the pieces fit together. You love this man. You have always loved him. All these years, what you thought was just admiration for his work ethic, humming his song cord to yourself when you went about your day, the way your heart thundered when he would wrap you in one of his legendary hugs, all of it…was love.

And you wouldn’t come to know this until much later, but Neteyam realized the same exact thing in that same moment.

He’s the first to break the eye contact clearing his throat. “I think that’s all of it.”

“Thanks.” There’s a long moment of silence while the weight of everything sits on both of your chests. “Um, I think that’s good for tonight. Good work. I’m sure you’ll do great with Layao.” Her name brings a sharp sting to your chest, but you do your best to push the feeling away.

“Right. Right. Thanks. Um, you did good too. Were you planning on putting all your practice to use any time soon?”

You truly hadn’t actually thought about that part. Neteyam already had an intended mate that he was practicing for. But what about you? You didn’t have any solid prospects since everyone in the clan always thought you and Neteyam would end up together. You had never seriously considered what this would actually mean for you in terms of finding a mate.

“O-oh yea. There’s somebody I have in mind.” Another lie.

Neteyam presses his lips into a line nodding at you. “Well, he’s lucky.” He doesn’t bother to press you about who this mystery man is because he knows that if he finds out who it is, he wouldn’t be able to look at him without forever feeling the bitter pang of jealousy.

“We should probably start heading back.” You suggest finally standing to your feet. “I’ll head back first.”

“Right. See you later.” He says unable to pry his eyes away from the sway of your hips on your retreating figure.

…

“Let me guess, more training?” Kiri says gesturing to the small purple marks left from your previous night.

You laugh a little trying not to give away the flashsbacks playing through your mind. “You know it.” “I swear, for someone so even tempered, Neteyam really needs to learn how to hold back more.” She says grinding some herbs together.

“It’s fine. It’s not his fault. I kinda spur him on, I guess.”

“Well, you’d better start fighting back harder. He hardly ever has a mark on him.” She says finally walking over to you with a small sack of various herbs and placing it in your hands.

“I’ll make a note of that” you say giggling a bit. “Thanks for these.” “You know, I don’t know why you won’t just find a guy to help you through your heat. It would be much better and more effective than any of these herbs. Especially since they’ll start to be less effective over time.” She says kind of rolling her eyes at you.

“Yeah, yeah, so you’ve mentioned before. I don’t know. I just haven’t found the right guy that does it for me yet.” You shrug your shoulders and try to control the blush trying to creep into your face and stand to leave.

“Oh, wait before you go” a less familiar voice calls out to you. It’s Layao walking over to you with a giddy smile. “What kind of things does Neteyam like? I want to make him something, but I can’t decide what he’d like best. I figured since you know him better than anyone, I should ask you for your opinion.”

She was right, you did know him better than anyone. Even better than anyone would ever know.

“Oh, well, he likes yovo fruit and arm bands. You can’t really go wrong with those.” The tightening of your chest is nearly strangling the breath right out of you. You can’t, and won’t, stand in the way of what was already decided.

“Yovo and arm bands. Got it. Thank you.” She says before walking back over to her corner of the healing tent.

It’s a harsh reminder of the fact that you stupidly realized far too late that you loved the man you couldn’t have. You dismiss the thoughts with a quick shake of your head and start on the path home.

You have to prepare. Your heat will be here soon and you needed to ensure that you have enough food and water and supplies to get you through. Cycle after cycle you would writhe in agony on the floor of your home for days on end. From what you’ve heard, having a partner makes your heat pass much quicker. And it’s not like it was uncommon for young Na’vi to explore sex with many partners before mating, but that just wasn’t what you wanted. You didn’t want it to just be whatever willing participant you could stumble upon.

Looking around your home right now, you’re realizing that you may not have enough utumauti. It’s your favorite during your cycles and even though you have a hefty amount, knowing how quickly you can go through those, you felt like it would be best to air on the side of caution and get more.

On your way out into the forest, you bump into Aykxo.

“Oh, hey. Sorry, I didn’t see you down there.” He jokes. Even for a Na’vi, Aykxo was tall. Tall enough to see clear over your head without trying. He probably actually didn’t see you.

You readjust your top and reassure him that it’s fine.

“You’re Neteyam’s friend, right?” he asks.

Your eyes squint at him a bit in confusion, but also suspicion. “Yeah, I am. Why?”

“Are you…just his friend?” You don’t miss the way his eyes quickly scan your body up and down. Okay, so that’s where this was going.

“Yup. We are just friends.” It makes you cringe to say out loud. It’s not technically a lie. It was true that, officially, you and Neteyam were only best friends and as far as anybody else knew, that’s all you were. But in truth, you were something more to each other, no matter how hard either of you may try to justify the turn in your relationship with the ‘training’ excuse.

“Good to know. Then, you wouldn’t mind maybe meeting me later after eclipse?” His hand trails down the side of your arm to your hand where he takes hold of it. He certainly is bold. The act is enough to give you chills, but not in the same way that you’re used to.

You can feel a pair of eyes burning holes into you and when you find the source of the searing gaze, it’s none other than your ‘just friend’, Neteyam standing near the opening of the healing tent with Layao and Kiri. Layao has her arms wrapped securely around Neteyam’s arm while her head rests on his shoulder and she talks with Kiri. Neteyam is clearly uninterested in whatever they were talking about and was much more curious about your conversation.

You finally turn back to Aykxo, “Yeah, sounds nice.”

He smiles and kisses your hand before continuing in the direction he was originally headed. You decided you need to at least try to give other guys a chance. And Aykxo was handsome and a good hunter and all. After all, this is what you’ve been preparing for, isn’t it?

…

“So, I saw you talking with Aykxo earlier.” Neteyam starts to inquire. He decided soon after the encounter to join you on your hunt for more utumauti.

“Yeah, I guess he wants to meet later tonight after eclipse. I told him I’d come, but I don’t know. I’m kind of nervous about it.” You do your best to sound at least casual instead of disinterested. If you would have turned to look at Neteyam, you would’ve noticed how his gaze grew shifty.

“Were you planning to try…?” his words trail off implying what he wants to say without actually saying it.

“I don’t know. I haven’t really decided yet.”

“You know he’s going to fall in love with you if you do, right?” He keeps picking fruit, but you whip around to look at him with slightly wider eyes.

“How do you figure?” You ask cocking your head at him.

“I mean if you do what you did before, no man in his right mind could not fall in love with you.”

Your heart skips a beat. And then another. Your mouth gets stuck open waiting to find words to form around. Clearly, the insinuation of his statement hits you far before it hits him since he just continues gathering until he notices your silence and turns to see your stunned expression.

“I-I mean, you know, not trying to say—just, what I mean is…you were just really good is what I was trying to say.” His words are jumbled and stuttering and his face is a deep purple while he tries to avoid eye contact with you right now. You can’t help the grin that slides across your face watching this adorably goofy man lose his composure.

“What about you? You and Layao definitely looked very cozy today”, you taunt. “You might not even have to do anything more to get her to be head over heels for you.”

He chuckles lowly to himself, “You may be right. Still, I want to make sure that I’m prepared for anything.”

“Of course.”

“Anyways, do you really think this many utumauti is reasonable? Your heat is only 3 days, you have enough to last an average family for a week!” he exaggerates, but he does this every time you’re gathering supplies for your heat.

“You know it’s my favorite. It’s basically the only thing I eat for those 3 whole days. I need a lot of it.”

“If you say so, but this still seems excessive if you ask me. There’s no way anyone can eat this much in just 3 days.”

“Don’t underestimate me, Teyam. You know me better than that.” You tsk at him waving your finger.

…

It feels like your nerves are going to eat you alive walking with Aykxo through the forest tonight. Neteyam had sent you off with an encouraging smile and the reminder to “blow him away”. You rolled your eyes at his stupid joke, but it did help in somewhat easing the tension that had made a home in your gut.

Your hand feels clammy letting Aykxo lead you through the night. Or maybe that’s just in your mind. But your whole body feels off kilter with the anticipation. Soon, you both reach a small clearing and you let out a small yelp when he suddenly pulls you into his arms and holds you against his chest.

“O-oh, uh…” you start, but Aykxo is clearly uninterested in talking as he starts to attack your neck with kisses and licks and nips. He groans against your skin letting his hands roam up and down your body.

Even though your mind is completely taken aback, your body erupts in goosebumps all over and you feel hot. You don’t want this, but why is your body behaving like it does? When you try to turn your head away from him, your balance feels shaky, at best. That’s when it hits you, your heat is here. It shouldn’t be here already. You should have another few days. But it seems to have other plans for you.

Home. You need to get home right this instant. You place your hands against Aykxo’s chest and gently push him back off of you. When he looks at you, he’s clearly confused about why you stopped him.

“I’m sorry, I just…I thought we were just going to talk. Um, I think I need to go.” You say fighting your body’s urge to submit to the nearest living being. If you were on day 2 or 3, you might be desperate enough to give in, but his pheromones are slightly off-putting to your nose. They’re not the worst, but not enough to make you want him this close to you right now.

“But I thought—” he says, but you don’t let him finish. You don’t have the time to listen to the rest of his sentence.

“I’m so sorry. I really just need to go.” You say already backing out of his hold and turning to run back home. Of course, you feel bad leaving him there high and dry and clearly giving him the wrong impression, but that’s something to worry about later when you can actually control your mind and body. For now, your main focus is hiding away at home and riding out these next 3 excruciating days.

You sprint home as fast as your feet will carry you and a blink of relief hits you when it finally comes into view. You break through the opening and fall onto your sleep mat trying to catch your breath. The itch is starting to creep in much stronger than is usual for your first day. Your body is calling out for relief. You let your fingers crawl under your loincloth and between your legs to hopefully find some comfort. When your fingers slip between your wet folds, it makes your ears twitch with curiosity when the name that slips past your lips is ‘Neteyam’…

Taglist: @soleilmoon @netemoon @fifia-writes @strangersav11

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#avatar #avatar the way of water #neteyam #neteyam sully #neteyam x reader #avatar fic #awow #neteyam x na'vi!reader #atwow #atwow neteyam #avatar twow #avatar neteyam #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #avatar smut

[mangekyuou]

✸     now playing  …     YOUR FAVORITE STAR。

✸     pairing! …  f!reader x camboy!portgas d. ace.

✸     type of love! …  physical. romantic.

✸     cw(s)! …  nsfw. afab!reader. ( “cunt” / “core” / “pussy” used to describe genitals among others ) oral. ( f!receiving ) no pronouns used. fingering. one ass smack. mentions of sex work. reader wears a skirt. cringey plot. not proofread. minors DNI.

✸     wc! …  2.9k.

✸     notes! …  this been sitting in the drafts for over a year. if you’re actually seeing it, i surprisingly decided to post it. i apologize in advanced. wanted to practice writing more in 2nd pov since i don’t do that often.

“No. Fucking. Way. It’s you!”

“I...I have no idea what you’re talking about!” You stammered out of embarrassment, hiding your face between the pages of your textbook to avoid his dark eyes. You could already imagine the satisfied smirk written on his features.

The black-haired man sitting across from you on the small twin-sized bed let out a hearty laugh. By how hard he was laughing at your misery, he could have easily knocked himself off of the bed. “Never expected you to be so perverted. Then again...you are an uptight little teacher’s pet. I see why you’d be into that shit.”

“Uptight?! Teacher’s pet?! Excuse me?!”

Even if it hurt, his words did hold a bit of truth. Textbook definition of a goody two shoes, living your life solely for other people who rarely returned the favor, neglecting yourself in the process. You barely had time for hobbies you had yet to discover, for places you’d always want to go, for yourself.

These days you spent most of your time outside classes either studying or helping campus. Your grades were quite great, and you had gotten along with most of your professors. You had even become a tutor, which is how you ended up in this predicament.

You were so frustrated.

Late into the night, you had found yourself up until 2 in the morning, studying for an upcoming test. An exasperated sigh left your lips as the words became a jumbled mess on the pages. You had worn yourself out for the night, there was no more information getting in. But every time you had closed your eyes to rest, you’d be right back up again.

With nothing else to do, you sat back at your desk, clicking away on her laptop in search of any kind of entertainment.

You played flash games, you attempted to read books, even going through the social media pages of your friends to see what fun things they were doing, that they failed to even invite you to. You already knew what their excuse was going to be. ‘Well, we didn’t think you’d want to go...’, even though they never asked.

Clicking from one platform to another, until you reached an ad for one you’d never seen before. The description of the ad was fairly vague, describing it as a membership platform where people could pay to view content.

Just what content was available?

You were intrigued, signing up for an account and scrolling through what the platform had to offer. There were artists, writers, video editors, and many more!

How come you hadn’t heard of such a platform? Where had this platform been all of your life?

As you scrolled through pages and pages of content creators, down the rabbit, you had reached a community of creators you didn’t even think about being on such a site...even if you should have.

Camstars.

Your access was minimal, as you hadn’t paid yet. You could only see people in pretty lingerie, boxers, or sexy costumes. This side of the site had fascinated you more than you’d wanted to say aloud.

You weren’t a prude or anything! You just hadn’t expected to see porn so easily. Maybe that’s why you needed to confirm your age when signing up.

One camboy, in particular, had caught your eye.

A tall fellow with neck-length curly black hair and an orange cowboy hat, partnered with dark eyes and a cocky smile. Who could forget to mention the freckles? Since he had no shirt, you could easily see he was ripped. He obviously took great care of himself. He even had a few tattoos.

On the opening part of his page was a short intro post where he introduced himself as “The name’s Ace. But I’ll be whoever you like for the right price.” Along with the post was a risque picture of himself posing in front of a dirty mirror with his hand in his pants, giving what he called “a sneak peek of what’s to cum. Get it?”

He was quite...the cheesy fellow. But it added to his charm. 

You were sold.

After pondering on the idea for nowhere near long enough, you clicked the join button on the cheapest membership tier, gaining access to most of his posts and a little automated message that was sent to everyone who joined. Too eager to see you were what was hidden in his pants, you didn’t even worry about the message.

Luckily, you didn’t have to scroll to far. A rather poorly taken nude had appeared on the screen. His hardened cock in his hand, appearing just below the intro post with the caption, “Thanks for 1k subscribers. Here’s my thank you. Should be fucking one of you to celebrate though.”

You pressed your thighs together at the sight, attempting to soothe the dull aching in between your legs. Before you knew it, you had spent hours scrolling through his page from top to bottom. Your earphones stuffed into your ears at the max volume. Not a single picture or video slips by you. 

Your cheek pressed against the cool pillows on your bed, with your bare ass in the air, mewling softly as your fingers circle your clit. Ace’s voice in your ears, spewing degrading things between his own mewls and moans.

“You fucking love this, don’t you? Picturing my dick inside of you? Yeah?” The deep breaths, shallow sighs, the moans between his words sent chills down your spine. Your eyes were wired shut as you pictured him there. “You’d love it if I was there with you right now, huh? You’d let me claim your slutty hole, wouldn’t you? Wouldn’t you, baby?”

You pictured him hovering over you, cock buried so deep inside your pussy, degrading you for all you’re worth. You bite down into your pillow to muffle your pretty noises as you reach your first high in who knows how long.

You would eventually join the highest membership tier he had to offer. The benefits definitely beat the others. You could even send him more money on the side for special requests for eyes only, such as:

“If it’s not too much, could you record a video of you humping your pillow?”

“Only if you want to, could you masturbate in front of a mirror?”

“Would you ever try toys? Like a vibrator?”

You were always so sweet and polite in your messages, of course, he noticed you and took quite a liking to you. Ace was quite curious about you, wondering if you were struggling with a porn addiction or if it was just a hobby of yours. Though it didn’t stop him from throwing in an extra dick pic, moaning video, or birthday video for his favorite supporter.

Never in a million years would you believe you’d run into him on campus.

To make matters worse, you never expected to be in the same math class. You had nearly fainted, seeing his head full of curly hair with his orange hat on his back, as he walked past her while talking to a group of friends. You wanted to believe there was just someone identical to him. Maybe he was a twin! But it wasn’t likely anyone shared EVERY feature Ace had. Even down to the freckles and tattoos.

It was him.

The camboy you had masturbated to and threw tons of money at, right in front of you. Luckily he didn’t know your real name or face. As long as you didn’t give it away, he wouldn’t know, right?

Though he made it hard to focus. You knew what he looked like naked, it’s all you could think about in his presence. Even though you knew it was wrong, it didn’t stop your mind from picturing just what he could do to you. The dirty fantasies your mind seemed to come up with as Ace did relatively normal things, such as; falling asleep in class, asking if you had an extra pencil, or asking to copy notes.

Due to Ace’s bad habit of not paying attention in class, he’s failing. Even after trying to pay attention in class, he just still didn’t get it. Which is how he ended up, coming up to you after class to ask you to tutor him.

How were you going to tell him no?

Now here you sat in his dorm room, face shoved into your textbook, trying to hide from him as he discovered that you are not only one of his subscribers but his highest-paying one as well.

Seeing a notification from the platform appear across your phone screen, teasing you a little as he snatched your phone away. Defending yourself, as you tried your hardest to get it back before he saw too much. But he was too far gone, wanting to see what creators you were supporting, coming across his own account.

He was stunned for a moment, before laughing as you finally snatched your phone back and sat all the way on the other end of his bed. He scooted closer to you, taking the textbook in your hands and setting it down on the floor. “I never expected my best supporter to be so close to me. It’s almost cute, how you tried to hide it. You know, you could have just told me.”

His hand found its way onto the plush skin of your thigh, slowly inching toward the hem of your skirt. You had tensed up a bit at his sudden touch. You placed your hand on top of his, stopping him from moving up any further. Though you did not remove his hand.

“It’s...embarrassing...” You trailed off, your eyes had stayed on the placement of his hand, “It’s nothing anything you, of course! You look great! I mean...”

“Thank you,” He chuckled, “But I know what you meant. I don’t think you should be embarrassed by it. We all have our needs, right?”

Of course, you agreed. it’s how you ended up becoming his top subscriber. Ace brushed your hand off of his, making contact with your thigh once more. He leaned close to your ear. He continued, “You work so hard every day. You always put everyone’s well-being before your own, even mine. Plus, you always tip me so generously and you’re so sweet to me. You take such great care of me, ( y/n ).”

You could feel his plump lips grazing the shell of your ear, setting your skin ablaze. Though he was not finished yet, “Can I show you how thankful I am to my favorite subscriber?” It felt like the magic word to make her putty in his hands. It was one thing to hear him say it through your earphones into the night with your hand stuffed into your panties. It was an entirely new experience to hear him say it in person, his hand just above the place you craved him.

“I would love that,” Your words came out a mere pathetic whisper.

“Your wish is my command,” He smirked before leaning in to capture your lips in a passionate, desperate kiss. His lips were even softer than you could ever imagine as they danced across yours. He slid his tongue into your mouth, allowing his muscle to circle yours.

Ace’s hand flipped up your skirt to show your soaked panties. You pulled away from his lips, breathlessly. He pressed a line of short kisses up your neck before looking down between your legs. Eagerly you spread your legs wide for him without shame. He couldn’t even hide the cocky grin, “You’re not even shy about it anymore, how cute.” 

He grabbed onto the waistband of your panties, pulling them up a bit before letting them go, the fabric snapping down onto your skin. “Ouch, Ace~!” You mewl as he finally took your panties off and tossed them aside with a laugh. But the skirt was staying. He pressed a kiss to your neck, “Sorry, starshine.”

He moved off of the bed, his knees hitting the carpet floor as he settled himself between your legs. Wrapping his arms around your legs, pulling you closer to the edge, bringing your glistening cunt closer to him. He began a trail of open mouth kisses to your inner thighs, taking his sweet time moving up to your core, leaving the occasional playful bite to make you both giggle.

As he took his time, you slipped off your shirt, letting it fall behind you. Finally, at your core, he licked a stride up your glistening folds before burying his face, making you shudder. Without wasting any time, he began to lap at your folds. He was so fixated on your core, a look of complete delight written on his features. Through his hooded eyes, he looked up to see you writhing in pleasure. Your pretty mewls and moans sound like the most beautiful melody he’s ever heard.

Your hand found its way into his solid black, curly locks, gripping tightly as you push him further into you. Ace latched his mouth onto your clit, sucking on the bundle of nerves. The band of pleasure stretched in the lower pit of your stomach, as your body wrenched under him. After riding out your orgasm, Ace removed himself from your legs, lightly tapping your thigh, “Come on, babe.”

He flipped you over gently, before wrapping an arm around the front of your legs, to pull you up, leaving your ass in the air. The dark-haired camstar was beside himself, pressing a kiss to your ass cheek, “And to think you were right in front of me all along. If I had known you were so close, I would have actually fucked you for your birthday.”

“There’s always next year, right?” You look over your shoulder at him.

“Oh starshine, believe I’ll do more than that for your next birthday,” Ace glides two fingers into you, causing you to moan. He curls his digits, looking at the reaction your body is giving him. He loved knowing that he was making you feel so good.

He swiftly removed his fingers from your hole. Before you could even whine at the sudden loss of contact, he practically shoved his face into your pussy, burying his hot tongue into you. You let out a curse that was probably too loud, falling face-first into the mattress. Your hands gripping the sheets on either side of you.

He was different than before. Like he was no longer trying to be cocky, but rather he was more desperate and messy, lapping at your folds with such intensity. His chin wet from your arousal. He reintroduced his fingers. The combination of his hot tongue and fingers was overwhelming. That second band of pleasure was already building up quickly.

“Fuck, Ace! So...good!” The second band of pleasure washed over you before you even knew it, cumming onto his tongue. He rides out your second orgasm, before pulling away from your folds with a playful smack to your ass. “Can’t wait anymore...gotta be inside of you.” He ridded himself of his clothes in a rush. He had finally released his cock, so hard, oozing with pre-cum, red with need. He needed to be inside of you or else he was going to go crazy.

But, not without protection. In his full glory, he walked over to the nightstand, pulling out a condom from one of the drawers, rolling it onto his hardened cock as he kneeled behind you.

He gripped onto your hips, fingers digging into your flesh to hold you in place, as he impatiently guided his length into your hole. A fucked out mewl left your lips, no longer being able to form coherent words. His mouth was slightly agape at the feeling of your tight walls around him, “You feel...fucking amazing!”

His thrusts were rough and fast, the tip of his length nearly kissing your cervix. You’ve never felt so full, so blissed out that you couldn’t even find the words to speak. You deserved this, to be pleasured in all the best ways, to be treated like royalty. And Ace, your favorite camboy, was the one to do it.

He leans down, pressing his chest against your back, closing in the space. He wrapped an arm around you, peppering your shoulder and lower neck with open-mouthed kisses. “My favorite star...my sweet starshine,” He mumbles against your hot skin as he pounded into you.

“Ace...I’m gonna...” You try to say between moans.

“Cum, baby,” He panted out. His words were all you needed to be sent over the edge, your third and final orgasm ripping through you like a storm. As you can, he had as well, shuddering into the croak of your neck, filling the condom. A long drawn-out ‘fuck’ left his mouth. 

He pulled out of her, tossing the condom into the trash bin before laying on his back. Without much thought, he pulled you into his embrace. “Too tired for math...let’s cuddle and nap.”

“This must be the secret membership tier that only your favorite subscribers get into,” You teased.

“That is true. It comes with the most important perk of them all, me. This tier could be all yours and only yours for the low-low price of dinner on me.”

You looked up as if you were pondering the idea, “That does sound like quite the deal. Pass our next test and you got yourself a deal.”

“Reachable goals, ( y/n ). I need reachable. Not unrealistic ones.”

© MANGEKYUOU.  

#DONT READ IT #dont know if i'll write smuts in 2nd pov again #i feel like this is so bad #if it disappears yall know what happened #one piece #portgas d ace #ace #ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #ace oneshots #ace scenarios #ace imagines #ace smut #one piece oneshots #one piece scenarios #one piece imagines #one piece smut #night rather than day ── 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘰. 𓂃 ★☆

[aphroditesmoon]

hello dear! i love your works so much and just have seen you write for wednesday?? (shame on me) if it's ok with you, can you please write hcs about xavier x jealous!reader? like she has a crush on him but thinks he's head over heels with wednesday so distance herself and become kinda passive-aggressive? i can see hurt/comfort and fluff but absolutely up to you! thank u in advance! take care!

how to get out of love

xavier thorpe x reader

warnings: angst, dumbass xavier

a/n: hello lovely, I know you asked for hcs but I overworked myself🫶 for all the early requests w similar tropes, I'm sorry I took so long!

part two

°°°

If there was one thing you lacked that Wednesday Addams doesn't, it's the absence of a heart.

And your heart has been beating for the tortured artist since you've crossed paths.

He wasn't like all the other incels that made you uncomfortable or the bullies who made you cry, no.

He was just a gentle awkward and talented soul. That was why you liked him, one thing you two seemed to have in common is that you both feel immensely.

Yet these days it seemed he's been having less time to notice your lack of enthusiasm, not when he's busy trying to get new girl Wednesday Addams, resident sociopath, to notice him.

It's a lost cause! She doesn't want to be loved by him, you did, why couldn't he see that?

You were sure one of these days she'd end up giving him a piece of her mind, and you look forward to that day.

What you didn't expect, was her asking him to Rave'n Dance.

He seemed so happy you had to compose yourself from breaking down. "I thought we were going together?" You ask, attempting to sound nonchalant.

Either it worked or he was oblivious. "Yeah I know that, but c'mon, I've been waiting for ages for this chance-"

"oh yes her loyal dog at her beck and call." You mumbled, loud enough to reach his ears.

His words halted and he stares at you baffled.

"I've liked her for so long, you can't really expect me to bail this for you? How can you be so selfish?" Your eyes widen as he snaps at you.

"Selfish? I'm saying this because I care about you! Xavier, if she really liked you, she wouldn't wait this long to show it, she's been treating you like shit and you just take it."

He rolls his eyes and reach for his jacket to leave your dorm. "You know, you and Bianca would make really good friends, both so desperately insecure and manipulative."

You lose your voice as you watch him slam the door in your face.

The words doesn't sound like his, something so cruel could never come out of your sweet boy, and yet it did.

You breath out a sigh and feel your cheeks wet as tears fall down. If he wanted to get screwed over by her, then he can go ahead and take his chance.

°°°

Your play was to be held tonight, the tickets all have been sold and costumes been made, yet you still couldn't get in the right headspace.

Perhaps this deep melancholic sadness you're drowning in could help you embody Ophelia better, she was quite a tragic character.

You found yourself imagining your Xavier digging your grave and crying over your dead body as Hamlet did, would he come to regret his rejection of you when it's too late, as the prince did?

You shook your head and waved off your wild fantasies, life was anything but a Shakespeare play, thankfully.

And he had made his choice clear.

The play had been going well so far. Too well for your liking.

And as if the universe has been reading your mind, your Hamlet, Ajax, has accidentally stoned himself, forgetting the mirror in the props.

Laughter spread through the audience. At least they found it funny.

You stood in the middle dumbly, not sure how to continue. Your eyes glare at the vampires in their guards costumes.

"We need a replacement." You hissed, nearing them slowly.

"Is this a prologue or a the posy of a ring?" His voice booms through the stage.

He was wearing Ajax's costume, and if you weren't still upset with him, you'd say he looks exactly the part.

Besides the obvious tremble in his voice as he forces himself to read through Ajax's lines.

You had no idea who had voted for Xavier as replacement, you were sure that all the characters should have replacement actors, yet you could not find Ajax's.

He coughed a bit and you broke your trance, slightly shaking your head.

" 'Tis brief, my lord." You speak, moving into the arranged seats on stage for the scene.

He stares at you for a minute and you found yourself mouthing the lines at him as he immediately repeats it.

"-As woman's love." It might be a trick of light, as you notice how his eyes bore deeply into yours when he spoke the words.

°°°

The play had not gone too smoothly, Xavier proving that he wasn't exactly the best ik acting and theatres, and of course he could barely remember any of the lines, none his faults. The chaos that ensued however only made the crowd merrier, enjoying the random interruptions and the funny awkward moments on stage.

You smiled and shyly took some of the bouquets thrown for you before running backstage.

Your body was tired of the long standings and the heavily designed dress. You strip it off immediately and wrap yourself in your robe before sitting down to remove your makeup.

You breath hitches as you hear a knock on your door, having a feeling that you knew who it was.

You begrudgingly open the door and Xavier's face appears in front of you.

"Can I come in?"

"No."

He pursed his lips and stared at you with pleading eyes.

You sighed loudly and moved aside as he enters.

"Whatever it is, be quick, I'm dying to get to bed." You rushed him.

He nods and inhales before starting.

"You were right-" You scoffed and roll your eyes.

"Wow, barely a day and she's already left you?" You mock him and feel a sense of guilt slithering in as he turns to look down, avoiding your eyes.

"She never liked me, she thought I was the hyde, she was trying to frame me or something."

You frowned and all insults leave your mind. "She thought you, were the Hyde?" He nods and you huffed, baffled.

"That just proves she never really knew you then." You decided.

He looks back at you and steps closer to your standing build.

"No, she doesn't. Only you ever do."

Your eyes soften at his words but the constant reminder of his words and how easily he was willing to replace you still burned at the back of your mind.

"And yet I still wasn't enough." You mumbled clear enough for him to hear.

"You are enough -" He interjects and you cut him off. "Just not for you then?"

He turns silent and you watch him struggle to form words.

"If she had wanted to be with you, for real, you wouldn't be here would you?" Your voice meek as you ask.

Your eyes starts to water as you watch him stand quietly, looking down at the floor.

"I'm a fucking idiot." He whispers.

Tears fall down your face and you chest heaved loudly as you lose control and starts sobbing.

"I have always been here all along, through everything- Me! Not her, not Bianca, why don't you ever see me? I have always loved you for you!" His eyes widen you revel in his guilt stricken face.

"I- I'm sorry, I didn't see you before, but i see you now-"

He startles and move towards you but your hands raise to push him away.

"No, I don't want you anywhere near me, get out."

"[name]-"

"You've said enough Xavier, I'm nothing but a second choice to you, I see that now, and I refuse to be your little pastime lapdog while you dream of someone else when you're with me."

He stares at you mouth agape and you roared at him; "I said, leave!"

Your voice makes him flinch and he rushes out the door, hands shaking as you notice his own bleary eyes.

Tonight you were his Ophelia, and like Hamlet, he was too late.

#xavier thorpe x you #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe fanfic #xavier thorpe wednesday #xavier thorpe #wednesday netflix #wednesday addams

[stiltonbasket]

Could we see some of Sizhui's point of view on the whole "my dad just got 'gifted' a new concubine and now he has to send me to war" thing? He's so sweet, always, and Im wondering what he's feeling + what he sees watch LWJ and WWX interact.

Wen Sizhui wasn't quite sure what to think when he heard that a new concubine would be coming to the Wei-fu.

In fact, he hadn't known what to think when his father took Yu-shushu and Li-yiniang in as concubines some six months earlier. Diedie had never been married, and he was far too virtuous to put one foot over the threshold of a brothel or take one of his servants as a tongfang; but one morning, Yu-shushu and Aunt Li simply appeared, as if his father had woken up at the advanced age of seven and thirty and decided that he must have both a shu wife and husband at once, if he couldn't have a legitimate spouse.

Sizhui couldn't imagine what to make of it. At first, he believed that his father had actually fallen in love, though it hardly seemed reasonable that Fuqin could fall in love with two people at once when he had entertained no suitors or bridal candidates over the past eighteen years—but Yu Zhenhong behaved as if he was Father's lover, and Wen Sizhui did not learn otherwise until his Qing-ayi announced that Li Shuai was with child.

The sounds of Li Shuai being ill in the night began scarcely eight hours after she arrived at the High General's manor; and Sizhui had been taught enough about the care of ladies in their confinement to understand (once he knew why she was sick so often, and why she didn't seem frightened about it) that her child couldn't possibly belong to his father.

Judging by the haggard look on Yu Zhenhong's face whenever Aunt Li had one of her bad days, it was likely that he didn't belong to Diedie, either.

And then, at the turn of the winter, Hanguang-jun arrived. This made some modicum of sense to Sizhui, because Wen-zongzhu was determined to mete out some form of punishment that would make Yu-shushu miserable without physically harming him: and also because Hanguang-jun was difficult to control, whether he had the use of all four of his limbs or not. Before his hasty removal to the High Genera's manor, it was evident that he would be less of a threat under Fuqin's care than the jailers'—so Wen-zongzhu freed Hanguang-jun from the underground dungeon, and warned him to keep his head down lest he provoke a manhunt for his young nephew, Lan Jingyi.

Now, nearly half a year after Father and Hanguang-jun's wedding, Sizhui finds himself wondering if his stepfather's kindness towards him is due to his love for that nephew, whom Hanguang-jun will likely never see again unless Wen Ruohan manages to capture him.

"Is that what you think?" Hanguang-jun asks, when Sizhui visits his courtyard on the day before his regiment's scheduled departure to Langya. "I understand why, of course: but you and Jingyi are wholly different to me."

Sizhui puts his head to one side like a curious bird. "Why?"

"Because you give me thrice the amount of heartache that he does, if not more," his stepfather says drily. "I never had to fear for my nephew's life until the night I was captured, when I saw your father's men fighting their way towards Jing'er on the battlefield. Before that, he was so well-protected by my brother and Nie-zongzhu that he rarely suffered so much as a nosebleed in my presence. To know that you will be going to war—a child like you—"

His voice stutters.

"Father managed to get permission for me to go as a medic." Sizhui says quickly. "If General Dai agrees with Wen-zongzhu, I can stay behind the front lines and keep away from the fighting altogether."

"En. Good," Hanguang-jun nods.

He turns away and wheels himself towards the chest of drawers on the other side of the room; and once there, he opens the bottom drawer to reveal the sandalwood box Diedie gifted to him that New Year's.

"Come here," he says quietly. "Hold out your arm."

Hanguang-jun reaches into the box and withdraws something long and shining from its depths. At first glance, it seems to be a skein of silken thread: but when Wen Sizhui looks closer, he realizes that the object is a fine lock of his stepfather's hair, braided into a smooth, dark rope and reinforced with eight minute silver clasps.

"What is it?" he asks, as Hanguang-jun pulls him closer and loops the lock of hair thrice about his wrist. "Did my Fuqin..."

"Your father had nothing to do with this," Hanguang-jun replies at once, as if he were afraid of being overheard. "The hair is mine, and I have strengthened it with my spiritual energy, so that it will not break or fray—and the silver clasps were made from the cloud ornament on my mo'e.

"This will keep you from coming to harm at the hand of any soldier trained in the Lan school of cultivation, but it is not infallible. No spiritual blade forged in the Cloud Recesses will be able to touch you while the bracelet is on your wrist, but it will have no effect if you are attacked by a Nie cultivator, or a Lan whose cultivation is too poor for anything but a common sword."

He grasps Sizhui's hands and looks up into his eyes: and suddenly, Sizhui remembers the steady gaze of his late grandmother, who passed away just after Father was last elevated in Wen-zongzhu's service.

"Go to Wei Ying," Hanguang-jun says roughly, nearly five minutes later. "You and he will be parted in the morning, and you have not yet said farewell to your yima and Yu Zhenhong."

Wen Sizhui nods and makes his way to the door. He pauses on the threshold and turns back to look at Hanguang-jun, who is still staring bitterly at the spot of red carpet Sizhui was standing two minutes ago.

"I'll be all right," he says, trying to smile. "After all, yifu—even your Jing'er made it back from Hejian, didn't he?"

At the mention of Lan Jingyi, Hanguang-jun looks positively wretched.

"He had his father with him. I was there, too," he murmurs. "And if that arrow had not touched Wei Ying, you would have never had to ride to war without your father at your side."

#wangxian #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #lan wangji #lan sizhui #wrh raises wwx au #my fic

[ibrithir-was-here]

Another Sandman drabble from my prompt list. This one's for the prompt "You're my person" and takes place in the "Lots O Kids AU "

“You’re my person” Hob whispered softly, stroking a finger down the side of Morpheus's cheek as they lay curled together on their bed.

"And you're mine" Morpheus whispered back, eyes fluttering shut as he leaned into the comfort of the touch and the quiet shared moment.

"And this is our safe place" Hob went on, continuing the familiar lines of the mantra  they'd put together years ago, when they had first moved in together and facing the displeasure of Morpheus's parents, on top of the normal pressures of trying to build a shared life, had made safe places feel scarce indeed. 

"No one can take it from us" Morpheus answered back, shifting even closer to lay his head down on his husband's chest, the warm safety of Hob's arms coming round him. 

"You, and me, and babies three" Hob finished, pressing a kiss to the top of Morpheus's head, smiling into the eternal birdnest of his hair.

"We'll need to alter that now I suppose," Morpheus sighed, nuzzling into Hob's neck, "Now that Daniel's here."

They'd had to change it once before, when they'd brought Hope home. It had originally been 'Me and you and babies two', when it had just been Orpheus and Robyn. Morpheus had been trying to work out how they could alter it to keep the rhyming scheme now that they were fostering Daniel but hadn't yet come to an answer he felt suited. 

"We'd likely have to change it up soon anyway" Hob said with an exaggerated sigh. 

"Orpheus informed me, very dourly, I might add, that a twelve year old is far too grown up to be lumped in with the babies. And then Robyn and Hope got started saying nine and six were also quite respectively advanced ages and well…"

"They are indeed 'growing up like weeds' as Johanna so succinctly put it" Dream chuckled softly. 

But the mirth faded quickly, and he sunk back against Hob, the prickling agitation that had necessitated this impromptu cuddling session creeping back into him. Hob of course couldn't fail to notice, and carding his hand through Morpheus's dark hair he asked softly:

"Still not feeling so great?"

Morpheus gave a grumble and tried to curl tighter into the warm circle of Hob's arms, hoping his husband wouldn't press. But he had no such luck. 

"What’s got you down exactly?" Hob asked softly, tilting his head in a very uncomfortable looking angle to try and catch Morpheus's eye. 

Morpheus sighed and reluctantly sat up, to save Hob's neck,but missed the closeness immediately. 

"Its not…" He started,  then stopped, running his hands over his face with a groan as he tried to work out exactly how to express what he was feeling.

"It's not that I'm unhappy per se, quite the opposite, actually. " He finally said, worrying a corner of the blanket Hob had pulled over them with his thumb, avoiding Hob's eye.

"I'm very happy, incredibly happy, more than I ever imagined I could be, everything has been going so well and…"

He paused again, trying but failing to keep a shuddery sort of half laugh, half sob from escaping as he said: 

"And I think perhaps that's why I'm so frightened"

Hob's arms were around him again instantly, pulling him in close once more, surrounding him in a feeling of protective love even as the tears he'd been trying to hold back the whole day finally started to fall, staining the blanket with little round patches of damp. 

"I-I keep thinking, sometimes, that  it's all too good to be true" 

He finally looked over at Hob again then, reaching out to clutch at Hob's free hand with his own, squeezing tight. 

"Sometimes I worry that this," Morpheus motioned with his other hand around their bedroom, their home, the refuge they'd built together for themselves and their children, "Is all some sort of wonderful dream."

The tears were falling faster now, and Morpheus couldn't stand to keep looking at Hob's kind, wonderful, worried face. He couldn't see him that clearly anyway as his vision blurred, and so turned to bury his face in the crook of Hob's neck, Hob's arms shifting in turn to pull him even closer.

"Sometimes I think-I think I'll wake up one day and find that none of it was real. That there is no house or children, or-or us."

Morpheus was shaking now,  exhaustion from the anxiety that he'd been fighting back for several days now, ever since they'd brought Daniel home,finally catching up to him as he finished with a choking whisper: 

"That I'm actually still…all alone"

There was a moment's silence, and then Hob turned his head to press another kiss to Morpheus's forehead..

"Oh love…"

There was a short shuffle as Hob lowered them both back down onto the bed, tugging the blankets up around them so that they were pressed close under a star-strewn cocoon of warmth, his hands returning  to running long, grounding strokes through Morpheus's hair.

"It's not a dream duck, I promise you. It's all real. If it wasn't, the bills I'm sure would be lower, and neither of us would ever have to brave the grocery stores or fight tooth and nail to get the kids to eat a darn vegetable." 

A watery laugh wisped out of Morpheus despite himself, and Hob smiled back before continuing. 

"But it is. This really is your cluttered house, your crazy kids, your creaky husband--"

"You don't creak" 

"I do" Hob said decidedly, pressing a kiss to the tip of Morpheus's nose. "I creak and the kids cry and the bills keep coming and we fall asleep too exhausted to make love half the nights"

Another watery laugh came out, a bit stronger this time. 

" And then we wake up and hear Orpheus singing while Robyn's hammering at something, and Hope bosses them both around and Daniel just laughs and laughs and laughs and it's our real messy chaotic wonderful life" 

Another kiss, to Morpheus's mouth this time, deep and grounding, chasing out the cold ache of anxiety and tears with the warmth of their shared love.

"And you're here in it"  Hob said, as he finally broke the kiss. 

"I'd never wish to be anywhere else." Morpheus said with a contented sigh, his eyes closing as he nestled into the pillows, arms wrapping around Hob.  

"Our safe place" Hob whispered, twining their fingers together. 

"No one can take it from us" 

There was a pause.

"We'll…figure a new rhyme out at some point" Hob said with a giggle, and Morpheus leaned in to kiss him again. 

----

Thanks at @windsweptinred for inspiring me to start writing these drabbles for my Sandman AUs!

#my writing #Lots O Kids AU #dreamling #sandman #dream of the endless #hob gadling #lord morpheus #daniel hall #hope beautiful lost nebula #sandman overture #robyn gadling #orpheus sandman #orpheus #tw anxiety

[ohthatstragic]

Coming to a Realisation - p.m

a/n: thank you to the lovely anon that requested this because i got to use this yummy gif....... rooster might be a bit OOC in this BUT, i had a lot of fun writing it, especially from a third person perspective :3 i hope you like it anon, i tried :,( < 3

i made it so the reader was around 28 i believe, i hope that's okay!

also pls don’t repost or translate any of my work.. i don’t give you permission to do that.

pairings: maverick x reader, dagger squad x reader

warnings: disapproving rooster, throwback, age gap, mushy cute moments between you and mr pete 'dilf' mitchell

wc: 2,496

the request: 'What do you think about the dragger or dagger??? (idk which one it is) squad would think about Maverick young fiance (yes fiance because Maverick got over his “im too old for you” phase). Like canon Mav is 57-60ish and the reader is 21+.' read it in full here

the songs i listened to whilst writing this: yebba's heartbreak - drake, yebba, i'm kind of obsessed with this song and i'm not ashamed

The hustle and bustle of the crowds in The Hard Deck echoed in laughs, cheers and shouts as you shuffled through the sea of drunk people, packed so closely together like sardines in a tin. You knew what you were getting yourself into all that time ago when you first started dating the highly decorated captain, Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell. The pair of you had worked through many ups and downs in your relationship, and the hard work had certainly paid off. Your gleaming eyes bounced down to the stunning and sparkling diamond ring that sat happily on your finger. Working your way through the crowd, you finally reached the well-known dagger squad who had warmly welcomed you when Maverick had first introduced you to them. However, there was a certain moustached pilot who didn't match the happy cheers like his peers. Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw.

"Hey, Mav, finally found a woman your age yet?" Rooster taunted.

"Don't you think it's funny how you were twenty nine when she was born?" Rooster pestered.

Rooster wasn't very approving of your relationship with his God-father, and he certainly made it known. If you had a dollar for each time the pilot made a dig or insulting joke about you and Maverick, you would definitely be quite wealthy by now. "Hey, Y/N!" Phoenix grinned merrily as she caught your eyes, her arms opening to wrap you in a big hug. Your lips instantly curled up into a grin as you looked at her, happily accepting her advances. As she enveloped you with her warm arms, you squeezed her tight, resting your head upon her shoulder for a brief moment.

"Phoenix," You smiled, your voice catching the attention of the other aviators that sat around the pair of you. "You look great." You added with a widening smile. Her eyes fell from yours to the ring on your finger, her hands catching yours to bring it up to her face.

"Each time I see it, I swear it gets bigger," She laughed with a soft shake of her head. "Have you decided on a date yet?" Phoenix inquired, stepping back to grab her bottle of beer from the side of the pool table.

"Not yet, but we really want to have the wedding in the late spring time." You beamed, casting your gaze aside as you spotted Hangman, Coyote, Bob, Fanboy and Payback with big smiles on their faces, making their way over to greet you.

"There's the future Mrs Maverick!" Hangman cheered as he raised his arms in the air in a  celebratory fashion, squeezing past Phoenix to wrap an arm around your waist to pull you against him in a hug. You slid your arm around his back and hugged him back, letting out a shy laugh. "How's it goin' with the old man?"

"It's really great, actually," You said, looking up at the blonde aviator as he released you, his other hand bringing the bottle of beer up to his lips to take a swig.

"Well, if he does anythin' stupid, you know where to find us, Y/N. We'll kick his antiquated ass for you." Hangman assured you with his signature shining grin. You rolled your eyes at the man and patted his chest playfully.

"He wouldn't dare, because he knows I'd kick his ass first!" You laughed, turning to receive a welcoming hug from Coyote and Fanboy as Hangman and Phoenix chuckled at your reply. The two naval aviators wandered towards you with big grins, their arms coming to engulf you in a hug. "Hey Coyote, Fanboy!"

You hugged them back with a squeeze, smiling at them as they released you. "Congratulations, by the way! Sorry we weren't able to make it to your surprise party." Coyote sheepishly looked away from you, a hand flying up to rub the back of his neck.

"Oh, guys, don't worry about it. As long as you make it to the wedding, we'll be happy." You fanned a hand at them with another smile, dismissing their apology. In truth, you were just glad they were here. You know how dangerous and taxing their job can be.

"We'll be there, we wouldn't want to miss the chance to see Maverick cry." Fanboy laughed, as did the whole group of you all.

"Cry about what?" Your beloved fiancé's voice sounded from behind you and you instantly turned around to face him, your hands flying to wrap around his middle. Peering up at him, you couldn't hide the megawatt grin that spread across your cheeks. "Hi, sweetheart," He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your nose. The comforting smell of his cologne filled your nose as he pulled you closely against his chest, pressing another sweet kiss to your lips this time. "Are they being nice to you?" He asked with a laugh.

"Yes, of course, honey," You jokily scoffed at his question, capturing the attention of a brooding Bradley. He sat behind you and the squad with Bob and Payback, rolling his eyes at your reply.

"C'mon, Rooster, let's go say hello," Payback said, nodding toward the circle of people just in front of them. He didn't reply, staring daggers into the back of your head. "Don't piss Mav off." He added, and that seemed to motivate Rooster a little more. Despite all the past events that happened, he learned to love Maverick like a father. In all honesty, he was protective of him now, and he only believed that you were here for a good time, not a long time. It was too... weird for him.

"I think she seems nice," Bob said, earning a glare from Rooster. He quickly made himself busy with scratching the label of the beer with his nails.

"Fine," Rooster groaned, standing up and brushing a hand down his middle to perfect his appearance. Bob and Payback stood up as well, sharing a worried look between each other. "Let's go." He said quietly, watching you sit in his God-father's arms.

A quiet 'ahem' came from behind you and Maverick, and your fiancé's arms fell down your arms slightly, his fingers tightening on your biceps as he saw Bradley. "Hey, Payback, Bob!" You grinned, having not seen Rooster yet. They both hugged you, and as the pair of them leaned forwards to envelope you, you saw Rooster. You knew how he felt about your relationship with Maverick, and you were praying he had come to say hello and not poke holes in it. 

"Y/N," Rooster greeted you with a lack of emotion. He didn't smile at you like the others did, no, he stared at you, attempting to wear your guard down and find out who you really were.

"Hi, Rooster," You smiled, feeling a little uncomfortable under his hard gaze. Out of everyone, you wanted Rooster's approval the most. He was the closest thing Maverick had to family, and it mattered a lot to you that he liked you. You shuffled in Maverick's arms, your fingers anxiously beginning to fiddle with the sleeves of his leather jacket. Your fiancé noticed your nervous habit take hold, and he quickly spoke to break the awkward silence that had fallen upon the group of you all.

"Another round, guys?" Maverick questioned, raising his brows as he glanced at the aviators surrounding him. They all nodded and said a chorus of pleas and thanks. "Alright, Y/N, can you help me?" He looked down at you, his hand coming up to rub your arm in a soothing manner. Maverick's voice hauled you from the tense staring competition with Rooster and you suddenly felt at ease as you nodded at his question, his roughened hands slipping down to interlock with yours. "Let's go." Leaning down, he murmured against your ear.

Rooster watched you and Maverick walk away, a quiet scoff leaving his lips. Phoenix sighed at him, her eyes rolling. "Bradshaw, what is your problem?" She groaned, folding her arms tightly against her chest in an expression of irritation.

"I don't have a problem," He grumbled, shoving past her to plonk himself down on a barstool in the corner of the bar. The female aviator followed him in a hot pursuit to find out what was making him act like such a dick to you.

"Are we really gonna do it like this?" Phoenix huffed, a hand coming out to gesture at his poor behaviour. "Maverick is finally happy, why can't you see that and be happy for him too?" Her brows knitted together as her eyes searched his face for an answer, or at least a sign as to why he was acting like this.

"You're not seeing what I'm seeing, Phoenix," He said coldly, glaring up at her. "Y/N doesn't love him, she's just here for a good time, not a long time." Rooster finally said, shrugging limply as he looked up at Phoenix. She frowned at him, as Payback and Bob suddenly stood by her side. "Bob and Payback agree with me."

"What?" Phoenix scoffed, turning to look at the two aviators expectantly.

"That ain't true, Rooster, and you know it," Payback groaned. He rolled his eyes at the younger Bradshaw, a short frustrated puff of air escaping his lips. "We're happy for Mav, believe me, but the age gap is just a little too big, I mean what the hell do they have in common?"

"I don't know why you guys are so bothered by something so insignificant," Phoenix shook her head, her frustrated voice making Bob glance at her. "They truly love each other, and Rooster, you would see it if you actually made an effort to get to know Y/N. All you do is fuckin' sit in the corner and sulk, glaring daggers at them all night." She complained. Rooster averted his gaze to the table, avoiding Phoenix's intense stares. Deep down he knew his friend was right, he hadn't even got to know you and he's already made assumptions based on something so small. "You know what, sit here and grumble about Mav finally finding someone, I don't care." She finally huffed, turning around on her heel and storming off to find Hangman and you and Maverick. Payback and Bob stared at each other, not knowing their next move.

Rooster's fingers drummed against the wooden table as he debated whether to get up and make an effort, or continue his little pity party. "She's right, Rooster." Payback spoke quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder. Rooster's eyes shot up to look at Payback, his fingers slowing down to a gentle tap as he gave a single nod.

"C'mon," Bob mumbled, nudging Payback with his elbow as he edged away from the table, advancing towards the ruckus blaring from the squad behind them. Rooster was left alone to simmer in his thoughts, his eyes slowly lifting to search for your figure in the sea of beige uniforms. He spotted you with Maverick of course. Bradley couldn't help the roll of his eyes, grinding his teeth as you threw your head back in laughter at something Hangman said.

His eyes stopped on Maverick as he watched a natural smile spread across his tanned cheeks, his teeth poking out happily beneath his lips. As Phoenix and Hangman walked away from you two, you turned around to face Maverick, your hands coming up to snake around his neck, pulling yourself as close as you could into his arms. A soft giggle left your lips and Maverick grinned down at you, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. Rooster looked away at the sweet moment you shared with his God-father, the guilt ripping into him as his thoughts pulled him away to a long time ago.

a year ago

Rooster stood beside Maverick, his arms reaching up to twist a spanner against a bolt in the plane that his God-father was rebuilding. He had forgiven Maverick about Goose's death, finally letting go of the resentment he held so close to him. It made him miserable, and he just wanted to rid himself of it. Rooster had seen the light in Maverick's personality and it gave him hope for the future of their relationship.

"Alright, now you're gonna want to replace that old cylinder with this new one," Maverick grunted as he bent down to fetch the aforementioned part, his white tee dirtied with grease and mud. Bradley looked down and hummed in reply, his greased up fingers taking the cylinder in his hand. "So, just gently twist it, and it should just pop out." Bradley did so, and it popped out with a soft click. "Nice, good job." Maverick grinned, the overwhelming feeling of pride and proudness swept over his figure.

"Thanks, Mav, so what now?" Bradley chuckled, his moustache twitching upwards as he glanced between the new cylinder and Maverick's focused features.

"You click the new one back into place where the old one was," He replied, pointing at the empty space. "You know, you're much better at this than Y/N," Maverick laughed and Bradley felt his body go tense at the mention of your name. He tried to push aside the venom that bubbled at the back of his throat as he did as Maverick said, the satisfying click of the cylinder sliding into place echoing in the hanger. There was a moment of silence.

"You're still together then?" Bradley asked, his face hardening.

"Yeah, she's a really nice girl." Maverick smiled. His mind filled with memories of the two of you, the sound of your raucous laughter echoing in his head.

"Surprised she hasn't left you for the next old man," Bradley said through gritted teeth, and he instantly regretted it as he watched Maverick's smile falter.

"Well, I hope she isn't leaving any time soon." Maverick replied, trying to swallow back the lump in his throat.

Rooster looked back up to where you and Maverick were stood, his eyes welling up with regretful tears. Maybe he was wrong. You looked at Maverick like he was the last man on Earth, and Bradley noticed that as you gazed up at him, your mouth opening to let out a series of laughs as Maverick pressed ticklish kisses against your jawline. You did love him, and Bradley saw that now. It was the way you made Maverick grin, the way you made him hold you so close to his body that he was afraid you were going to crumble into nothingness, and the way he stared at you with nothing but pure love and adoration in his tired, blue eyes.

"Pete!" Bradley heard you giggle, your hands splayed across the back of his neck. A lop-sided smile picked at the corner of Bradley's lips as he observed the pair of you act like you were the only two people in the bar. He watched you melt into Maverick's kisses, his soft and tender touches, and the way you nuzzled your nose against his. He was a fool to think that you were only here for a fun time and not a long time. Maverick deserved someone as sweet and as loving as you, he'd been alone for long enough.

It warmed Bradley's cold heart as he continued to watch you two.

relationship mav is growing on me...

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[tpotr]

Hi my writer, I came to let you know here on Tumbrl as you told me about part 2 of the Aerea-Rhaegal body swap fanfic in which they wake up in their genderless counterparts, thank you in advance.

It's been a while since I've got this req, but hehe, did it. Thank you for sending this in! This is part 2 of this req over here, where Aerea, Rhaegal, Aemma and Daella (Genderbent!Green children, ordered by age) wake up in the bodies of their not genderbent counterparts. This time with actual Daella on screen, lol. This one is more of a feel good fanfic, ngl.

Genderbent!Helaegon | Humor/Fluff | AU of a series | wc: 1995

“Prince Daeron has come, your Grace,” a servant says when they all stand at the hall.

Rhaegal lifts his head in interest, and so do his sisters — or brothers, at the current moment. These bodies they found themselves in had not been theirs, but until they found a solution, he had been degined to wear the dresses. It hasn’t been all that bad; Princess Helaena’s dresses all seemed to have been made of comfortable fabrics and cuts, and Aerea had made sure to stick in his hair as many of insect themed jewels that would be considered palatable to court. Seeing ‘Prince Aegon’ help his wife in the mornings seemed to have left their maids speechless, but they’ve all been shooed away quickly enough. Aemma had quite a bit of thrill herself as ‘Prince Aemond’, getting to know she’s one of the Keep’s most intimidating men.

This Queen Alicent had been different from theirs. Certainly, a mother of three boys and one girl, rather than the other way around. But although not their mother, she had been no less caring or worrisome. They have adjusted to the roles of her children to calm her down, told her all had been a prank, but she insisted they remain by her side for a while.

“My sweet boy,” her brown eyes brighten when she sees a silver-haired boy entering the room. He has eyes of violet, as any of them do, with long light eyelashes framing them. The sun pecked him freckled, soft dotting seeming a blush over his nose bridge. He has a tentative smile on, and his arms hold each other in front of his body as if hiding together under billowing sleeves. “The ride must’ve been long. You should’ve told me you are coming, your room would’ve been prepared.”

Prince Daeron smiles a boyish smile.“It is of no matter, mother,”  He answers softly. Prince Daeron eyes his siblings prolongedly, as if seeking something out. Aemma and Aerea both glance at Rhaegal, a conference of eyes taking place. There must be a reason for this arrival, at this time, Rhaegal thinks, and comes forward towards the boy, trying to make a proud walk as noticeable as possible with skirts of the dress seeking to drown it out. His sisters follow soon behind him.

“Daeron,” he says, reaching for his arm. The name feels odd on his tongue. “How has it been with Uncle Mundy?”

The queen turns to him, lifting a brown brow. “Uncle Mundy?”

The boy’s eyes crinkle to the utmost joy and relief, their glimmer nothing less than starlike in quality. “Well!” Daeron— Daella, now without doubt— and rushes into his embrace. This male form of his youngest sister is surprisingly lanky. He wonders if this is how sisters feel normally; gods, he has never felt so short.

Perhaps now he could understand his wife’s tantrums of being the smallest of them four. Unfortunately for her, Prince Aegon’s height has only elevated her one spot on that list, and she had been quick to make note of it. “This is ridiculous,” she says annoyedly, when Daella lets him go. Prince Aegon’s hand reaches up to Prince Daeron’s hair, as if to level him. “Who allowed you to become a tree?”

Daella chuckles, coming to hug her and Aemma as well. They are stuck in this position, them all, but at least they are together. 

“We should see what you have become on the training yard,” Aemma says, keeping a calm tone, although laced with intrigue. Prince Aemond had a menacing appearance to him, with a strong jaw and the most conniving of looks, but his lips earned a cat-like grin when Aemma spoke. There may be a chance that it was natural to that body, but Rhaegal could tell Aemma had been excited. “Things are quite different, now.” 

They both turn to Ser Criston naturally. The man blinks at the both from Alicent’s side; it is clear that they needn't have any of his permission here. He only proceeds to clarify. “At this moment, my Prince?” 

The grin on Prince Aemond’s face is undoubtedly Aemma’s. “Yes.”

Aerea snorts, and Rhaegal tries to keep himself from chuckling too. Even in the male bodies, Daella grabs onto Aemma to drag her forward, locking arms with one another. Despite the odd, almost resigned looks from Alicent and Criston, Rhaegal brings his own arm to lock with Aerea and go after them. 

It makes the Queen and the Kingsguard even further confused, but he minds it not. Today, Prince Aegon and Princess Helaena walk hand in hand, and Rhaegal will enjoy every minute of it.

— 

It is a storm of swords between his sisters in the yard.

They make the fullest of every moment. Each clank of a sword earns them intense cheers from the crowd of watching bystanders, and it is quite a crowd; long it has been since two princes sparred each other on this yard, it appears. It had never been a primary interest of his, but he feels odd now, watching from the sidelines himself. 

He leans his head against Prince Aegon’s shoulder. That body is surprisingly not that different in softness from his wife’s, although he can’t say it is quite the same, either. Still, it’s comforting within all this noise and strangeness. 

“Sulking?” she asks. It sounds a drier remark in the lower voice she attained herself. He keeps his lips lined.

“No, it is only…” he trails off. The violet gaze of hers is no less piercing as a prince, and the rise of an eyebrow is just as pointed. We agreed on honesty, he reminds himself. He will not break that promise here, even if they spoke that promise from different lips. “Yes.”

Aerea hums and brings a finger to his lips. “I rather like the pout, you know.”

Rhaegal believes she is more inclined to squeeze and hold him as much as possible at the moment. She certainly did not hold back on testing the differences in intimacy. It had been as awkwardly funny as it had been oddly pleasing. He still can’t fathom some sensations that he had felt, and she had made a point to laugh at his relentlessly at some of his questions — but then again, he similarly got to laugh at when she realized fucking is quite a different job from being fucked.

But some natural instincts helped, or one may assume even muscle memory. Prince Aegon and Princess Helaena had a third child, unlike them. Maelor, his mind supplies again, with the image of an infant holding at the edge of his cradle and babbling relentlessly. 

He thinks some wistfulness conquered them both. By the time he leaves this body, he wonders if the princess would be left with a fourth. 

Either way, Rhaegal bites the finger in his vicinity. Aerea yelps away, pouting at him now. Prince Aegon has a plump pout himself. “And I like yours,” he chuckles and looks back at the scene in front of him. He smiles at his younger sisters, resigning himself to observe. This is a sobering moment; yes, he had not enjoyed swordplay for the sparring itself, but he thinks he can understand Aemma and Daella more fully now that he is not to be included. 

From the sidelines, the joy on their faces is enviable; it looks so very fun. He has taken training for granted in his lifetime. He will have to do his best to keep being dedicated and thankful to Criston when he returns to his body.

Rhaegal does hope it will be rather soon. He misses his children, and his mother, and the abilities to hold his wife with no ogling and join his sisters’ in their spars freely.

“Oi,” Aerea huffs at some squire to her left. It is amusing to hear her attempts at impersonating male speech. It nearly brings a smile to his face, but soon enough she completes the sentence whole. “Bring me a sword!”

He squeezes his wife’s upper arm, looking at her confused. He knows not about Prince Aegon, but he could count the times Aerea has held swords in her hands on one palm. “You never liked sparring,” he says, eyebrow lifting. Their sisters would know to be mindful of her inexperience, but she doesn’t even like it. Why would she leave his side for it?

Aerea brings a hand to squeeze on his side in response. The squire returns hastily with a sword in hand, offering it to him. “My prince,” he says, and Aerea takes the sword with little care, the grip on his waist seemingly stronger than the hold on the steel. 

“Prince Aegon is joining the fray!” Someone calls. The excited audience claps in excitement, and even Queen Alicent and Ser Criston eye him with intrigue. The princes in the midst of the circle turn to them with confusion that matches his.

Aerea dispels it very quickly. “Dimwit,” she says aloud, “who told you that? It’s not for me,” she turns back to him. “It’s for my wife.” 

Ah?

That is met with a deafening silence.

“Aegon, what is this nonesense—” Alicent begins, and Rhaegal feels as if he is watching his mother from years back come alive again. Aerea hadn’t bothered with their mother’s complaints then, and she isn’t bothered by them now, only shoving the sword in the smooth hands of Princess Helaena, and patting him to move forward.

He first stares at his wife, surprised.The sword feels heavier than how it usually does, and certainly the dress is not quite the proper garb for this activity. However, he had trained and fought with swords in many situations in years past, even when it was inconvenient. Aerea knows that too, he reminds himself, and for a moment smiles at the sword as warmth rushes down him.

Go on, that is the message. And he knows his sisters would not allow for anyone to object.

Aerea is steadfast despite the complaints coming her way. Aemma and Daella also care none for the shock among the observers, they return to a starting stance in front of him. He laughs when he sees Ser Criston balking at them; now this Criston might want to put an end to this before anything starts, but his Ser Criston would remind him to not waste an opportunity to take first strike. 

Rhaegal grips the sword better, and rushes forward to enter that dance.

Swords clank in a nostalgic symphony. Words die down somewhere between the third of fourth strike he blocks. The audience’s yapping even turns into amused ones when Aemma and his team up  to make Daella yield first. Prince Daeron has fallen to his back first, in full hearty laughter.  

Aemma turns back to him, sword pointed towards him as she circles him. “Let it be said it is not the dress that would make you lose, sister,” he says. I would know, are the words that remain unspoken. Prince Aemond may have intimidating features, but the contesting tilt of his sister is all the same. 

Rhaegal grins; it is a game, and he’ll play along. “It would not need to be said if I win, right?”

“Get him!” Aerea yells loudly from the sidelines. She holds Alicent by the hand, making the stressed, shocked queen cheer alongside her. Daella has retreated to stand by Criston, who seems so bewildered he has been rendered speechless. The rest of the audience, however, seems to have been enjoying the show. 

There are many people to please. Wife, sisters, audience, who not? Rhaegal picks up the sword, and lunges forward. In this circle of surprise and cheer however, he himself feels he has already won.

This is odd work for the body he is in, but he puts his best foot forward as swords meet again. He may as well leave this body knowing he gave Princess Helaena her own victory, too.

#'uncle mundy' best code for 'are u genderswapped bestie?' #helaegon #aegon ii targaryen #helaena targaryen #aemond targaryen #daeron targaryen #hotd #hotd fanfic #*aereagal #*aerea #*rhaegal #*aemma #*daella #*alicent #*criston #*reqs #*fanfics #*answered

[rapid-looser]

Leverage.

C!technoblade x gn!reader

a/n: this is inspired by the song 'Woe To The People Of Order', Cami-Cat's cover. Requests are still open, I'm just lacking motivation right now.

Can be read as Romantic or Platonic

Pronouns: They/Them

Request: Yes/No

★

Technoblade found it odd when you weren't in your house, which was located about 500 blocks from his. You had promised him you'd help him with planting a new bunch of potatoes in his third garden. So he searched in your armour room, which you would be sometimes, usually making new armour just incase a war broke out. You were quite advanced in armoury, as you had been taught at a young age. That was one of the main reasons you were sought out to join the syndicate. Not only that, but your neutral opinion on governments. As long as you were left in peace, you wouldn't take down a government, but if said government disturbed your peaceful life, you'd help in some way to bring it down. At first, Technoblade wouldn't talk to you unless it involved anything about armour or tools. But over time, he slowly started trusting you and taking to you more, as well as asking you to help him with his garden. After about 7 months, he considered you a friend. He couldn't find you anywhere in your house, but as he went into your kitchen, he found a note on your table. "If your trying to find [name], their with me. And unless you come to Las Nevadas for a rematch, they'll loose all their canon lives. Make your choice Technoblade, because i won't wait forever. -Quackity".

As he neared the end of the note, the voices began demanding Quackity's head, While some of the other voices were worried for your well-being. As he finished reading the note, more of the voices started demanding Quackity's head. The louder the voices grew, the harder he found it to control his anger. Yes he retired, but quackity had taking someone that he shown compassion to. He placed the note down and started making his way back to his house. Once he arrived, he opened his ender chest, and equipped his axe, grabbed a few potions of healing and regeneration and put on his armour. His door opened, and Phil stepped in. "Mate, where are you going?" He said as he neared his old friend, Technoblade. "Quackity wanted a rematch, and instead of asking straight up, he took [name], as leverage, I'm assuming." He replied, as he got up and walked towards the coat rack, where his coat and his mask were. "Mate, are you sure it isn't a trap? You settled your score with him last time. And he wouldn't risk loosing another life, would he?" Phil mumbled, more to himself then technoblade. "It doesn't matter if it's a trap or not Phil, he knows what leverage does to people, and he'd be the only one in the server that would ask for a rematch. If worse comes to worse, I'll ask you to come and help me." He spoke, after a few seconds. And with that, he got on Carl before Phil could reply to him, and rode towards the coordinates which was on the note.

Once he neared the coordinates, he stopped, and tied Carl up to a tree, out of site. He got his axe out, and walked the rest of the way to the coordinates. Once he arrived, he saw quackity with full netherite armour on, and you, with lava below you. "Let's just get to the point. If you drop all your armour, and weapons, I'll let [name] go, and they won't get harmed. If you don't, they get dropped into the lava below them." He said, once he saw technoblade. "After that, you'll return to the prison, and I'll let [name] leave entirely. Do not try any funny business, because I've got Sam waiting 700 blocks away, and he's got full netherite armour as well." He continued, not waiting for technoblade to reply to his last statement. "So you ask for a rematch, then you threaten to harm someone who has nothing to do with this? That's kinda lame don't you think?" He replied, sarcastically. A few seconds pasted, before he reached for his axe and Quackity in the shoulder. "Fuck- you've fucked up Technoblade." He said, while backing up from technoblade and drinking a potion of healing. "SAM, PULL THE LEVER" He yelled, while pulling out his sword. Not long after that, the cobblestone floor beneath you started to disappear and the lava started to become obvious underneath you. "Well fuck this isn't gonna end well" you said as you went towards the edge of the floor, ignoring the fighting that was happening around you.

Just as the floor was about to entirely disappear, someone threw you a totem or undying, which you caught in a matter of seconds. "You better hope that you die a quick death quackity, because I'll personally torture you to death if your dying to me." Technoblade said as he removed his axe from Quackity's throat, which has been there a few seconds prior. "Leave me be, and leave them as well. And if i see you one more time, you'll be killed for sure." He continued speaking, as he stood up entirely and put his axe away.

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

#dsmp x reader #dsmp fic #technoblade x reader #c!techo x reader #c!technoblade x reader #dsmp techno #techno x you #techno x reader

[bodhranwriting]

So. One thing about my writing is I tend to include cool old men. I don’t know why (I do know why, I miss my grandpa a lot), but I’d just like to see which one is the coolest/most interesting.

I had several complaints about not putting the reading first so, apologies.

1. Gideon Laurence “Six” Sixsmith (The Arcane Skies trilogy)

“How could you have been so…”

Stupid wasn’t the right word. Sixsmith wasn’t stupid. He was – in Emmett’s opinion – quite clever, if not well-educated. It was the lack of long-term planning which infuriated him.

If they’d both been given a keg of explosives and told to blow up a bridge to stop an advancing army, Emmett would have spent an inordinate amount of time calculating the exact force about to be exerted, the reach of the shockwave, and what would happen to the remnants, until he got a bullet in his head when the army arrived. Sixsmith would have lit the fuse before the commander had finished speaking and probably still been standing on the bridge.

Emmett still remembered his friend’s completely bewildered reaction to his first grey hair – the man had no right to have survived to adulthood let alone old age.

2. Professor Theodore Vincent (Flies in Amber)

She remembered him as a distant speck behind a lectern: a stout man with owlish spectacles and a gruff, taut voice who very matter-of-factly had laid out the realities in becoming a necrotic archaeologist.

Those facts had included the assertion of why he was so admired. While none of his discoveries had individually been as earth-shattering as his contemporaries, he had been steady and consistent in uncovering the pertinent, careful minutiae of the past. And, unlike, his contemporaries, he was still alive and not being treated for ‘nerves’ or ‘alcoholism’.

Some of that lustre was shedding, however, the longer she watched the exchange. The youth – his assistant, Beckett assumed – looked on the verge of tears, scrambling to gather the manuscripts as Professor Vincent loomed over him.

3. Albany “Alby” Kingsfoil (Soul-Glass)

“Alby! It’s me!” I reached out and took his face in my hands, firmly forcing him to look at me. His beard was soft under my palms, his skin as weatherbeaten as my own. “Look, it’s just me, I’m sorry.”

He groaned softly and batted my hands away. “‘Lene, don’t -“ the sentence dissolved into a bout of coughing and he laid his head on the edge of the table.

I took a step closer and squeezed his shoulder. “You bastard,” I murmured, “you lied about feeling better.”

“I do -“ his voice was muffled - “but you caught me off-guard, that’s all.” He raised his head and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “Besides, nobody looks the pinnacle of perfection and vitality when you petrify them near perdition.”

I opened my mouth to defend myself when I noticed the half smile hovering around the corner of his mouth.

I threw up my hands. “I’m looking up that sentence later, I don’t think those words mean what you think they do.”

But Alby smiled properly and that made the sun come out again.

4. Lord Felix Nereus Lucius Antonio Thorne (Captain Alaric’s Demise)

Thorne stopped.

Now the sensible thing to do on a night like this, with a winter storm starting to whip up the ocean outside, would be to explore further one of his partially mapped tunnels. He would be deeper in the caves, yes, but he knew, at least, what to expect. He could move more quickly and wasn’t likely to get… distracted. He wouldn’t have to worry as much about getting lost. He knew vaguely where the corridors narrowed and where the ocean seeped in and where the ceilings sloped.

It was the sensible option so therefore he ignored it.

The third tunnel was wide, the mouth black as tar.

Thorne took a breath and walked inside.

5. Sebastiaan “Bas” Hanse (Dmitry Donne, Detective for Fun)

“I’ve got a spare room,” he said finally. “And honestly, company might be nice. But you’re gonna have to pitch in for the rent.”

Bas looked up at him, wide-eyed. “Really?”

“Really.” Dmitry offered his hand. “C’mon. It’s getting cold.”

Levering the bigger man to his feet was harder than he’d thought and it turned out Bas’ bag had split at some point so it was another ten minutes before they bid farewell to Katerina and were walking towards the Silk District.

“You’re sure about this, Dmitry?”

Dmitry nodded. “I think so. Besides, can’t resist taking strays apparently.” He pursed his lips and added, “I could use your talents, actually. Being able to see the future would be very useful in my line of work.”

“I can’t see the future.”

“Of course you can.”

“Don’t be silly. I’ve just got good intuition.”

Dmitry eyed him.

“I think I’d know if I was a seer.”

“Yeah… silly of me. Your, uh, “intuition”, then.”

“You think so?”

Dmitry exhaled heavily.

“Pretty sure.”

“That’s… brilliant.” Bas beamed at him. “Sounds fun, actually, I enjoyed assisting. It’s almost as fun as acting. By the way, did I say thank you for saving my life?”

“Yes. Five times.”

“Make it six. Thanks.”

They walked on in silence. Gentle flakes started spiralling down.

“Do you cook?” Bas asked suddenly.

“Cook? Sort of. Why, do you?”

“Oh, yeah. I’ll make dinner.”

“Brilliant.”

“Do you like fish?”

“Fish would be great.”

#writeblr #writing #deaf #arcane skies #queer #fantasy #i’m writing a book #steampunk #long post

[cyantomatos]

Even Stars Will Fall - CH 8

Pairing: Eventual Oberyn Martell x fem!Reader x Ellaria Sand Word Count: ~2.8k Warnings: Rylan is no longer just a creep, he is upgraded to Bad Person TM, misogyny disguised as being helpful, talk of how bastards are treated in GoT world Notes: Little bit of a note for this chapter, I mention Ellaria's kids and the children Oberyn had before her in this one. I did all the research I could short of reading the books before I wrote this whole fic, including my own timeline of events, but there isn't a whole lot of info about Oberyn's children. I'm sure pretty much everything I say about them other than their ages in this is inaccurate, but I'm not planning on them really playing into the plot much, so I'm willing to deal with it. I'm sorry if it upsets anyone though! Also, this is the last chapter I have written in advance, so while I promise there won't be as big of a gap this time as when it took me a year to update, I'm not sure when further chapters will be up. Fingers crossed it's soon, we're about 70% done with the story! (I think)

Last Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

As it turns out, there is actually quite a lot of work that goes in to preparing a name-day celebration for a prince.

Even with the celebration just over a week away, there were more servants bustling about the palace than there normally was. There were extra rooms to prepare for the guests, food that could be made in advance to lighten the load the day of, and some decoration was already taking place as well. The grand hall at the center of the palace that opened onto the spectacular main gardens was already being draped in gold and burnt-orange fabrics since it was rarely used other than for celebrations like this, and the decorations would not get in the way so early before the celebration.

Soloman was busy as well, expertly directing a team of gardeners supplemented with temporary help for the next week in ensuring that the plants in the palace gardens were up to a royal standard. You weren’t sure it was necessary, Solomon spent so much time making sure the gardens were already perfect year round that surely there wasn’t much more that could be done, but he wouldn’t hear it. The prince deserved perfect, so he would get better than perfect.

It meant you had little to occupy your time for a while, however, since your amateur gardening skills would only be in the way.

After the second day that Solomon kindly, if a bit exasperatedly, re-directed you away from the gardens when you offered to help, you weren’t quite sure what to do. One of the passing maids, seeing you standing and staring wistfully out at the busy gardens as she passed by, quietly suggested you check out the palace library. It wasn’t going to be used during the celebrations, she said, so you couldn’t possibly get in the way in there.

That was how you found yourself later that day curled up in a surprisingly deep pile of cushions in the corner of the library in front of a large open window, a stack of books by your side that sounded interesting. You’d expected a palace library to be mostly academically focused, but were pleasantly surprised to find a rather large collection of fiction books.

Ellaria joined you the next day, claiming she was tired of the nervous energy filling the palace in anticipation of Oberyn’s name-day.

The two of you were curled on the numerous cushions, basking in the sun streaming in through the window. Reaching the end of a particularly tense chapter in your book you sighed and set it aside, wincing as you stretched your arms above your head.

“It is not good for you to sit in one position for so long, my dear. Especially hunched over like that.” You turned to see Ellaria smiling softly up at you from where she was lounging at your side, one hand resting on her ever-growing bump, her hair unbound and glowing against the cushions.

You felt heat creeping into your cheeks under her gaze and glanced away, carefully marking your page. “I suppose you’re an expert in being uncomfortable, at this point. How you handle that belly pulling on your back I’ll never understand.”

Ellaria laughed, tipping her head back into the sun and closing her eyes. “You become accustomed to it after a while. It helps that this is not my first, I knew what to expect.”

You studied her as she spoke, grateful for a little time just to stare at her. You knew people said that pregnant women glowed, but it had always seemed to be an exaggeration to you until Ellaria. Although that could just be her, you wouldn’t be surprised to find she was always radiant, pregnant or not.

“Where are your other children? I don’t think I’ve seen them around the palace. Oberyn also has other children too, right?” Ellaria nodded, absently rubbing over her bump. You doubted she even noticed herself doing it anymore.

“At the Water Gardens, most of the time. Oberyn likes to keep them away from Sunspear and the danger and political intrigue. Dorne is certainly safer for bastard children than some other places, but there are still those that think Oberyn should not claim his children so openly. It is easier if they are not in Sunspear. Safer.” Ellaria’s voice was tinged with sadness as she spoke, and you reached out to slide your hand into hers where it rested on an elaborately embroidered cushion.

Her eyes opened, squinting slightly in the bright light, and she smiled up at you. “I miss them, sometimes, but I agree they are safer where they are. Elia is only five, and Obella three. They do not need to be caught up in all of this. Even Oberyn’s other children are still young, although Nymeria will be fifteen soon. I suspect she will not be content staying away for much longer. Obara is the eldest, nineteen I believe, and she is just like her father. Unable to stay in one place for long, although Oberyn has somewhat grown out of that. She travels, but comes back to visit her siblings and father often.”

Ellaria looked towards the ceiling resting her head back against the cushion again. “Sometimes I wonder how the universe chooses soulmates. I would never claim not to be good enough for Oberyn, nor would he, but it would have been much simpler had my soulmate not been a prince.”

You leaned forward, smiling softly and dropping your voice almost to a whisper. “It could have also been much worse. Imagine your soulmate was Northern. I don’t think you’d survive anywhere that got anything close to cold.”

Ellaria’s laugh echoed around your bubble in the shelves, her eyes swimming with joy when they slid back to your face. “You are right about that, my dear. I am not built for northern men and their stone castles.”

A polite cough interrupted your laughter, and you turned towards the sound with an apology already on your lips, assuming it was one of the librarians come to scold you for being too loud. Instead, the words died just about as quickly as your joy when you saw Rylan standing at the gap between shelves, grinning at the two of you.

“Apologies, ladies. I was told that you had been spending your time in the library to get away from the commotion, but I was not aware you had company.” You were instantly even more grateful than before that Ellaria had decided to join you. The idea of Rylan being able to catch you on your own, isolated as you were so far back in the shelves, set off alarm bells in your mind.

“Well, I am just as useless with the preparations as she is, and to be honest I would not want to participate even if I could. So I decided what better way to spend my day than hidden in the library with one of my favorite people?” Ellaria’s smile was sharp, although you were sure you only knew the difference because of so long spent around her. To Rylan it likely only looked polite, although his own smile turned somewhat forced as he looked first to Ellaria and then to where your hands were still clasped against the cushions.

“A wonderful idea.” You could swear the words hurt Rylan with the way he ground them out. He looked back to you then, taking a step further into your little sitting area, and you had to suppress the urge to ask him not to enter your space.

“What can we do for you, Lord Rylan?” His plastered-on smile faltered again at the emphasis you placed on his title.

“Actually, I was hoping to speak to you privately, my dear.” Before you could insist whatever he had to say could be said in front of Ellaria, her hand was already slipping from yours. You turned to her, indignant at her being so quick to abandon you, but something in her eyes when they locked on yours told you she wouldn’t be going far, anyway.

You looked back to Rylan with a smile as Ellaria rose off the cushions, taking a moment to steady herself with a hand on her belly. “Of course, my lord.”

Rylan stepped aside enough to allow Ellaria to pass, waiting a moment after she was gone before taking a few more steps towards you. You suddenly realized you did not want to be sitting practically on the ground with him so close and pushed yourself to your feet, a flash of irritation burning through you at Rylan’s offered hand after he had only stood and watched Ellaria struggle on her own.

You avoided his hand, pulling yourself to your feet and clasping your hands in front of you. “What did you want to speak to me about?”

Rylan studied you for a moment, and something about his gaze made you suddenly feel like a cow on an auction block with the way he seemed to be counting everything valuable about you. His eyes never left your face, but you still had to resist the urge to raise your hands to cover yourself.

A moment later he took a breath, charming smile back on his face. “Well, my dear, I have a proposition for you.”

You couldn’t think of a worse thing to hear out of his mouth.

“As it seems you may be stuck in our world for the foreseeable future, possibly permanently, considering I have not heard of any progress being made on figuring out how you even got here in the first place, you are in a precarious position. You are a young, unmarried woman, with no male relatives to advocate for you, living on the charity of the princes because of my cousin's fascination with you. However…” He trailed off, his smile taking on a rueful tilt. “My cousin’s affections can be somewhat...fickle.”

You straightened at that, more annoyance than usual tickling at the back of your brain. “I don’t like what you’re insinuating, my lord. Oberyn is my friend, Ellaria as well. Neither of them would turn me out like that, and Doran is not cruel enough for that either.”

Rylan tilted his head, spreading his hands placatingly. “I am not saying they would, my dear, but you must admit that you are currently dependent on their generosity. I would simply see you safe in your own right, not dependent on two princess to remain generous.” Crossing your arms you took a half step back, a pit of dread beginning to form in your stomach at where this conversation was heading. “And what would you propose as a solution?”

At your question, Rylan’s smile grew. “I would like to propose marriage, my dear. To me.”

You were wrong. There was something worse.

It took a moment for his words to fully register for you, and you couldn’t help letting out a short, incredulous laugh once they did. “What?” Rylan’s smile didn’t falter this time, and he took an eager step towards you. “I have been looking for a wife for some time. I am afraid that next to my cousins I am not as appealing of a prospect for most women, despite having considerable wealth and a title of my own. You are beautiful, my dear, and strong. Marriage to me would keep you safe, provide you with a comfortable life that you would not be in danger of losing on a whim.” His words filled your mind, setting off so many alarm bells you could hardly concentrate. You took a step back, trying to maintain space between the two of you, but Rylan only stepped closer until your back was against a shelf and he was only inches away.

He took your hand, holding tightly when you failed to fight the urge to snatch your hand away. Rylan’s eyes were wide now, and in the back of your mind it registered that he looked slightly unhinged as he continued.

“Oberyn already has his soulmate, my dear, as does Ellaria. You are nothing but an intriguing diversion to the two of them. I would cherish you, as my wife, shower you with jewels and fine clothes. You would never have to lift a hand again if you did not wish it. Oberyn has the title, yes, but I could give you so much more than he can, my love, and our children-”

You yanked your hand out of his, the idea of having children with the man standing in front of you enough to break you from your panic. Placing a hand firmly on Rylan’s chest you shoved, forcing him back a few steps to give you room to breathe.

“Enough! Why on earth would you think I would marry you, Rylan?” Mixed emotions spread across his face as he stared at you, no doubt the confusion at your reaction warring with surprise at you finally dropping his title in your annoyance and anger.

“What?” he seemed genuinely confused, and it only angered you further.

“Why. Would. I. Marry. You.” You enunciated slowly.

Rylan only continued to stare at you for a moment. “I...I just explained what you would gain…” You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Yes, a title I don’t want, money and gowns and jewels I don’t want, a marriage to you I don’t want, and children with you that I would never in a million years want.” You were the one to step forward this time, the anger seething beneath your skin giving you confidence you otherwise wouldn’t have. “I don’t need a man to protect me, my lord, and I would certainly not put you on the list of potential suitors even if I did need one. I am happy with my place, with Oberyn and Ellaria.”

Rylan seemed genuinely shocked by your reaction, and a small part of you almost felt bad for how thoroughly he must have deluded himself into thinking you would react positively. That small part was quickly stomped out, however, when he drew himself up to his full height, anger spreading across his face.

The lord took a step closer to you, and this time you refused to step back and let him have that ground.

“I would be careful how you speak to me, my dear. I am not a man to be disrespected so brazenly.” You glared right back up at him, keeping your spine straight through sheer force of will powered by indignation despite how you wanted to run from this confrontation.

“And I am not a woman to be so easily intimidated, my lord. I am not from here, you cannot treat me the same as you can women from here.” You leaned back just slightly, letting your eyes scan condescendingly over him. “Not that it really seems to be working even on women from your world, either. How long have you been looking for a wife, exactly? Struggling to find one outside of your cousins shadow?”

It was almost like you slapped him, the way he flinched at your words. You’d known the lord was jealous of his cousin, it was obvious really, but it seemed to hit home a little harder than you’d expected.

Rylan stared at you for a moment, and the charged silence was almost enough to make you lose your nerve. When he finally stepped back you had to resist the urge to let out a breath. He took a few more steps back, glaring at you the whole time, before raising a finger towards you.

“Some advice, my dear, for surviving in this world. Do not make powerful men angry.” Before you could respond he turned, stalking out the gap between the shelves that served as an entrance to your little area.

The moment he was out of sight you nearly deflated, shoulders slumping as one of your hands groped for a shelf to hold yourself up. Your other hand reached for your necklace, the swirled blue gem sitting warmly against your chest. You’d taken to fidgeting with it in moments where you needed calm, and it always seemed to soothe you the moment you touched it.

You heard soft footsteps a moment later and looked up in alarm, expecting to see Rylan there ready to force your hand. Instead, you saw Ellaria standing in the gap between shelves, eyes wide in alarm. You realized she must have stayed near enough to hear the whole conversation, concerned to leave you totally alone with him.

She took a step towards you, and you suddenly found you couldn’t hold yourself up anymore, the adrenaline from the last few moments finally seeping out of you. You slid down to your knees against the shelf and Ellaria rushed forward, kneeling in front of you as steadily as she could.

“Are you all right? Did he touch you?” Her words came out in a rush and you shook your head, reaching out shakily for her hand.

“No, no, he didn’t touch me. I just…” You couldn’t find the words, but Ellaria seemed to understand, leaning her forehead against yours as you both closed your eyes. Ellaria’s voice also shook as she gripped your hand tightly.

“It will be alright, my dear. Everything will be okay. No one could take you from us. No one.”

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[idontknowreallywhy]

Estera Ch 2 - Dinosaur

(Previous parts - Stars, Ch 1)

Right so… this got longer than planned, and I’m not even half as sure about it as the previous part. But I’m quite excited about future sections which I’ve already partly-written and if I keep faffing with this section, I’ll never get to those before I lose steam/confidence entirely so… eh. Herewith a sort of transitional section.

One day I may rewrite it a bit when I’ve had more practice at Plot. Until then, *flings words and apologises in advance for slowness/clunkiness*.

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It had truly been the most uneventful school trip she’d ever supervised. 

The hour-long coach journey had provoked no vomiting (a first!), everyone had remembered (and eaten!) their own lunch, there had been no injuries (given the path from the visitor centre down to the caves had been very slippery indeed this was borderline miraculous!) and minimal complaining about the need to wear the safety hats (particularly after little Alex had piped up “even the Thunderbird pilots wear helmets you know”).

Even the squabbling had been fairly low level, bar some recurring hostility over dinosaur preferences.

They’d been split into three groups of 10 children, a teaching assistant, a parent and a guide with each of the other groups. Due to last minute illness, she covered the final 10 solo, aside from their very knowledgable tour-guide, but the children really had been on excellent form and she’d actually begun to relax and enjoy the day. 

Quietly inserting herself between two girls who were about to come to blows about the relative merits of the triceratops and velociraptor she did some top notch ‘distract and divert’ and the pair sped off to find the answer to her question among the didactic panels of the Stone Age display. 

School trips were alright really.

The guide left them to explore the final cave while she popped back up the tunnel to radio through to the next group. Estera leaned back against the wall and smiled. Then sneezed violently. Must be all the dust.

Wait, dust? 

She looked behind her and sure enough a fine sheet of dust was flowing down the surface of the wall. She put her hand into it and pressed her fingertips into the cold stone. It was vibrating. That… was probably not a good sign.

In a calm, cheerful voice that she was sure couldn’t have originated from her panic-constricted throat, she called the children to the centre of the room with the idea that they could head for the passageway together. The sudden shifting of shadows together with the faint rumbling, rushing noise at the limit of her hearing made her feel slightly vertiginous

“Quickly please” a little more urgent now.

Everyone froze as a creaking sound accompanied the next wild swooping of lights and she realised the false ceiling suspended above the front half of the cave to disguise the gear for atmospheric lighting and projections was swinging too and fro. Not that way then. She dragged the nearest three children to the wall furthest from the door. “Back here everybody! Now!” All but one rushed towards her, the one standing mesmerised by the swaying lights above.

“ALEX!!”

He turned, wide-eyed, and ran… and tripped and fell forwards and as she reached out to him the creak became a screech, the lights went out and the subsequent crash made her ears ring.

The rumble became a roar and everything was dark and dust.

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Spitting out dust, Estera scrabbled for her phone and flicked the torch on, dazzling herself. She tried to force her eyes to adjust more quickly as her head spun and called out softly, trying to calm the terrified children she could hear beginning to cry.

“Be brave, my little ones, we’ll be ok. Can you call your numbers as we practised?”

“One” a nervous voice piped up behind her. That was Bee.

“Two” 

“Three”

“F-F…. Fourrrrr”

She found and grabbed Sam’s hand and squeezed it as he sobbed “Well done honey. Ok, who was Five?”

“Me, Five” A cough. “I don’t like it, the air tastes wrong”.

“I think it’s just dust, Xanthe, but it’s not very nice is it. Why don’t we all try a clever trick - try pulling your sleeve down past your hand then put it over your mouth like a mask… like that mysterious super spy in last week’s story…?”

There was shuffling and wriggling as the children transformed themselves into super spies. Estera wasn’t sure how long it would work for but anything that reduced the amount of particles getting into their little lungs had to be worth a try. At least it was just dust… she remembered the panic at the start of the war when the rumours of weaponised chemical agents were rife and all the children would turn up to class with handmade attempts at masks she knew would be utterly ineffective if the day ever came. It made the parents feel better to try though and she would never argue with that… it was better than giving up. Anything was better than giving up.

“Super Spy Six reporting for duty, Miss!”

Oh yes, roll call. Gosh her head was spinning.

“Well done, Rozi, err, keep going”

Numbers seven through nine came in quick succession and then there was a pause. Viscous dread pounded through her veins.

“Alex?”

A little sniff and a whispered “Ten” allayed her fears somewhat until it was followed by “…‘m stuck!” and a terrified sob.

She shuffled towards the voice, using her phone torch to avoid crawling over anybody. A low battery alert popped up on screen. Damn it. She shone the already fading light around the space they had remaining.

“Can anyone see my rucksack?” She’d left it propped up against one of the walls but had entirely lost her bearings and could only hope it had been a wall on the side of the cave that wasn’t currently buried in tonnes of rock.

“It’s here Miss!”

Thank goodness. “In the pocket at the front are everyone’s torches, could you hand them out for me, Rozi?”

Some scrabbling noises and a few “no THAT was mines” later and the cave was flooded with light. A quick visual check of the rapidly blinking, dusty children obediently trying to breathe through their school jumpers was somehow simultaneously heart-warming and crushing.

She turned back to Alex, lying in the corner of their much reduced space, where the false ceiling had partly fallen over his right leg. She crouched and touched his hands and wet panicky eyes looked up at her.

“Does it hurt, Alex?”

A sniff. “Mmm… little bit”

“Can you wiggle your toes?”

Fierce concentration on his face, the young boy confirmed that he could and she breathed a sigh of relief. It could be a lot worse.

“Ok, someone will come and rescue us soon and they will be able to get you out. Until then…” she raised her voice and her eyebrows “What does everyone think about breaking into my emergency jelly snake stash?”

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Time was passing, but Estera had no idea how much of it. Her phone battery had expired, predictably. Some of the kids had watches but she didn’t want to draw attention to how long it had been by asking. They seemed content for now, albeit the best dinosaur debate had restarted and was causing periodic outbreaks of conflict. She’d triggered widespread derision for her answer of ichthyosaur (“plesiosaurs aren’t actually dinosaurs, Miss, just aquatic reptiles!!”) which had at least united them for a time.

She wondered whether to suggest they turn some of the torches off to save the batteries but the kids were enjoying themselves drawing cave paintings of definitely-non-aquatic-reptiles with the packet of chalks she’d found in a forgotten pocket of her rucksack. The jelly snakes were long gone but at least the dust had settled. 

After a minor incident where Xanthe had tried to assist with Alex’s pins and needles by vigorously karate chopping his calf, she and Jeff had laid themselves down on the floor either side of him and together they were blending their favourites into the Ultimate Dinosaur.

They were calm right now and that was good. She wondered how much air was down here and her throat constricted a little, trying to breathe as little as possible as if that would somehow leave more for the children. 

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She supposed it must be getting late now, past the kids’ bedtimes. They were rather quiet, sat around in little groups, some talking a little, some just hugging each other. Sam had curled up on her feet like a large, bony cat and she kept having to nudge him to stop him falling asleep. 

She had tried to keep them chatting but was finding it harder to focus. She supposed the air was becoming bad… the symptoms of hypoxia were part of her first aid training but she was struggling to recall much of it at the moment and began to morbidly hope it would at least be a peaceful passing for them all. She selfishly hoped she’d be first. She didn’t think she could bear to see anyone else die, there had been too many… her mind drifted back to picture the morning her neighbours were dragged into the street… the headteacher marched from the school… her last hug with her brother as he was called up to fight… the boy with the blue eyes.

She mentally slapped the thoughts away, she had to be strong for the little ones.

“What was that, Miss?”

A few of them startled suddenly, and she strained her ears, gradually becoming aware of banging and scratching noises which progressively came closer. Her heart beat faster as she dared to hope.

After a few minutes she was sure she could hear muffled voices behind wall… and began to catch odd seemingly unconnected words… “props”… “oxygen”… “pod”… “wider than me” and “fine”. 

Some more scraping and a shower of small pieces of rock were pushed into the cave from a rabbit-sized hole which had appeared at shoulder height, shortly followed by a small gas canister in a blue gloved hand and a friendly voice:

“International Rescue here, we’re going to get you out of there.”

The children suddenly perked up and cheered.

The owner of the hand chuckled. “Good to hear you guys too. Can somebody take this and turn the dial anti-clockwise - it’ll increase the oxygen levels down here for you.”

Estera did so with shaking hands and took her first deep breath in a long while as the gas hissed into the space.

“Hey, Mr International Rescue, what’s your favourite dinosaur?”

Another hand poked out of the hole

“That…” a grunt, followed by the appearance of two blue-suited arms “is a very important question.”

A lower, more urgent voice interrupted and the first voice muttered something in return before more shuffling and wriggling of the arms.

“My… favourite dinosaur…”

Estera pulled the children away from the wall as more debris fell from the hole.

“… is the Nanotyrannus. Because they were really, REALLY fast.”

A small explosion of sand and pebbles preceded a blue-helmeted head and shoulders emerging into the cave, an arm immediately moving to shield its owner from the glare of the 11 torches currently glinting off the visor.

“It’s Scott, by the way.”

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[Link to Ch 3]

[AO3]

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #idontknowreallywhy fanfic #thunderbirds oc #estera #tw: war #TB Estera