#and now crystal is just covered in salt

[multifandomwhore-003]

Deal? —Scrap

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x female! reader

Genre(s): smut, fluff, a bit angsty if you look closely

Summary: Finding a past love in the bedroom of your best friend's parents can lead to a lot more than just a quick catch-up.

Warnings: smut, fingering, no condoms (wrap it before you tap it), creampie, a bit of breeding link maybe.

Taglist: @dark-night-sky-99 join taglist here

A/N: As much as I wanna be proud of this for being smut and therefore out of my comfort zone, I can't, you see this is what made me realize just how rusty I am in writing,like the fingers are creaking an screeching. Anyways, I tried my best, so... enoy?

Gif credits to whom it belongs

REQUESTS CLOSED

THIS IS NOT FREE USE,YOU CANNOT USE MY WORK

You could say it began right this second, finding yourself wrapped in a perfume that no longer had notes of peach and pear, the hours you had spent wandering around the crowd salted it with cigarettes and perhaps a vodka you shouldn't spending time thinking where it proceeded from. Taking a deep breath to relax was, a bad idea, was it the alcohol or this newfound smell that produced that wooziness? It was just for a couple of seconds at least since you could focus more clearly on the four walls you just stepped in, far too big for it being your old best friend's childhood room.

Reaching the windows to scan the city through the glass, glistening with passing cars every once in a while.

"Julie, you crazy bitch," you chuckled remembering how she had just recently bought the whole place to herself, including everything inside it, wanting to neglect her parents as much as they did her back when she was far too young to thirst revenge.

You could tell she hadn't changed anything, the side tables slightly covered with dust still, and the framed pictures of the "happy" couple on the shelves. She hadn't even dared to pull out her father's Cuban cigars she was always so curious about, the plastic around the rim being intact. Your curiosity peeked remembering her mother this time, the beautiful clothes that adorned her seemingly flawless frame, you paced quite rapidly to the walk-in closet, flicking through the infinite number of shoes and bags, finally reaching the hangers.

You didn't think twice before pulling out the most exquisite structure you ever laid your eyes on, lines curving in all the preferable places, covered in red hand-sewn crystals that matched the rest of the smooth fabric, invisible stitching, it was art. —It could pass as a Mugler— you thought, perhaps it was knowing none of Julie's things were ever cheap. You hesitated for a second contemplating your next actions.

"Fuck it," you began getting rid of the pink that had been covering your body the entire time, "She did say she was gonna gift me some anyway," you murmured. You could jump in excitement seeing how absolutely mesmerizing you looked, reflecting light that could easily be produced by your smile alone.

Before you had time to reach your phone from the bed the door closed, followed by rapid exhaling, you furrowed your brows, worrying more about the posible anxious someone.

"Are you okay?" you stepped out slowly.

The man jumped slightly, "Sorry, I'll leave," he began his exit.

"Don't, it's okay, you can stay here," you lowered your voice placing a hand on his arm carefully, "Do you need anything? Do you wanna leave?"

"No, I'm fine, I'm just-" he tried recovering his breath.

"It's okay take your time," you granted him a slight smile.

"I had to get out of there," he grinned, slightly more relaxed.

"What happened?"

"I was being ambushed,"

"By who?"

"Everyone,"

"Oh shit," you said a bit shocked, "What are you famous or something?" you tried to joke.

"I- I don't like using that word," he finally turned around.

"Okay, we'll use popular then, how's does that sound?"

"Way better," he was fully comfortable now.

"Ok Mr. Popular, do you wanna stay here the whole night? Or I can take you to the stairs and call you and Uber to be more discreet,"

"In that dress?" he pointed out.

"Oh! This isn't mine I kinda just borrowed it for a second, I'll take it off then," you simplified.

"Please don't, I was just messing with you, I'm Oscar by the way," he extended his hand as a motor raced by lighting his face.

You widened your eyes in a very pleasant surprise, "Oh my god, I knew the voice was familiar, fucking Pastry you should've started there asshole!" you pushed his chest.

With no time to ask you where you knew to call him that, his mind also clicked, "Y/N?"

"Yes, bitch! Oh my god!" you hugged him, "It's been so long, what are you doing here?! How did Julie even contact you?" your smile grew wider.

"Instagram!"

"Makes sense," you laughed embracing him again, "Look at you! You're a man!" you grabbed his shoulders, "Still got a baby face I see," you moved your hands to the edges of his face.

"Rude," he playfully pushed you away.

"Who am I kidding, back then I defended you to death whenever anyone pointed that out," you shrugged.

"They did?!" he found a new offense to that statement.

"Of course they did! Especially my parents,"

"Oh yeah, they never liked me did they?"

You just shook your head making him smile more.

"I would aks you how you've been but I already know, Mr. Rookie of the Year," you mocked, flipping your hair.

"I've been great, you? Did you end up marrying Zach Efron in the end?"

"Hilarious, truly," you squinted your eyes.

"You used to cry laughing at my jokes," he passed by you to sit on the bed.

"Yeah, well," you followed making him move to sit by his side, "In my defense a) I was madly in love with you," you rolled your eyes, "and b)My sense of humor was simpler at the precious age of 15"

"You were crazy about me," he nodded.

"Okay," you placed a hand on his face, "At least I didn't dedicate you a race on international TV which let me remind you! You lost," chuckled at the hilarious memory.

"Oh, I'd forgotten about that!" he slightly slapped his thigh.

"I sure as hell didn't! It was the last race I ever watched,"

"Really?" his head turned suddenly.

"Yes, really, by the time you were on the next one we were beyond over,"

"That's right," he closed his eyes, "I'm sorry for ruining motorsport for you,"

"It's okay," you slapped the air, "The heartbreak was far worse than never having to watch you again,"

"You broke up with me I was the one who was completely shattered,"

"Hey! So was I,"

He crossed his arms, "For how long exactly?"

You bit the inside of your cheek, "A week," you looked away.

"Ouch, I suffered all summer Christmas thanks to you,"

"I'm sorry," you scrunched up your nose.

"Wanna know something embarrassing?"

"More embarrassing than losing that race? I don't think there is anything that can be better than that,"

"What if there is?" he cocked up his head.

"I'll ..." you thought for a second, "I'll tell you my most embarrassing story, deal?"

"Deal," he accepted, "When I wrote to Santa I told him to gift me the golden locket you saw in your favorite movie, the Nutcracker one with Barbie so I could give it to you because all I wanted was your heart back again. Imagine how much I cried when instead all I got was an Xbox,"

You placed a hand to his heart, "Aw, that's adorable, but yeah it sounds pretty embarrassing considering your parents had to read that,"

"Your turn now,"

"Okay, but after that you can't tease me about it,"

"Alright,"

"After we broke up, the first time I kissed someone else, we were at a gas station, and when he bought me some gummy bears as I thanked him I said 'thank you, Oscar'"

He tried to bite down his laughter.

"He absolutely flipped, and dumped me that night in front of my parents who were waiting by the window,"

"Wow," he gulped clenching his jaw, "That's- That's rough," he cleared his throat.

You nodded slowly, "Humbling experience for sure," you sighed resting your head on him, "So, let me guess, you escaped the people who wanted to take pictures with you," you pointed at the door.

"Don't tell me about it,"

"I thought all you wanted was to be The Great Oscar Piratri," you exaggerated with your hands.

"Not great at all to be harassed all the time,"

"Yeah, sounds awful to have so many fans and money..."

"That part's fun," he admitted, "But everything else is just a bit of a nightmare,"

"I'm sorry, but you know what," you tried to lighten the mood, "What I'm absolutely most sorry about is that we..." you stood up taking his hand, "Never ended up living right... there!" you pointed at the most beautiful building of the view.

"Well for starters, you never married me,"

"I did! Well not legally but we had vows and everything,"

"And my cousin as our officiant, what a mess that was,"

"And all for a wedding night, that we never had,"

"I still can't believe we faked a wedding just so we could have sex,"

"To be fair, back then we were good children who followed God's rules," you whipped your index finger dramatically as you turned to see him.

"Your parents were awful,"

"About us yes, but you have to admit they weren't too bad about everything else,"

"No, they just made you break up with me after three years, nothing big really," he pouted sarcastically.

"I'm sorry, really, I never wanted that to happen, I was just- Young and brainwashed," you cupped his face, "And also, the next three years we spent hating each other didn't help your image so much," you tilted your head.

"Yeah, sorry for egging your house those Halloweens,"

"Don't apologize, me kidnapping your dog for a week was way out of line,"

"Archie is still alive, you know?"

"Really? That's great!"

"He's a bit old, but staying strong,"

"He better be, he tackled me down a couple of times when I visited you,"

"I still have those videos," he said proudly.

"No, you don't,"

"Yes, my mom still has my old phones,"

"Why though?" you complained.

"It's never been easy for her to let go of stuff,"

"Yeah, I remember she always invited me over to yours while you weren't around, but I just couldn't do it, I felt way too guilty,"

"I have to ask," he let out, "If it weren't for your parents, how long do you think we would've lasted?"

"I'm not sure, but I can tell you that back then I wanted you- I- I wanted this," you signaled between the two of you, "Forever," you grinned, nostalgia and regret adorning your entire semblance.

"I can rest peacefully now," he caressed your forearms.

"Why?"

"I had a piggy bank for our future engagement ring,"

You opened your mouth slightly, "I had a savings account for that Rolex you always wanted,"

"Guess what?"

"What?"

He showed you his wrist, "I got it on my own,"

"Show-off," you spat.

"It's better than stealing," he looked down at the garment adorning you, long forgotten under this conversation.

"I wasn't stealing, I was just- trying it on," you defended.

"It looks good,"

"I know,"

"Now who's the show-off?"

"At least you get to keep it,"

"Hurts doesn't it,"

"Fuck off, you can win all the races you want, but I bet you still can't beat me at wrestling," you got close to his face before walking slowly to the other side of the room.

"Is that a dare?"

"I don't know, if you're brave enough it is, if you're a coward then it isn't," you crossed your arms.

"I have muscles now, it wouldn't be fair," he added with cockiness.

"Don't patronize me, I do ballet, my legs are far stronger than your arms,"

"Bet," he stepped closer.

"Yeah, bet!" you clapped your hands before giggling as you began this ridiculous dance.

If you both hadn't been laughing the entire time you probably would've seriously hurt yourselves given how careless you were being, throwing each other on the bed and the floor over and over again. After a couple of minutes, the laughter stopped leaving you as panting messes still struggling for dominance, it wasn't until he laid on top of you that you considered giving up.

"I told you, I had muscles," he paused in between words.

"And I-" you gathered yourself as quickly as you could straddle his legs and with much adrenaline and heat flip him over, pushing his hands down to completely immobilize him, "I told you I did ballet asshole," You grinned devilishly in victory, "Ready to surrender?"

"Yeah, fine, I'm done," he truly wasn't, yet the sight of you in that position alone told him to stand down.

"All that driver training for what? Still, lose to your ex-girlfriend?" you let go of his hands only.

He chuckled under his breath, struggling to stand on his elbows, "Well, when she's the one that goes away, you have to let her win, right?" he confessed.

You licked your lips without knowing how to respond, however, being fully aware that something about you not removing yourself from his body told you that this was no longer part of a friendly conversation, perhaps it never really was.

—The one that got away— he had just described everything that needed to be said in one simple phrase.

"Sorry," he began to realize his words getting  his back to straighten up, "I didn't mean to make it awkward,"

"You didn't," you were incredibly doe-eyed as you met his gaze, "Just shut up before you do," you pulled him by the collar of his shirt kissing him. He knew how to respond, as he immediately hugged your waist with one hand, resting the other one on your thigh right before the hem of the dress.

"Carry me to the bed Oscar," you gasped in between his mouth, to which he obeyed, carefully lying your bodies to fir perfectly, like you always knew they did. Your tounge slipped in between to which he groaned in your mouth, fingers begining to inch closer to where all his teenage wet dreams met.

"Do it, please," you whispered, "Don't wait longer than you already have, just do it,"

As much as a part of him wanted to treasure this moment as much as he could, his more carnal side acted on behalf of your encouragement, circling your clit with his thumb as you moaned into him. You slightly thanked you were fucking him until now, a way more experienced and knowledgable version of the man you'd thought to be the love of your life.

He traveled to the back of your ear right, knowing more than guessing your sweet spot was still there, confirming it by how you lightly arched your back, pulling on his hair as he left a mark you were probably gonna regret so much later, pulling back to allow him access to your neck and jawline.

"You're so fucking wet,"

"Proud of yourself for that?"

"A lot,"

You could feel him grinning against your collarbone, slowly feeling the purple stamps, trailing to the top of your breasts that the dress ever so slightly allowed out, he contemplated his options for a moment, admiring your body in such a piece.

"Rip it off if you want," you mumbled.

"As tempting as it sounds, I want you to wear it for next time, then I'll rip it off, deal?"

—Next time— what twisted grave had you dove yourself into?

"Deal," you nodded.

"Now be a doll, and help yourself out of it,"

"Jesus Oscar, did you always have that under your sleeve?" you unzipped the sides.

"I saved it just for you," he pressed his thumb harder making you moan louder.

You slipped it over your head, tossing it away, "Keep saying stuff like that and maybe I'll marry you for real, deal?"

"Deal," he said against one of the nipples before beginning to suck on it.

"Multitasking motherfucker," you groaned feeling his middle finger pumping slowly into you, he moves his hands around for a living, of course, he was good at fingering, way too fucking good.

All kinds of sounds bounced off the walls and into your ears, sounds you only ever imagined on those lonely nights after the breakup, and so did he. More of your moand as he added his index finger drowned in the vibrations of the music for the outside to never find out how awfully loud you being for him, just for him; especially if his thumb switched to eight circles as he focused on your other tit.

"I'm close- I'm so close Oscar," you begged, "Go faster," you gulped, "Please,"

The most pornographic sound escaped his lips, "Beg again, beg for me," you obeyed without a second thought as he also did as told, keeping his pace as you reached your orgasm, whether you screamed or just raised your voice, no one will ever know, the music from outside and the cars rushing by braiding it in. By the time you realized, his belt clinked on the carpet floor, feeling as if in one motion everything in between you two was now discarded.

"I'm on the pill by the way," you whispered.

"Wasn't planning on having children until that wedding of ours, deal?" his tip rubbed against.

"Deal," you answered without ever crossing your mind how actually terrifying the idea of being pregnant was, just to have him inside you you would've signed a prenup right then and there.

He joined your lips again as he slipped inside, filling you up to the brim, with an unnecessary elevated ego that this whole situation resulted in, he thrusts into you mercilessly, you couldn't complain, his hands supporting his body on your hair, tangling all around the cover and his skin. Now being completely shameless it seemed as if you were competing to see who could make the most noise. You both came undone almost at the same time, Oscar having to battle with himself to get hard again as you followed his lead.

"I wasn't joking about next time," he mindlessly whispered in the crook of your neck.

"Neither was I, my place next time, deal?"

"Deal"

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri f1 #oscar piastri angst

[thebearer]

the milestones menu: nonna berzatto's homemade pasta

prompt: yours and carmen's first "i love you".

contains: fluff, general fluff. some mentions to dead relatives, carmen's self doubt, but very minimal bc it's very fluffy :)

2 cups of flour- Semolina. 

4 Large Eggs 

Pinch of Salt

Put flour into a mound. Make a center, and add the eggs to the middle. Whisk slowly with a fork, gradually working it in little at a time until nice and thick. Knead the mixture for about ten minutes. Let it rest in the fridge for thirty minutes. Put it in a ball, and roll it out very thin. 

“Can’t believe you never had homemade pasta.” Carmen shook his head, blue eyes peeking out from under the mess of curls. 

“Nope.” You shook your head, grinning over the crystal wine glass, sipping your riesling slowly. “Strictly a boxed pasta girl.” 

“Fuckin’ criminal.” Carmen grinned, a playful, lopsided smirk that had you blushing.

The counter was covered in flour, stopping just where you rested, propped up on the granite while Carmen worked. Your eyes trained on his hands, hands that stirred the eggs into the flour, kneaded the dough until your thighs were clenching. 

“My Nonna is rollin’ in her grave right now, you know that?” Carmen pulled you from your gaze, rolling out the dough. 

“Noooo, don't say that.” You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re making me feel bad, Carmen. I swear I thought Olive Garden made fresh pasta.” 

Carmen laughed, a little shy but louder now- more himself. He’d blossomed with you lately, unveiling new parts of himself every single day. “‘M just kiddin’, baby.” Carmen hummed, eyes cutting to you a little skeptical. “Sorry, I-I didn’t mean to sound like an asshole. That sounded douchey, right?” 

You smiled, setting your glass behind you. “No, I was just messin’ with you, bear.” The nickname- his nickname. Hearing it more and more roll from your tongue, each time his heart skipped harder than the last. 

“Is this her recipe?” You asked, picking up the faded recipe card, looped cursive on the aged paper. “Your Nonna’s?” 

“Yeah,” Carmen nodded. “I, uh, so when I left to go to culinary school, right? She was sick, and… and I think she, like, knew that when I went to New York that would be the last time she saw me.” Carmen’s face dropped, slow and sad, it made your own heart sink. 

“So she-she gave me all these recipe books and-and cards that were hers. We used to cook together a lot. She taught me how to cook, y’know? My mom and dad were always at the restaurant and didn’t want to cook when they got home. They didn’t want me in the restaurant either so I spent a lot of time with her.” Carmen muttered. You could see the memories playing behind his eyes. 

You liked to picture that version of Carmen, a little boy with wild curls, helping his Nonna cook. Happy memories. 

“That’s sweet.” You smiled, leaning against the cabinets. “She did a really good job. You know she’s so insanely proud of you.” 

Carmen snorted, shaking his head lightly. “Yes, she is. Everyone’s proud of you, Carmen… I’m proud of you.” You hesitate, eyes scanning his features. It was true, of course, but handling Carmen sometimes was like handling a frightened animal. You were never sure what would make him scatter away in fear. 

Carmen swallowed thickly, cheeks flushed red, lips in a tight line. “T-Thanks.” Carmen muttered, wiping his hands on his apron, tossing the flour back into his clammy hands. 

“She, uh, she woulda loved you, y’know.” Carmen’s eyes met yours, intense and piercing. “I wish you coulda met her.” 

“Yeah, me too.” You nod. “I would’ve loved to hear all the baby Carmen cooking stories. I bet she had some good ones.” You smiled, bright and wide- perfect. It made Carmen’s brain numb. 

“Yeah, she would.” Carmen nodded, hands stilling, still buried in the dough. 

He felt it in his bones, his heart, consuming his thoughts. The overwhelming need he’d felt for weeks, since the first time you kissed him really, that he’d been fighting- too scared to say. What he felt every time he looked at you, when he thought about you. 

“Um, I-I wanna say something, and-and I don’t know if I should even fuckin’ say this or-or if it’s… fuck, if you-you feel the same or I just, I don’t wanna fuck this up because this is like the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and-and I’m workin’ on not ruinin’ good shit in my life and bein’ ok with it like-like my therapist says ya know, but-” Carmen rambled, words spilling out in fast, overwhelming bouts that took you by surprise. 

Carmen flustered, reaching a dough covered hand to his face, the sticky batter catching on his brows and hair. He flushed deeply, hands shaking in embarrassment, cursing under his breath. “F-Fuck, I-I’m sorry. I-I, nevermind, it’s not… I don’t know why-why I would-” His hands trembled, body shaking with anger and embarrassment. Way to fuckin’ go, Berzatto, you fuckin’ ruin it. That’s all you ever do, Carmen thought bitterly, wiping his hands off on the cloth. 

“Carm,” You said softly, your voice a beacon in the raging sea of his mind, pulling him out of his own harsh thoughts. 

Carmen turned, a fury flush of pure embarrassment that burnt all down his cheeks to his chest. Eyes soft and wary, hesitant like he was doomed, destined for the worse. 

You slide off the counter easily, grabbing the spare towel, bringing it to his eyebrows, wiping the dough off gently. The softness of your touch soothed Carmen, lulling his hammering heart- he didn’t see your own shaking hands, filled with your own adrenaline nerves. 

You stood in front of him, eyes on the other, careful and watching- unsure. “I-I love you, too.” Your breath hitched, squeezing the words out in a nervous tumble. Carmen didn’t move, body going rigid, heart stopping entirely. The ringing was back in his ears, clouding his brain so loudly he was sure he heard you wrong. 

“I’ve wanted to say it for a while, too, but didn’t…” You shook your head, heat in your own cheeks, eyes casting down to his dough covered hand. “I didn’t know if-if you felt that or if- I don’t know, I didn’t want to seem crazy or obsessive if it was too soon, and-and scare you.” 

“No,” Carmen croaked, tongue thick in his own mouth. “No, I-I mean- fuck,” Carmen shook his head, looking to the wall. He needed a second, words jumbled in his mouth, heart racing, so high off the adrenaline he felt like he could combust at any moment. 

“I-I was gonna say that too.” Carmen nodded, the quirk in your lips making his heart lurch. “That I love you. I was- yeah, I love you. I-I have for a while.” 

“Really?” You whispered, voice tiny and excited, like it was a secret just for the two of you. Maybe it was. 

“Yeah, fuck yeah.” Carmen let out a breathy, shaky laugh. “I love you, and-and I just love you so much it makes my brain hurt sometimes.” 

“Me too.” You grin, a hand pressing to his cheek. “I love you.” The phrase you’d repressed for so long, deprived yourself of saying now spilled out of you like a mantra- like that was all you could say now. 

Carmen grinned, brain bubbly and light. He let you pull him into a kiss, head tilting down, lips molding over yours so they fit perfectly. 

Later over plates of Bologonese, you grinned across the table from Carmen. “If I didn’t tell you I loved you before, I definitely would now.” You moaned, pointing at the plate. “I really was missing out.” 

Carmen beamed under your praise, gooey and love drunk off your words- off you. He knew Viola Berzatto, wherever she was, was boasting with pride. 

And he knew his Nonna would have loved you too. 

#thebearer #carmen berzatto #thebearerblurbs #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmy berzatto fluff #the milestones menu #carmen berzatto ​x fem!reader #carmen berzatto x female!reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto blurb #the bear fx #the bear hulu #the bear fic #the bear fanfiction #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmy the bear

[lanitalay]

At sea 

Rhysand x reader

a/n: Hi my loves!!!! I wrote this to break the ice after winter break. It will likely have one or two more parts. Wanted to write some Rhysand fluff after destroying his character in Before I say goodnight lol.

word count: 1k

warnings: none

Summary: reader returns home after months at sea.

Part 2

Salt coated the railings you clung to while walking down the stairs to the main deck. The summer sun had dried up the water that had crashed against the ship all night long. Now small crystals blanket every surface on board. You make it down the wonky steps, map rolled and tucked under your arm. It had been a rough passage last night, the shaking had kept most of the crew on board hugging buckets, unable to control the bile. It was the most dangerous part of the voyage, the captain had to watch out for jagged rocks that were mostly covered by water or mist, towering waves and fog overhead that prevented the guiding stars to be visible. 

It would be a matter of days now. If you squinted you could swear the shoreline of Velaris was on the horizon. This time it had been an entire season. The trek had started the day after the last of the snow melted and you would be back just shy of the summer solstice. You had never been gone this long from your home. The salt air was starting to stink, you yearned for green fields and pine scented breezes. 

You had collected more samples than ever before. The botany in the foreign lands you visited was truly magnificent and different to what you were accustomed to in the Night Court. In your private quarter you had managed to fit around one thousand dried samples of leaves, roots, flowers and a few insects along with some living plants, placed carefully near the port hole and a plethora of seeds. Your favorite treasure was an exceptional plant that you had meticulously looked after because the bright violet color of the flowers reminded you of a pair of matching eyes back home. Rhysand. You tried not to think of him. You really really did. But in the flowers you saw his eyes. In the stars you saw his smile. In dark waters you saw his fury. In the sea shanties you heard his drunken laugh. A sigh escapes your frowning mouth. 

He might have married or mated by the time you return. Not that anything romantic existed outside of your wildest dreams. But he was your friend. You had known him since the head researcher of the priestesses had sent for a field researcher, since she did not feel ready to be outside of the sacred library walls. You had been recruited because your father was a renowned explorer and you had grown up by his side. Every shore in Prythian and the Continent was familiar to your family. Every shore unknown called your name. 

Rhysand was the one who brought you to the library the first time. He had wanted to be present and even gave you a tour himself of the massive sanctuary. Since then, each time you return he flies you to the library and you tell him an abridged version of what you saw on your travels. Sometimes you think that he holds you a little tighter than the last time he saw you and you stop yourself before even thinking that there is a glint in his eyes that indicates something more than polite interest. 

The days pass slowly. Eventually, the familiar cliff sides and hilly landscape come into view. Relief floods your chest. You would be staying a while this time. Cataloging all of the new materials would take at least until the end of summer. Flapping sounds from above and you look up expecting to see the mast ripped but instead a gliding shadow figure high above. An inevitable smile forms on your face. 

It feels like docking the boat took forever. But once all the ropes are tied and the masts lowered, the bridge gets lowered and you all but leap to the wooden platform and to the young High Lord that’s waiting for you. Sprinting you pounce on him, wrapping your arms around his neck and relishing the feeling of being on solid ground. “Welcome home, explorer” his smooth voice soothes your racing heart. Seconds pass before you let go and look at him. He’s beaming, his hair has gotten longer since you’d gone,  his face is clean shaven and he smells of home. You open your mouth to speak but his smile- his smile is making it impossible for you to concentrate on anything other than his mouth. So you stall. Your hands ruffle his hair in the way you knew would annoy him and he laughs. 

“I’m so glad to be back” you finally say. 

Flying to the House of Wind was routine at this point in your career. You would land and immediately go debrief with your head researcher. But today Rhys had asked you if you were hungry. The grumble in your stomach told him you were. So now you were eating a lovely lunch prepared by the house. It felt decadent to eat anything other than fish and potatoes. You moan as you bite and the High Lord in front of you chuckles. 

“What else did you find?” 

“Besides the plants there were incredible creatures there. Some had fur and some had scales. I drew them in my books” you point towards the bag you had brought with you most precious items. He reaches for it and begins to flip through the pages of your findings. 

“This is fascinating” he breathes. 

“What about you? Is there anything new in the Court?” You notice his jaw clench for a fraction of a second.  “Is something wrong?” 

He shakes his head and closes the book “there are whispers of war”. Your blood drains from your face. “What do you mean?” 

His face is now the face of a High Lord, relaying important information to a court member “Hybern has been making some advances, Prythian is too fragmented to stand a chance”. The war that had put the wall between the human realm and the seven courts had ended not one hundred years ago. Villages were still recovering. The Courts were still shifting in new power dynamics. 

“What can I do?” You were no warrior. The amount of times you’d trained with the Inner Circle you could count on one hand and it had always been to appease Cassian. Rhys looks away “nothing, we are trying our best to unify and organize our armies”. Something akin to a thorn nestles itself in your heart “and how are you going to do that?” 

He swallows and looks straight through your eyes “I’m marrying the Princess of Autumn”. 

#acosf #acowar #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fanfiction #acotar #acofas #acomaf #rhysand #lucien vanserra #rhys acotar #rhysand x reader #rhysand x y/n #fluff #light angst #angst #angst with a happy ending

[brewed-pangolin]

Tailgate Movie Night

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x Fem Reader

Synopsis: You and Soap take advantage of a warm summer's night to hit the drive-in. Yet halfway through the film, your attention gets pulled to a more tranquil scene before you.

Warnings: None. Fluffs galore.

You couldn’t have asked for a better night if you begged for it. The warm summer air cooled with a gentle breeze that came in the moment the sun descended below the distant horizon. A crystal clear night. The dark, black expanse of the sky blanketed in countless stars, so many you were unable to discern the distinct formation of your favorite constellations within them.

And popcorn. So. much. Popcorn.

As you made your way through the vast jungle of parked cars, you let your mind wander and take in the sights and sounds around you.

The endless parade of movie goers lining up at the concession stand.

A series of high-pitched screams of children scurrying around the grass laden parking lot.

And the delicious aroma of salted butter filling your sinuses as you made your way back to your parking spot. Needing both hands to cradle the massive paper bag of popcorn your lover always insisted on during movie nights.

And you obliged, as always. Movie theater popcorn was, after all, his guilty pleasure. And you were certainly not going to deny Soap MacTavish of his most prized culinary obsession.

As you continued to meander through the last line of parked cars, your eyes finally caught sight of Soap’s other most prized obsession; his 4Runner.

Your lips involuntarily curled into a smile as you watched him make the last-minute touches to the back of the compartment. Transforming a typical cargo hold into a full-blown comforting sanctuary.

Built in air mattress. Pillows set up against the backseat and sides of the trunk. And a plethora of blankest set out at your disposal. In other words, perfect.

“Lookin’ good, Johnny,” you called out with a grin permanently etched onto your lips.

“Aye. Jus’ need one more thing,” Soap replied, reaching over the backseat to grab the cooler and a six pack of Irn Bru.

“You splurgin’ tonight. Aren’t ya, love?”

“I earned it, lass. Got the botched crest to prove it,” he answered with a head tilt and a smirk.

The chunk of hair missing from his distinctive mohawk more visible in the dim light and the peach fuzz of new hair growth just beginning to cover the scar left by the grazed bullet.

“It’s an interesting look, Soap. Got a bit of a, I don’t know, Stegosaurus vibe to it.”

“Shut it, lass.”

“Why don’t you just shave it?”

Soap fell silent. Immediately shooting you a playfully repulsed glare and grabbing at the immense bag of popcorn from your hands.

“Away n’ biel yer heid.”

“Yeah. Fuck you too, babe.” You smiled brightly back at him, climbing into the back to take your place snuggled up next to him.

Not even thirty minutes into the movie, you reached over into the giant bag of popcorn nestled between you and found it to be nearly completely empty. Cupping a few straggling upopped kernels into your hand, you glanced over and took in the blissful sight before you.

Soap MacTavish. Your Johnny. Fast asleep against the pillow next to you.

In normal circumstances, you would jab into his side and rile him up to keep him awake. But now, with how peaceful he looked, you wouldn’t dare stir him from his whimsical slumber.

Instead, you turned your attention from the film on the oversized outdoor screen to the tranquil scene of calmness beside you. Lightly tracing your fingers along the top of his scalp as you laid on your side, ever so slowly running your fingers through the remnants of his mohawk as he breathed steadily within the grip of deep sleep.

Soap always had trouble sleeping at night. Whether it be from the nightmarish memories of his previous deployments, or new found fears he had only just begun to conjure up within his mind, sleep always seemed to perpetually dance around taunt him, no matter how hard he tried to give in.

But here, in the back of his 4Runner and amongst a crowd of movie goers and intricate white noise, he could find peace. And you’d be damned if you did anything to take that away from him.

You felt a slight tinge of embarrassment at how easily you fell in love with watching him sleep. And guilty, a sense that somehow you were almost stealing these precious moments of rest from him. Taking advantage of his unconscious vulnerability for your own selfish need to witness and cache these serene moments for yourself.

And you did.

As the dim light of the drive-in danced across his dreamlike expression, you shifted all focus and attention from the film to bask in the tranquility that was him.

Laying your head on his chest to lose yourself in the rhythmic cadence of his heart. A gentle smile curling into your lips as you felt the groggy movement of his arm behind you, pulling you in closer with a sleepy groan.

The world slowly began to melt away as you both enjoyed the closeness of one another. Low, rumbling vibrations of the films soundtrack rolling through the hull of the vehicle, eliciting a muffled giggle as your mind recalled a more robust vibration Soap preferred in the back of his 4Runner.

"What's s'funny, hen?" Soap managed through a drowsy whisper. Tilting his chin down to tenderly kiss the top of your forehead.

"Nothin'. Just enjoying the moment, love."

"Mhmm. Yer a terrible liar, lass."

Your smile widened, looking up to meet the cerulean fire of his eyes draped behind heavy lids. His signature mischievous grin telling all you needed to know about his full intentions for the night.

And you were more than happy to put on a show for him. Appreciating his decision to park in the back as you both created your own soundtrack for the night.

4Runner Wingman Masterlist

@deadbranch @sofasoap @d3athtr4psworld @punishmepunisher @jynxmirage @homicidal-slvt @glitterypirateduck @mykneeshurt @astraluminaaa @shotmrmiller @writeforfandoms @obligatoryghoststare @haurasha @havoc973 @macravishedbymactavish @ang3lc @luismickydees

#super soap sunday #soap squad #soap squad 🧼 #4Runner Wingman #tailgate movie night #dont come knocking if the 4Runner be rockin #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #john mactavish #soap x you #soap x reader #soap fluff #soap x f reader #soap cod #call of duty #cod #cod fanfic #cod series

[lunarbuck]

DBF!Ari Levinson + beach day

alice you're gonna kill me lmao

pairing: DBF!Ari x f!reader (any race)

wc: 1.5k

beta'd by @late-to-the-party-81 <3 <3 <3

sneak peek: “You see something you like, princess?” You nod, practically in a trance. Ari steps toward you, tilting his head down to whisper into your ear. “Then take it.”

warnings: age gap, fluffly flirting, dbf, edging/orgasm delay/denial, oral (m receiving), smut (p in v), pet names [daddy, princess, baby]

my masterlist | 1.5k sleepover

The sand is warm beneath your toes as you settle onto your towel, letting the sun soak into your skin. It’s early enough in the season that the beach isn’t incredibly busy, so you just had to take advantage. 

As you close your eyes and let the summer heat warm you, you feel fingers brushing against your arm. Calloused but gentle, the fingers draw up your arm, tickling your neck, and find their way to cup your jaw.

“Princess,” Ari practically groans, shifting to block the sun from your face. “You’re killing me.” You grin, keeping your eyes closed. 

“And what’re you gonna do about it?” You taunt, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth in the way you know drives Ari crazy. “ Daddy .” You draw the word out and peek an eye open just in time to see Ari’s pupils blow wide. 

Ari shifts closer, sidling himself right next to you. Your mouth waters as his broad chest brushes against your shoulder, as his hand slides from your face and down your neck. His fingers trace over the edge of your swimsuit. You’d chosen it specifically to tease him, knowing it’s too small to fully cover your breasts.

You hum lightly in pleasure as Ari runs his strong hands over your body, and for a moment, you worry about the possibility of someone seeing you. The beach isn’t too busy today, but the possibility of someone walking past and seeing the way Ari is touching you, the way you’re reacting to his touch, makes you shiver.  

“You think you can tease me and not have any consequences for that?” Ari asks, dipping his head to kiss the sensitive spot on your neck. 

You shrug, keeping up your air of indifference. “You’re gonna pay for that, princess. But not right now. Right now, I want to enjoy the weather with my gorgeous girl” Suddenly, Ari’s arms sweep under you, and he swiftly picks you up. You giggle into Ari’s chest, holding onto him as he carries you toward the water. 

Ari walks into the surf until the crystal blue waters come up to his waist. He settles into it, letting you adjust to the temperature and as you do, you wrap your arms around his neck, letting your fingers play with the ends of his hair.

“I’m glad you got the day off,” you tell him as he shifts your position, wrapping your legs around his hips.

“Me too, princess. Your dad might be getting a little suspicious, though.” You sigh at the mention of your father. Ari and your dad have worked together for years now. You hadn’t meant to fall for your dad’s friend, but you don’t regret it one bit. One day, you’ll tell your dad, but you don’t want to think about it right now.

“We’ll tell him soon,” you say, pressing a kiss to Ari’s firm chest. “But let’s just be here. Let’s just enjoy today.” Ari gazes down with you, blue eyes shining like the water, and smiles.

You and Ari swim around, talking and laughing, carefree in a way the two of you often aren’t able to experience. Once your fingers get pruney and the sun starts to set, Ari picks you up and carries you back onto the beach. 

After gathering your things, you and Ari wander back to the hotel. He’d surprised you by booking it for the weekend and you were so grateful because it means no sneaking around, no hiding; just an entire weekend of you and Ari.

When you’re back in the hotel room, you bask in the chill of the air conditioning before wandering into the bathroom and turning on the shower. You slip out of your bathing suit, leaving it on the counter, and step under the spray.

You start your routine using your favorite shampoo to rinse the salt from your hair. As you engross yourself in the routine, you hear the bathroom door click open. Ari wanders in through the steam, leaning against the counter. You watch as he picks up your bikini bottoms and twirls them around his finger. 

“This bikini is gonna be the death of me, princess,” he says, voice low and gravelly. “You looked so sexy in it.” You smile to yourself as you rinse the shampoo from your hair. Ari slides the shower door open and steps under the water with you.

“Ari,” you whisper, drinking in the sight of his gorgeous body. Your eyes drift down his muscular chest, his abs, his adonis belt. When your eyes land on his hard cock, you go weak in the knees.

“You see something you like, princess?” You nod, practically in a trance. Ari steps toward you, tilting his head down to whisper into your ear. “Then take it.” You sink down to your knees, letting your eyes flick up to Ari’s face. He grins and cups your face with his big hands as you lick a drop of precum from his tip. He tastes salty and sweet, and you bite back a moan.

Before Ari, you’d never really enjoyed giving head, but Ari changes everything. How reactive he is, how much pleasure he gives you as you pleasure him. It’s amazing. You take him into your mouth, sucking him as deeply as you can, and Ari’s hands shift to your head. He doesn’t push, just guides you as your mouth moves over his dick.

“So good, baby,” he tells you through gritted teeth. “So fucking good.” You glow under his praise and squeeze your thighs together. Pleasure shoots through you and builds in your belly. You lose yourself as you take Ari deeper and deeper, loving his taste on your tongue. 

Ari suddenly pulls away, and you watch him for his next move. He helps you stand and pins you to the cool tiles. He lets his eyes travel over your body, and you feel heat settle in your belly.

“See something you like?” You ask, tossing his words back at him.

“I do,” he replies, running his hands up your torso to your breasts. He runs his fingers over your nipples, toying with them. “And I’m gonna take it.” 

Ari dives in and kisses you, stealing your breath away. Your knees wobble beneath you, and he picks you up, wrapping your legs around him. Your pussy grinds against his cock, and you moan into his mouth. You wiggle your hips, aching for him to fuck you, to drive himself deep inside of you.

“Please, Ari, please,” you whisper, building your pleasure higher and higher as you grind against him. 

“Tell me what you want, princess,” he says, sucking a mark into your neck. 

“Ari, I want you to fuck me, please,” you beg, picking up the pace of your hips. Your orgasm builds and builds. “I need it so bad, Ari.”

“Yeah?” he asks, gently biting your shoulder. “You want me to fuck you?” You nod, already a whimpering mess in his arms.

Ari snakes a hand between you and finds your clit with his fingers. He rubs circles in the way he knows you love, and it nearly sends you over the edge. The moment you’re about to come apart, he stops. He holds your hips still, and you groan as the orgasm fades.

“Ari,” you whine, trying to writhe against him, but he holds you still.

“Hm, princess, you shouldn’t have talked back to me earlier,” he says, running his thumb back over your clit. You jolt, sensitivity setting in. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Ari,” you tell him, hoping he’ll take mercy on you.

“Actions have consequences, baby.” He grinds his hips against yours, resuming his ministrations on your clit.

Ari works you up to orgasm after orgasm before ripping each of them away, not letting you come, over and over again. He shuts off the water and carries you to the bed, not caring that both of you are still dripping wet. You shake in his arms, a puddle in his hands. When he’s finally decided that you’ve had enough, you have tears pricking your eyes.

“You did so good for me, princess,” he whispers, kissing you gently. “So good.” Ari shifts your hips and lines his cock up.

“Please, Ari, please, I need you so bad.” Ari kisses you and finally presses inside of your aching pussy, making you see stars. He stretches you so much it almost hurts, but he soothes the pain with his lips on your cheek. 

His pace is gentle but deep, hitting the spot inside you that makes your body shake. He worships your body, wringing pleasure from you. He whispers words of praise to you, making your body sing.

“You’re so fucking perfect, baby,” he tells you as an orgasm builds deep inside you. “My perfect princess.” 

When you come, your whole body tightens, and your vision blacks out. Ari fucks you through it, kissing you senseless. With a few more flexes of his hips, he follows you over the edge and sinks to the bed beside you. As you come down from the high, Ari pulls you into his side, holding you close and pressing kisses to your temple.

In moments like this, your love of Ari seems to flow from you. In every touch, in every whispered word.

“I love you, princess,” he whispers into your hair.

“I love you too, Ari.”

please message me to be added to a taglist! must be 18+

general tags: @peaches1958 @pono-pura-vida @emi11ie @paulasocean @silverfire475 @lovingchoices14 @nekoannie-chan @late-to-the-party-81 @chibijusstuff @midnightramyeoncravings @wickidlady @buckyb-stan

#i got mail #jane’s writing #jane’s 1.5k sleepover #ari request #ari levinson request #ari levinson fic request #Ari Levinson au #Ari Levinson fanfic #Ari Levinson fluff #Ari Levinson x reader #Ari x reader #Ari Levinson fic #Red Sea Diving Resort fic #Ari Levinson fanfiction #Ari Levinson #Ari Red Sea Diving Resort #Ari Levinson x you #fem!reader #Red Sea Diving Resort fanfiction #chris evans character #dbf!ari #dbf!ari levinson x reader #dbf!ari fic #dbf!ari levinson #flordeamatista #alice 💐

[writingmysanity]

Warmth

Pairing: Sanji x reader

Word count: 1057

TW: drowning (nightmare) hurt/comfort

A/N: this is my first time writing for Sanji, I hope you liked it. it has stuck with me the last few days begging to be written.

Sighing softly, you snuggle deeper into your blankets as thunder roars overhead. It slams around you like the boom of a cannon, shaking the walls of your home. The howl of the wind whistles through the body of the forest around you, whipping the branches roughly enough to earn the distant disapproving whine of the trees. 

Rough skies are not an uncommon thing when your home is surrounded by the open seas, crystal waters bathed in shadow as it sloshes against the white sands. 

The noise hardly is noticed, by you, as the warmth from the fireplace flickers on – eating at the new logs you pressed into its mouth as you settle into bed. The body resting beside you, on the other hand, can't seem to get comfortable. When you both had settled beneath the mountain of blankets, the storm had been little more than a drizzle. The patter of the rain was soothing as his arms rested around you, curling himself around your form happily. Now, he can't help the way his body naturally pulls away, the flickering of images drowning the happiness he had felt not long ago.

Gasping for breath, Sanji groans as he is slammed against the body of the boulder. Allowing the crashing waves to lift him enough to beach himself on its surface, he wretches at the salt pasted thick to his tongue. Blackened clouds flicker above, electricity dancing across the skies as thunder booms around him, seeming to shudder through the air. 

Panting, he pushes himself up, eyes scanning the obsidian waves, eyes wide. 

You had been with him. 

Where are you?

Hoarsely, he calls your name, the sound choked by the burn of salt water in his throat. The wind slaps at his skin, whipping away his calls as he finds himself teetering on the edge of the rock, waves swinging up to obstruct his view. 

Your name is the only word able to leave his lips, but no matter how loud he cries his calls are swallowed by the sea. 

 After what could only be described as an eternity, he can hear you. Your calls echoing over the dance of the waves, your sobs begging him to save you. 

With much effort, he ignores the burn of his limbs, as he pushes himself fully to his feet. Calling out to you again, his eyes remain on the turbulent waters. Instead of his own voice echoing back to him, yours slams back to him, luring him closer to the edge of the boulder. His very own sirens call. It isn't long before he spots your hand, lifted above the waves, reaching for him. 

Without thought, he dives in after you, working against the pull of the tides. 

Just as he reaches you, your hand disappears, dragged fully beneath the surface. No matter how hard he tries to push past the surface to go after you, he finds it impossible. Some barrier continues to force him back above the waves. He thrashes against the water, reaching for you but is forced to watch your wide eyes – glazed, unmoving and solely focused on him – disappear into the shadows of the waters below. 

Lurching straight up, he flails through the layers of blankets, a cry of your name dying on his lips as he searches for you. Eyes wide, he chokes back a sob, quickly covering his mouth to quiet his noises when he finds you curled peacefully on your side. In an attempt to keep from disturbing you, he turns away, elbows resting on his knees as he works to control his breathing. 

In his panic, he doesn't notice the way your hand reaches out for him, or the way your face scrunches when all you find are warmed sheets. Slowly, you pry your eyes open to search for him. 

For a moment, you just watch him, blinking slowly as his shoulders shake. 

It isn't until he hiccups back a sob that you call his name. 

When he doesn't react, you crawl forward, the blankets falling from your shoulders as you draw closer to him. Fighting the shiver that wracks through you when the wind presses through the old windows, you bring yourself to his side. You slowly bring your hand up to touch his arm,  keeping your touch light in an attempt to not startle him. But still he jerks, jumping back away from you. He quickly wipes at his face, trying to hide the evidence of his moment of weakness. 

You watch him, allowing him to pull himself back to the present, back to you. He runs his hands through his hair to hide the way they tremble, taking a deep breath in an attempt to even his breathing as he stares at you. Your eyes fall to his, watching the turbulent waters slosh in them as he tries to find the words to say, to make this go away. When he is only able to breathe your name, the sound shaky and scared, you open your arms for him. 

“What ar-” you cut him off with a sleepy smile, eyes soft with understanding.

“Come. Warmth.” 

You're giving him an out, he realizes. 

You don't move, your arms staying open for him as you watch the various emotions cross his face – fear, confusion and heartache. He hesitates as he moves towards you, allowing you to wrap your arms around his shoulders and tug him back into the bed. Once there, you wiggle both bodies under the covers, his head resting lightly on your chest as his arms wrap around your middle. In silence, you stroke up and down his back, allowing him to listen to the sound of your heart.

You don't ask and you know he won't tell. You don't mention the chill of his tears as they dampen your shirt, you just squeeze him close letting out a sad sigh. 

“You’re safe,” you try. He just shakes his head, arms tightening around you. You can't help the sad smile that tugs at your lips when you lean down to press them to the crown of his head. 

“I am safe,” you state quietly, with more confidence this time. He heaves a shaky sigh, burying his face in your chest, the gentle rhythm of your breath helping soothe him. “Okay?” he nods, his voice thick with emotion. 

“‘Kay.”

Don't really have a tag list for One Piece -- so this is just a no pressure list of wonderful people that have not just encouraged my ideas but let me ramble to them 💜 thank you

@stray-kaz @rainbowpitofdoom @gingernut1314 @sordidmusings

#vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji #sanji #one piece sanji #sanji x reader #opla!sanji x reader #opla #opla sanji #one piece netflix #one piece live action #opla x reader

[dead-dove-yandere]

I don't know if orders are still open. But if so, I would like to ask for more from Smiley, a part 3 with more notes for the dear and more delirious as if they were a couple or even Laura with her kidnapped idol

I love your writing - ☺💙

Aaaah thank you so much! It makes me happy when people like my writing because it’s one of my favourite things to do. :]

TW: Stalking, obsession, kidnap, implied murder and cannibalism

It’s been a long while since you were kidnapped - forced into the boot of a car blindfolded and taken somewhere. You aren’t sure where, but it feels cold and the ground is hard but smooth, like tiles. It’s been quiet for ages and you can’t tell if your smiley faced stalker is still in the room or if they’ve left you. Somehow, you feel too scared to look, even though you’ve spent so long trying to catch even a glimpse of their face. You can’t tell how long it has been - it might have been an hour or merely five minutes. But with a gulp and a nervous breath, you finally reach up and pull off the blindfold, looking around the room. You’re alone. It’s empty, the floor and all the walls covered in tiles like a wet room. Before you is a pile of notes. Some on the typical post it notes you were used to, others on random scraps of paper, notepad sheets, takeaway menus, napkins, pieces of ephemera. Every single one has been scrawled in that red ink.

“You’re finally home dear! I missed you!”

“Wait here for me.”

“Where the hell have you been?!!”

“We need to have a serious talk.”

“Let’s have our first date!”

“Come find me.”

“I hate you.”

“I love you.”

They’re all contradictory, confusing, and many seem nonsensical. You aren’t sure which of the many instructions you’re supposed to adhere to. You listen out, but hear nothing, no footsteps or any sort of voice that could give you a clue as to where your captor was. You knew you had to take a chance. Perhaps there was a way to escape. Beyond the pile of notes was the door, and you grasped the handle, turning it and poking your head out. You see a hallway, much like one in any typical house. It’s dark, nearly pitch black, and you reckon it must be night. There isn’t a single light on in the house. You tip toe out, trying to keep quiet and avoid any floorboard creaks, but you pause when you feel something underneath your feet. You tap your pockets and realise your phone is gone. Of course your captor wouldn’t let you keep it. You squint through the darkness, your eyes adjusting and you can make out a trail of rose petals scattered on the floor. You feel certain that following them will have bad consequences, but perhaps there may just be a way out. With no other choice, you press on.

You follow the trail of petals down the stairs and into a room that looks like a kitchen. This room is dark too, but there is a little bit of illumination from two candles, set on top of a dining table. The table is set, good silver cutlery placed just so on top of folded serviettes, crystal glasses filled with a rich red wine, a beautiful linen table cloth protected by wooden placemats, on top of which are a pair of china plates placed across from one another, holding a still steaming dish. You take a cautious step closer and see the strange, gruesome meals - a sheep’s heart each, roasted and seasoned with salt and white pepper, sprigs of rosemary stuffed in the arteries at the top of the organ.

Well, you think it’s a sheep’s heart.

Before you can back away and try to find an exit, a gloved hand clamps over your eyes, as another grips your shoulder tightly enough to bruise and forces you to sit on the chair at the table. You yelp, but you’re too weak to resist, and the moment you collapse into the chair you’re blindfolded again. You start to whine and cry, but you’re gently shushed as the hand that covered your eyes before now caresses your cheek.

“You were meant to keep the blindfold on. You’ve spoiled the surprise,” your captor whispers. Their voice is strange, neither masculine not feminine, but just in that ambiguous middle range where it’s impossible to guess what gender they might be. You still don’t recognise that voice. You want to ask how you were meant to see the notes or the petal trail if you kept the blindfold, but you’re interrupted before you can say anything. Strong hands hold you tightly in a strange hug.

“It’s okay, the date’s not ruined. You’ve tried very hard to ruin date night recently haven’t you? Silly you. Don’t you know by now that I always get my way, darling?”

Divider’s Credit: See Pinned Post

#yancore #yandere #yandere blog #yandere fic #yandere imagines #yandere x darling #yandere drabble #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere x reader #yanblr #obsessive yandere #yandere x you #gender neutral yandere oc #gender neutral yandere #gender neutral reader #tw stalker #tw stalking #stalking #stalker #Smiley #Ask #Story

[feyreswaterybowels]

Shadows Dance 🐦‍⬛ (#3)

Azriel x Reader

Summary: (Y/N) has been taken by Jarek, being held hostage. She starts plotting to take him out.

Warnings: references to implied sexual assault.

Word Count: 1.3k

1 | 2 | Part 3 ↓

I stumbled as Jarek let me go roughly and I steady myself looking around. The house is large, and I’m not sure what court we’re in. I search for a window to get a clue, any clue at all but they’re all covered with thick drapery.

The foyer we stand in has dim lighting, everything is dark maroons, grays and blacks. Heavy chandeliers hang above, adorned with red crystals. There’s a large staircase in the middle directly across from a large set of doors, a corridor on each side.

“Welcome home,” Jarek breathes close to my ear and I jump, not realizing he had gotten so close to me.

“This is not my home,” I nap, taking a step away from him, reaching for my dagger only to find its sheath empty. Jarek’s laugh echoed around me.

“Did you think I would be dumb enough to leave any weapons on you?” He cocks an eyebrow at me, lifting his hand and twirling the dagger around. I don’t know when or how he got it but I fight to bare my teeth at him. That dagger had been a gift from Azriel on our 70th anniversary. “Your powers won’t work here either, girl. I’ve had a powerful ward placed on this house. Only my powers work here.”

I tried to reach out for Az, to let him know I’m unharmed but there was nothing there. I freeze, stomach twisting painfully. I couldn’t find our bond.

“Oh, yeah,” Jarek grins, “you won’t be reaching your mate here either. After all, how could I take you as mine while you’re connected to another? That simply wouldn’t do. Now, my servant will take you to your room. Get you cleaned up and out of those hideous clothes. You are to be down for dinner within the hour.”

A girl appears then. Dressed in a long maroon servants dress, black apron tied to her front. Her golden skin reminded me of those from summer court, her eyes were almost black and her dark, curly hair was pinned up at the nape of her neck.

She gestures for me to follow her and I approach.

“What is your name, dear?” I ask softly, her eyes widen as if shocked that I’ve spoken to her.

“She cannot speak so don’t try. Her tongue was removed when she was caught stealing,” Jarek speaks, voice dismissive. I raise my chin in anger.

“I would like to know her name,” I responded defiantly, this poor girl.

Jarek rolls his eyes to look at me. Watching silently for a moment before sighing—realizing I wasn’t going to let it go.

“Gianna.” He spits it out as if he hates to say it. I turned back to the girl, her dark eyes glossy, when was the last time she heard someone speak her name? And for it to be said with such hatred?

“Come, Gianna, I will follow you now,” I speak to her, kind and soft. I can see her gratitude, and can tell she wants to say something but she can’t. I give her a reassuring smile before gesturing for her to lead the way.

I hear Jarek scoff behind us but I ignore him, vowing that when I get out of here Gianna will be coming with me. She will make a wonderful addition to Velaris.

We go up the stairs, then down a long hall that twists and turns all different ways. We finally come to a stop, Gianna opens the door and I step inside.

I watch as she sets to work bustling around the room, lighting the fireplace, fluffing pillows before heading to the adjoining bathroom. I hear the water and smell the bath salts. I sigh, shaking my head before heading that way. There is a dress hanging to the left of the bathroom and I want to rip it to shreds. I undress without a bother before sliding into the bath.

Gianna retrieves my clothes but I gesture for her to come over.

“Where are we?” I whisper, barely heard over the running water of the bath. Her eyes widen slightly before looking behind her. “Blink once for yes, twice for no, okay?” I ask, just as quietly.

She gives me a small head nod and I’m relieved.

“Night Court?” Two blinks.

“Day? Dawn?” Two blinks.

“Winter? Summer?” Two blinks again. Fuck we’re far from home.

“Autumn?” One blink from wide eyes.

“Did you know my sister? Did you know Sarah?” I ask—one blink.

“Did he hurt her?” Dark eyes filling with was the only answer I needed. One blink. I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“Thank you, Gianna,” I whisper, letting her pull away. I see her quickly wipe her eyes before leaving the room, closing the heavy wooden door behind her.

He’s dead. That’s all you can think. Jarek will die. The bastard. To take her sister, harm her, all because of some stupid pettiness. How could he? How could he think I would ever want to be with him?

I need to play along. I need to play along long enough to get him to trust me and then I’ll kill him. Slit his throat. Rip his heart from his chest. Stab his eyeballs. Chop his dick off.

I slip under the water. Letting the warmth surround me. I want to go home. I want my sister. I want to know the name of the little boy who clung to her. I want Azriel. I want my family.

Only when my lungs scream for air do I come back out. I’m angry. I feel my body shaking with it once again. I hate him. I hate him with every fiber of my being.

I let myself be angry. As I wash my hair, bath myself, dress myself. I loathe my reflection in the mirror. I knew why he picked this dress and I hated him even more for it. I do my own hair and make up. I slap on the jewelry that isn't my style at all along with the shoes previously laid out.

I search for the bond again, knowing it’s hopeless but needing to try anyway. Nothing. Damn him.

I approach the bedroom door. Sighing. Relaxing into myself. Play the part. Earn his trust. Make him believe you want him. Then kill him. It’ll take time but I can do this. I leave the room, heading down the corridor. I’m not really sure where I’m going but eventually I find my way back to the staircase.

He’s there, waiting. He takes notice of me, dull eyes darkening, jaw clenching. When I reach him I offer my hand. He seems surprised and I roll my eyes. Gesturing for him to take my hand.

“Lead the way,” I breathe and I feel something tingly in that spot on my arm. The spot he marked me with. I keep my mental shields up. I will not allow him to communicate with me in any way through that bond. He is not my mate. He is not my High Lord or Lady. He is not a high lord at all. He is no one. Nothing.

I have to keep myself from snarling as he speaks, leading me down the corridor to the right of the stairs.

“You look stunning. Exactly like the night of our first date,” He says, looking over at me as we enter the dining room.

I give him a look of feigned surprise. “You remember that night?”

“Of course I do, it was the start of the best three years of my life, before you met him,” He seethed, hand gripping mine hard enough I thought it would break.

I yelped in pain, jerking my hand away.

“My apologies, I still get quite upset over losing you,” He says, leading you to sit at the table. He sits at the head to your left, pours you a glass of wine and you smile tightly in return.

“We have much to discuss, (Y/N),” Jarek starts pouring himself a glass.

You take a sip of your wine, smirking into the red liquid.

Let the games begin.

#acotar #azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel

[thewriterg]

♡︎𝐬𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐧𝐨𝐰♡︎

pairing(s): Jess Mariano x gn!reader, Jess Mariano x Gilmore!reader

summary: One of the many things Jess didn’t expect in the ungodly hour of the night was for you to be waking him up out of his sleep about ‘the smell is snow’ when it wasn’t even supposed to even start flurrying for another four weeks.Right?

word count: 680+

warning(s): Jess being grumpy per usual, first snowfall, pet names, kisses and language

A/n:—GIFs; @buffysummers— Me waiting for winter break; 🤨🧐

“Come on wake up, wake up hon you’re missing it” You whisper shouted shaking Jess lightly as he grumbled tossing and turning not even thinking to fully peel his eyes open and look at whatever hell hour of night it was

“Is it sleep because In that case you’d be right” The brunette mumbled into the pillow his head rested on as you rolled your eyes still attempting to shake him awake

“Smell the air, come on smell it.” You threw the covers back from the both of your bodies wrapping you arms under his dragging the boy to his feet

“Smell the air, come on smell it.” You threw the covers back from the both of your bodies wrapping you arms under his dragging the boy to his feet

“It smells cold, No it’s freezing!” Jess objected as soon as he could register what you were doing which made him try and pull the dead weight trick he used to do on cops but it was no use you were to blinded by it to even notice what your boyfriend was trying to pull

“The floor is cold” Now he tried to bargain with you plead to go back to bed but you still didn’t budge as you dragged him slowly to the front door

“God your so obsessed with the cold” You teased mocking the deep growls and groans that came from Jess as you began to hand him thick jacket having not switched over to a big coat yet

“That’s because it’s cold!”

💌💌💌💌

“I’m turning numb. Are my feet still attached to my body or did they snap off coming down the stairs?” The brunette complained as you both walked out into the middle of the empty streets clutching his body in a warm hug as if he were trying to keep himself together from falling apart under the harsh cold airs and winds

“They’re still there.” You sarcastically replied even going as far as to look back as if you were giving him the reassurance they were in fact Still there

“Why are we out here?” Jess could practically hear himself start whining hell he could get on his knees and plead for you to go back into your home if he didn’t already know your answer wasn’t going to change

“Take a Deep breath, yeah I smell snow” You declared as if it was you final decision and there was no turning back and Jess couldn’t look at you anymore crazy than he already was

“What!?”

“It’s coming I always know i can smell it and I’m never wrong” You both stopped abruptly in a random spot as you looked to the sky just waiting for it to finally fall

“It wasn’t in a forecast” Any other time you would have laughed at the thought of Jess sitting and actually watching a news station to get a weather report

“It’s Just my favorite time of the year the whole world changes color. Flakes, flurries, swirls, crystals, whatever form it comes in I’ll take it we go back snow and me we have a beautiful history.”

“I saw two forecasts neither ever mentioned snow cold, but no snow.” The brunette stated filling in the temporary pause of silence in your ranting

“Sleigh rides, ice skating, snowball fights I’ll even take curling and God I hate curling” You smiled brighter than a kid on Christmas morning starting to get a little antsy in your own skin

“Cranston on channel six said it would be dry. Kimmi listing live at five same thing no snow, nothing” Your boyfriend tried reminding you but as if he were talking to a wall he got no avail

“Hot cocoa, toddies, it’s the best time of the year.” It was so damn close you couldn’t practically taste the salt of it on your tongue

“Jimmy Mountain in a cue chopper once said it would be at least four weeks befo—” Jess’s word we’re stuck in his throat as flurries and snowflakes began to fall from the sky around you both

“Cranston and Kimmi are dumb asses.” Jess sighed in defeat wrapping his arm around you and you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face even if you wanted to

“Welcome friends.”

💌💌💌💌

Taglist; @maybankslover

If you ever wanted to me put you on or take you off of a taglist let me know!

#jess mariano #jess mariano x reader #jess mariano x you #jess mariano x y/n #gilmore girls #gilmore girls x reader #romance #fluff #fem!reader #male!reader #gn!reader #2022 #i love you #thewriterg

[mistydeyes]

OMG THERES 1K OF YOU!! I cannot believe it! Thank you all so much for all the love and support these last few months :) Literally tearing up at how many people love my works. It all started with a silly little pharmacist fic and look at where we are now!

To celebrate, I will be opening up my inbox for some prompts! For the next week, feel free to send me a character, a prompt below, and any other details (ex. female, male, or g/n character) :)

aesthetic prompts 💌 - CLOSED NOW! thank you for all the submissions :)

soft and cute - all fluff!

vase of flowers - they return home to your door with a small bouquet of flowers with rudy

loveseat - shopping for furniture for your shared home

linen tablecloths - hosting a dinner party (one that is pinterest worthy)

orange juice - sick days call for the best care

vintage maps - a spontaneous trip with an event filled itinerary

cherry lip balm - what was your first kiss like? with graves

paper rings - “put this on” “why did you make a ring out of the straw wrapper?”

ramekins of soup - you both are not experienced chefs but you try a new recipe in the kitchen

tuberose- looking at old photo albums and reminiscing on old memories

tote bags - “hey can you hold this for me?” “why do you have so many things?” “it’s not my fault these pockets don’t hold anything”

sugar cubes - they surprise you with your favorite dessert/sweet treat with price

music - “i made you a playlist!”

pearls - a fancy dinner out with expensive clothes and dining

folded sheets - "hi, i'm your neighbor across the hall :)"

gold - a small gifted ring as a token of your love with price

unlit cigarette - meeting in the most unexpected of places

hot chocolate - a warm snowed in cabin with nowhere to go

house plant - “for your new apartment!” “you know i’m not here enough to water that”

pastel bonnets and rattles - “we are NOT naming our child that”

perfume - perfume bottles decorate your bureau and you decide to let them choose your scent for the day with gaz

friendship bracelets - friends don't look at friends that way, is there something between us? with ghost

shower of tears - angst

crystal glasses - a fight ends with shattered wine glasses and someone is left to pick up the pieces with gaz

running mascara - "i can't believe you would say that to me" with the 141

hyacinth - they decide to interrupt the wedding just as you're about to say your vows with ghost

cardigans - "please don't go, please don't leave me" with ghost

sea salt - you can't do this anymore and just need to get away from them

stars - "do you think in another universe things would have worked out for us?"

cubic zirconia - you both come to the realization that your relationship is beyond repair

cold sheets - "can you hold me just one more time?" with soap and gaz

hydrangeas - a sudden death leaves one of you without the other for the rest of time

cocktails - "you need to stop drinking too much" "what do you know?"

graveyard - "please i don't want to die" with price

enlisted - military au

empty cartridges - "I want you to run, I'll cover you!"

uniforms - they sure clean up well as you look at them in their dress uniform with price

cigarette smoke - you share a cigarette (and exchange indirect kisses) while on patrol with ghost

confidential files - you're the newest addition to the team and you recognize a familiar face

jacket - you forgot to pack you winter gear and they're helping you avoid the cold

angel - this time you're their knight in shining armor as you save them with soap | with price

manila folders - "I'm being transferred to another unit"

bandages - you are the only one with the med kit and are tasked with patching them up

barbells - "you're doing it wrong, let me show you"

MREs - "can we switch? this food is absolute shit"

hit the showers (18+) - a prank ends with you getting your clothes and towel stolen with soap

wigs - you get sent undercover with them

hot and seductive - smut (18+)

lace (18+) - “wait for me in the bedroom, i have a surprise”with soap

stained lipstick (18+) - rough kisses in the back of an uber with gaz | with ghost

stolen glaces (18+) - "are you going to kiss me or not?"

tanning lotion (18+) - you just wanted help with an even lotion application but now their touch is venturing elsewhere

black and white photos (18+) - you take a few photos so they can remember you (and your body) while on deployment with price: part i and part ii

fruit juice (18+) - "let's test out that theory about drinking pineapple juice"

morning sun (18+) - you have nowhere to go and decide to spend it in bed ;) with ghost | with gaz | with price

silk (18+) - “you look absolutely gorgeous tonight”

#madebyizzie #cod mwii #mw2 imagine #task force 141 #mw2 #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #john price #johnny soap mactavish #kyle garrick x reader #simon riley x reader #john price x reader #johnny soap mctavish x reader #call of duty #mw2 headcanons #konig mw2 #alejandro vargas #rodolfo parra

[teopatra]

💙 Happy Blue Moon🌕 💙

💙🌕💙🌕💙💙💙🌕🌕🌕🌕💙💙💙🌕💙🌕💙

Posts like these you don’t sea 👁️ often .. maybe once every blue moon 🧿👄🧿

🪩♓️🪩♓️🪩♓️🪩♓️🪩♓️🪩♓️🪩♓️🪩♓️🪩♓️

Todays pick a pile messages are songs since Pisces energy and full moons are likened to mermaids whom are know for being sirens 🚨 🧜🏽‍♀️ 🧜‍♂️

Message 1:

During the full moon transit you’ll feel like there is a stillness in their air. Kind of like when the ocean gets eerily calm before a storm. A peaceful terror. You could feel the urge to be by yourself more or hermit in your own energy; it will befit you to turn off your devices and just listen to the sounds around you and your mind. The best thing you can utilize your phone for right now is noting your synchronicities and your feelings. If you notice people being distant don’t take it personally, but pay attention to how that makes you feel and the conversations people have with you especially your tone. Others you know are facing introspection and are delving into the deepest parts of their psyche. The intensity of repressed emotions may be too much for most to handle. I noticed my social media page engagements are lower than normal today, it reminds me of a ghost town with nothing but tumble weeds lol that’s the energy of this Pisces full moon. Work with quartz crystals, protect your immune system and indulge in a warm bath, shower, or foot soak since Pisces rules the feet.

Message 2:

At this time you will experience MORE lucid dreams. Pay attention to the people in your dreams and what these particular people may say to you in your dreams. It’s one thing to be lucid in the dream state but it’s another to wake up with dream amnesia. Why is that? Bc something in your waking life is not aligned with your higher self meaning you could indulging in bad habits like not getting enough rest and over saturating your third eye with too much media. You’re prob a creative person or a water sign so you should be clearing your mind. Create something that is visually stimulating for you to aid in your create process and ease/unload the mind; mercury rx is cashing a lot of mental tension rn. A salt bath, a foot soak with pink Himalayan salt or you may need to gargle with salt water to unblock throat chakra blockages. Try sleeping next to grounding crystals and dream enhancing crystals like blue apatite. Also don’t sleep directly next to your phone, turn TV’s, mirrors, phones, tablets, and other types of black mirrors away from your bed if you can. If not try covering them with a towel or something light. Work on protecting your aura and strengthening your auric field

Message 3:

Worrying about an ex at this time is unhealthy for you. As much as you may think this person will change it’s not up to you to focus on them, pour into yourself wholeheartedly and you’ll see where your shadow work needs to be done and why you feel the need to give to someone who probably doesn’t have your best interest at this time. I see a lot of people from your past being nostalgic over you, but that is none of your concern anymore. Turn from the past and be open to all possibilities ( this is the mantra for piscerian energy). Your destiny is waiting for you, but you are holding on to your karmic energy. The moon has met up with Saturn as he’s been transiting Pisces since the beginning of the year, so challenge yourself to let go of the things that aren’t serving you and you know what they are. Also everyone seems to be on edge so it’s best to just be quiet stay out the way and mind your business until mercury retrograde blows over. If you’ve been overindulging in tarot stop, OR you may notice that tarot isn’t resonating with you lately like it used to. Try intuitive games to improve your own cartomancy or tarot skills if you’re into that

Message 4:

I see you have done a lot of shadow work over the years and it has caused you to feel a bit isolated at times and that’s because others have not done ENOUGH self development therefore you are not resonating with most people. You are supposed to soar and it may feel lonely at the top but know that you are an example of Christ consciousness to those around you. you are a beacon of light that illuminates a path behind you. You are not a flash light searching for dark spots. Reward yourself for how far you’ve come and don’t stop because this is how you will romanize your life turning fantasies into reality. The full moon wants you to relax and to plan ahead so you can have a more fulfilled day. Pisces is a mutable sign meaning ever changing , therefore this energy can be a bit sporadic. Which isn’t always bad, BUT I see time can easily evade you if your daily intentions aren’t set properly. You’ll see what I mean if you haven’t already. I see you thinking back on this post weeks later like ohhhh now I get it. 🤭 also eat some more vegetables, try making more home cooked meals bc it’ll be therapeutic .

Message 5:

Please be mindful that with most people in their late 20’s experiencing their Saturn returns with the moon currently in the same sign as Saturn may force you to observe people change for the better or for worse. It all depends on one’s karma and the work they’ve chosen to do or lack thereof. With the sun being n Virgo and Virgo being the sign of the hermit, the change of season will cause you and others to recluse and maybe even become lethargic. For example during this time of year most people go back to school, and as the older generation phases out and retires, the old “students” are the new teachers. I see a lot of millennials changing the dynamics of school systems compared to how we experienced it growing up. You are the future, help your inner child and inner teenager even if you’re an adult by connecting with those younger than you. If YOU are a teenager pay attention to those in their mid to late twenties. A lot of times we think our lives are going to go certain ways and end up something completely diff. Just know that if you’re aspiring to do something that may not need a traditional education don’t waste your money going to school for something you don’t even really wanna do or you’re doing it for just the money or to satisfy family. Find the moon tonight and do some moon gazing , stare at her and let your mind wonder off; your higher self will handle the rest.

Message 6:

People want to know what you’re up to 👀 I see you have a magnetic energy like the moon. People stare at you like they do the moon, for some reason I see you’re a walking personification of a mirrored portal. You are a conduit of the higher dimensions, you see a person but they see you as a hypnotic metronome. Just like the effect the full moon has on mythological creatures like mermaids and werewolves, I’m seeing you know you had some time of power of psychic gift but you’ll begin to resonate with being other worldly as your gifts play out in front of you. Pisces energy is about illusions and for some reason you create an optical illusion that doesn’t play tricks on peoples eyes but their minds 😵‍💫 THIS message will only resonate with a small few but please comment if you experience any weird nuisances. With great power comes great responsibilities, be careful not to put people in trances at the wrong time, don’t stare at people back if they stare at you but if it’s a lover stare and you’ll both take an astral trip. Please move in silence at this time and work on grounding. Going into hermit mode will benefit you and please don’t get distracted by lust bc I see that being the side effect of this heightened power rn like a hungry vampire. Also stop trying to be captain sage a h*e and realize how earthly you’ve been, lighten your aura in weight.

🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝🌖🌗🌘🌜

🩻This is your time to illuminate the truth deep within you bc you already hold the answers you seek.. there’s no research to be done at this time because you have spent the time and effort. Now you are reaping the rewards

#channeled message #oracle message #pisces #aquarius #taurus #aries #gemini #cancer #leo #Virgo #libra #Scorpio #Sagittarius #tarot #astrology #capricorn #pick a card #pac reading #pac #free tarot #tarot tumblr #pick a pile #pick an image #reading #intuitive readings #pick a song #pick a picture #full moon #blue moon #pisces moon

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

I Burn for You (Literally)

Bucky Barnes x plus size reader

A day in the sun has serious consequences, like getting cock-blocked

Warnings: bad sunburns, not full-on smut but heated, nudity, massages, this is just fluff

WC: 1.8k

A/N: This was written for my best friend in the world who I'm completely in love with and is my platonic soulmate

Minors DNI

1000 Follower Celebration

The white sand beneath your feet was blazing as you ran back up to the mega mansion Tony bought specifically for an Avengers’ vacation. Well, he actually bought the fucking island and then had a house built but those are semantics.

Everyone had been loaded onto a huge private plane and flown to the isolated island where they were each given their own room and free range to do whatever they wanted for the week. Mostly it was staying the fuck away from each other until dinner, when everyone would gather in the insanely massive kitchen and get hammered.

The water was a crystal clear blue and calm, and with the sun always out, it was constantly the perfect temperature, both in and out of the ocean. So you had no issue with stripping down to the very expensive black bikini Natasha bought you and guilted you into wearing, and going for a dip.

Well, it was less than a dip, and more of a ‘spend the entire day in the water and now my hands look like they’re 80’. You romped around in the sea for hours, like you weren’t a highly trained, greatly feared assassin. You, of course, never noticed the icy blue eyes gazing adoringly at you as you dove into the surf.

After a few hours, the sun and salt had finally gotten to you. You needed a huge glass of cold water, a snack, a shower, and a nap, specifically in that order. Well, maybe a nap first.

You hadn’t bothered to bring a towel since the beach was barely twenty steps from the massive patio hanging from the back of the house. “Ow ow ow ow.” You hissed, tender feet coming into contact with the burning sand. You hopped from one foot to the other as you ran up the small path through the row of flowering hedges around the property. 

You sighed in relief as you stepped onto the considerably cooler deck. Thankfully, none of your teammates were in the house today, having gone out to explore the island a bit more, so none of them saw you sprint to the outdoor shower, stripping down completely and drenching yourself in cool, fresh water. 

“That’s the good stuff.” You practically moaned as the cold water ran down your overheated skin, washing away the copious amounts of salt that covered you. You pulled a small bar of soap off of the shelf hidden in the wooden slats of the house. The peppermint smell invaded your senses as you lathered yourself up, running the suds over your generous curves.

Your eyes fluttered shut, turning beneath the spray so the cold water could drip down your back. You shot forward as the first drops of water landed on your shoulders, pain shooting through you. Fingers running up the back of your neck, you felt it, the tell-tale heat from a sunburn. “Fuck me.” You whined, shutting off the shower.

Gingerly stepping into the multi-million dollar mansion, overly conscious of the water you were dripping on the pristine floors, you rushed up the stairs, shooting for your room. It was tucked away from the rest of the bedrooms since you were the only one in a couple and no one wanted to ‘hear you and iceman going at it every hour of the day’ as Tony so eloquently put it.

The room was just big enough for a king sized bed and a small wardrobe that was the perfect height for you to be bent over and- well you get the picture. Stepping over the many clothes that had been left on the floor in your haste to get out and swim. Scooping up a pair of boxers and a loose tank top that belonged to your partner, you waddled into the en suite to get a good look at what was probably going to be the most horrendous sunburn of your life.

You turned your back to the giant mirror above the marble sink after throwing the clothes on the counter beside you. Your eyes widened at the sheer size of the burn. It spread across your shoulders, up the back of your neck and all the way down your back, leaving only small strips of undamaged skin where your bikini sat on your body.

“Well that’s not good.” You groaned as you shifted, your tender skin burning. “Doll?” A deep voice called out to you. Hurrying, you pulled on the boxers and shirt just before a large form filled the entryway. Bucky smirked as he glanced down at you, his blue eyes getting darker at the sight of you dressed in his clothes, obviously not wearing anything underneath.

“What do we have here? Cause it looks like a sweet little doll was waiting for her big strong man to come play with her.” He growled playfully, his bulky body moving forward to capture you in his thick arms. His lips immediately descended on your throat, nipping at your pulse point. 

You couldn’t help it, your head lolled back as he gripped you tighter, pressing his hard body even closer to yours, and since he was only wearing a pair of board shorts, there was almost no barrier between the two of you. You could feel the heat of his hard cock against your soft tummy through his shorts as he bit and sucked on your throat. “B-Bucky.” He groaned at the way you gasped his name. 

“That’s my good girl. Keep saying my name like that, see where it gets you.” He threatens, his voice deep and breathy, teetering on the edge of a growl. You clutched onto his wide shoulders, nails digging into the firm muscle you knew so well. 

As his hands moved from your hip bones up to your back, the hot and cold of his palms sent a shiver of anticipation through you, and then you suddenly winced. Immediately he stopped and pulled away, eyes hard and searching for an injury. He glanced over your shoulder to the mirror behind you, that showed exactly what was causing you pain.

“Oh doll,” He murmured, cold fingers tracing your upper back with a delicate touch, “This looks like it hurts.” Your skin was on fire, heat radiating from your body. But the chill of his metal hand, soothed it temporarily. As soon as he moved onto another spot on your back the throbbing returned with a vengeance.

“I told you to put on sunscreen this morning.” “I did!” You whined, trying to pull out of his grasp, but he wouldn’t budge. Damn those super soldier muscles.

He chuckled. “C’mon then baby, let’s get you fixed up.” With practiced ease, he lifted you up, letting your feet dangle above the title floor before tucking you into his chest, mindful of your sore back. Your nose fell to the crook of his neck and you couldn’t help but inhale his scent, that spicy cinnamon smell that clung to all his clothes.

His embrace was comforting, like it always was. The feeling of unconditional love and safety he exuded relaxed you, making you sink into his big arms as he carefully turned from the en suite, his steps surprisingly light as he tried not to jostle you.

Striding into the room, he dropped you, face first, onto the bed, the silky sheets cooling down your body. “Now just stay like that for a bit doll. I’ll be right back.” You heard him walk away and seemingly out of nowhere, you were exhausted. With the cool ac blowing directly over your burnt skin and the smell of Bucky on the pillow beneath your head, you were easily lulled into a light slumber.

A weight on your legs makes your eyes flutter open. “Don’t worry doll, I’ll take care of you.” With gentle movements, the tank top was lifted over your head and dropped back down to the floor. The sound of a plastic cap opening woke you up a bit more, but not enough to motivate you to properly open your eyes.

“We can have sex later, let me sleep in peace.” You muttered into the pillowcase. The deep rumble of his quiet laugh shook you slightly. “It’s not lube sweetheart, besides you always get wet enough that I can just slide right in.” You feel his breath on your ear as he drops his voice low, the way he sounds on nights when he wants you to follow his every command.

A moan bubbles from your throat and you wiggle your hips back. He kissed your ear lobe before sitting back on his haunches, straddling your thick thighs. Squirting out some of the gel onto his hands, he rubbed them together so it wasn’t too cold. “Fuck.” You whimpered as he finally put his palms onto your skin.

“That’s my good girl.” The cold gel immediately soothed the fire on your back, making you breathe out a sigh of relief as you relaxed into the sheets. His touch was soft at first, the calluses on his hands barely brushing over your back, but the more relaxed you became, the more pressure he applied. “That feel good pretty girl?” You grunted in response.

It was like that for a while, just silence between the two of you as Bucky carefully massaged your back, making sure to apply more aloe where needed. He pushed his thumbs into the knots along your spine, avoiding the more tender spots along your body. As the fire died down and it felt like your skin was finally able to move without feeling like it had been stretched too tight, you slumped onto the mattress, a calmness overtaking you.

“Alright sweetheart, we just have to let that sit and you should be good as new.” He kissed the base of your neck and made a move to get off your legs. Your arm shot out and held tightly to his firm thigh. “More kisses. Please.” God, he couldn’t resist that little whine in your voice when you desperately wanted something.

He could never deny you anything.

“Whatever you want, doll.” You smiled lazily and let go of his thigh, pushing your hands underneath your pillow. You felt the tickle of his long hair as he bent over you, lowering his face to your back once more. His soft lips pressed lightly to your skin, the scrape of his stubbled jaw making heat pool between your legs.

He methodically kissed every inch of skin he could touch, falling into a steady rhythm. He lived for moments like this, where he could worship your body quietly, appreciating that you trusted him enough to let him see you like this, to let him touch you like this. By the time he reached the plump curve of your ass, your breathing had evened out and your heart rate was slow.

He smiled dumbly at you sleeping beneath him. Kissing you one last time, he slid off of you in favour of laying on the bed beside you. He rested his metal arm on your back, knowing you liked the chill of it against you when you slept, and just watched you, until he, himself, drifted off, content in your presence.

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#plus size reader #fluff #beefy!bucky x plus size reader #reader insert #bucky x plus size reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #female reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #smut #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier #beefy!bucky #bucky barnes smut

[ibrithir-was-here]

Old short story I wrote a couple of years ago and then forgot about. Remembered it the other day, gave it a bit of a brush up, and figured I'd share it. My own take on the old "Dark Snow White" retelling

Sunlight and Snowdrops

Father is sending us away tomorrow, sent for schooling at a monastery far off in the south. His new wife--The Usurper, who I will not grace with the title of queen-- tells us of the walled gardens, where pomegranates and figs grow almost year round on trees with leaves as large and tall as a man, a place where the sea still rushes up freely to meet the shore, long stretches of golden sand, forever warm to the touch.

She has talked of little else for months now, as if she and Father hope that such constant chatter will somehow soften us to the idea of our exile, make us forget the kingdom she has stolen from us, just as she has stolen his heart. And perhaps with my sisters she has somewhat succeeded . They always did take after Father, with their butter-yellow hair, and skin flushed like ripe peaches. Perhaps they were always more suited for such places. But I am my mother’s daughter, as any who look upon me can tell, and I will not be made to forget.

For how could such a flat, lurid place ever hope to compare with the beauty of my mother’s kingdom? What is a stretch of damping sea-shore to the beauty of a deep lake, forever crystallized into the finest mirror? What are walled gardens with their mad jumble of gaudy fruits to the dark towering pines, whispering to each other as the wind moves through them? What monastery could ever hope to reach heaven in the way that the mountains of the valley swell up in dark waves, to crack the egg-shell gray of the sky?

It is the blue sky of that far off place I fear most of all. What want have I for a sky of unchanging blue, suffocating in it’s immensity, with its one great burning eye beating down to peel and crack my skin in the day, and it’s thousand eyes to stare down at night? My mother’s pale sky has never once burned me, never once stared into my dreams, not with her veils of snow to protect me. Her sky is forever changing, shifting from stillness to storm on her whim. Blasting and breaking, soothing and softening, blanketing all with her beautiful covering of pure, protective white.

But my father’s new queen has poisoned its beauty for him, turning his head with her talk of salted water and coarse sand. If she wishes to retreat to such places, then I say let us be well rid of her. If my father and sisters are fools enough to follow her, to believe the lies she and her counselors and sages have spread about my mother, the rightful queen, then let them be off as well. I know the truth, I have not forgotten, I of all her daughters, have remained faithful.

There are so few of us now. So many have turned away from their true queen. But though loyalty is fragile, memory remains as firm as the ice upon the Great Lake. Despite their seeming love for the Usurper, The common people still tell my mother’s story. The Usurper thinks that because she was once one of them, a drudge plucked from obscurity by the weakness of my father’s will, that their hearts have turned to her in full.

But they can never forget my mother completely, she does not let them.

When the winds howl thick, like wolves at the door, the tale, long and wondrous and wild, is whispered between huddled crones and wide-eyed children.

A tale that takes hold of the mind and heart, as surely as the cold takes to the bones.

It begins in Winter, for indeed, how could it not?

A winter long and dark, when my grandmother, a woman wise in the old ways of the world, sat sewing at her window, looking out into the forest that spreads like an ink stain all round the castle, the snow falling heavy all around her, silencing the world as she made her request to the magic of the woods.

Three drops of her own blood she spilt to gain her heart's desire, a child for her childless king. And a child she received, a beauty such as never been seen. Hair black as the trees of the forest, lips as red as the blood she had given, and skin as white as the purest snow. A child of the winter woods, born on winter’s darkest night.

A life had been granted, and so was a life taken away. My grandmother lived long enough to bless my mother with her name, and the king, who once had so longed for a child, was now too grieved to bear the sight of his new daughter. And so my mother was given over to the wife of the castle’s woodsman, recently blessed with a child of her own, and who, most importantly, lived in a cottage on the edge of the woods, far, far away from the castle grounds, and her mourning father’s eye.

For seven years my mother grew up in the care of the woodsman’s family, as loved as if she were their own blood daughter, and the girls loved each other as sisters. They spent many days beneath the shadows of the trees, and learned much from the woods. They say even then, before she had come into her power, that the creatures and spirits of that place knew my mother as part of their blood, knew that something of her had come from something within them, and protected her for it.

It was in the winter of her fifth year that she met my father, a lad of nine, trapped within an enchanted bearskin. She and her foster sister brought him into the warmth of their cabin, saving his life, and each winter for three years after, he returned. She told me once that those winters were some of the happiest memories of her life, surrounded by those she loved in the shelter of the snows.

It was in summer that her sorrows came.

It was in summer that my mother discovered the gnome that had cursed her bear, and by his death my father was freed from his enchantment, only to then return to his own far off kingdom. It was in summer that my mother was parted from her foster family, recalled to court at last--only to find her own usurper on her father’s arm.

The people of the land adored the lady who had come to them out of the sun-drenched south, calling her their Summer Queen, praising her for the abundance that had blessed the lands since she had wed the king. And surely there was never a woman so beautiful. They say that her hair flowed like sunlight itself down her shoulders until it touched the floor, braided all over with flowers of every hew, and her eyes were as blue and bright as an August morning.

My mother said she could feel those eyes trying to melt her the moment she was brought before them.

My mother was not at court long. One day, the Summer Queen surprised her with a visit from her foster-father, and though he smiled at her, his eyes seemed grim and troubled. They traveled together down to the edge of the woods, far from the eyes of any in the castle--and there he took out the knife, carved all over with flowers, to cut out her heart.

(He claimed later, when the coup was over, and my mother restored to the throne, that he had only done so to protect his family, his own little daughter. My mother granted him the same pity he had shown her, and sent him into the woods, alone and unarmed. I do not know to this day if he fell to the animals or the cold that finally came, but by all accounts, he was never seen again.)

My mother, for her part, wandered for months alone beneath the boughs of the woods. The animals did not harm her, the woods knew its own, but she dared not venture near the edges where human souls still delt, fearful now that any might betray her to the Summer Queen. And as remarkable as she was, she was still only a child, and had never had to care for herself before, and she longed for the cheer and company of creatures like herself.

More than that, the heat of a seemingly endless summer wore at her. August passed into September and September to October and on, with nary a change to be seen. The leaves on the trees remained green, and did not fall. The rivers ran along as full and fat as ever, though there was no snow left to feed them. The sun felt like a great eye, searching for her beneath the sheltering shadows of the forest. Only at night did she find respite, and she longed for the relief of a winter that never came.

Farther and farther she wandered, seeking someplace where she might find some sign of chance, some shelter from the daylight that stretched longer and longer. At last, she found herself upon the slopes of the farthest mountain. Her feet were worn ragged from wandering, and her tongue was cracked from the heat, but with the last of her strength, she managed to stagger to the summit, and there, in a hollow tucked into the dark shadows of the peaks, so dark that even the hottest of summers could not fully touch them, she found snow.

And there her strength finally deserted her. She lay down upon the snow as contentedly as if it had been a feather bed, and might have slipped into the endless sleep beneath that cold coverlet, had it not been for the little men.

The frozen-beards, the valley people call them. Dwarfs that live in the fields of ice upon the mountains, having little to do with the valley people. They delight in the cold, they are said to be able to call up snow storms to hide their homes,and in winter they might be seen galloping along in the wake of an avalanche as happy as a child at play. But for all the ice of their beards, they are warm of heart, and they took the half-frozen child into their home as readily as if she had been one of their own.

For seven years, my mother at last knew peace. In the caves of the mountains she learned much of the songs and stories and skill of her new family. She learned the shaping of swords and the setting of gems,and the summoning of wind and fog, and was happy.

But nothing lasts forever, and at last, summer found her patch of hidden winter.

The king of a far-off land had proclaimed his intention to visit our valley kingdom, which had grown in renown-- and profit-- thanks to the summer that seemed trapped within the crown of our mountain valley. The rivers and Great Lake were never clear of vessels shipping goods out and bringing gold in. Both people and purses grew fat from the bounty, and basked in the seemingly endless sunshine.

There was one stain however, upon the glorious reign of the Summer Queen, though it was only spoken of in whispers, for it would not do to complain of such small misfortune within the wake of so many blessings.

The Draining Sickness.

It came on quickly, overnight in some cases. Those afflicted withered away, drained, pale and almost bloodless, like unwatered plants beneath the noon-day sun. No one knew how it spread, it seemed to only strike one village at a time; and oddly the most healthy and comely succumbed first, as if offended by their vitality and beauty.

Fate however, seemed inclined to some mercy. For each village that was stricken with loss soon found itself blessed with an overflowing of crops and commerce, as if Death felt some blood money was owed.

It was not only the young and lovely who were taken though. The old King, my mother’s father, was struck down on Summer’s Eve itself— along with seven young girls from each of the surrounding villages. But the grief over these deaths was short-lived, such was the glory of the days that followed, the golden sunlight drying the tears from the cheeks of the mourners even as they fell. Indeed, it seemed hard to grieve anything beneath the sun of that long, long summer. The Summer Queen, clothed in green and yellow and scarlet and blue, wore only a black ribbon around her neck for mourning, and none falted her.

It was then that the rumors came, rumors that the visiting king was not only there to see the beauty of the valley, but of its women as well. Indeed, those coming before his entourage said that he was seeking out one who was rumored to be the Fairest of them All.

The Summer Queen, shining almost to match the blazing endless sun, was more than happy to aid him in his search. And it was undoubtedly her efforts to ensure her own success in fulfilling the terms of his quest which led her to discover that my mother’s heart--which she thought she had devoured seven years ago, at the start of her endless summer --still beat it’s red,red blood within her snow white breast.

A grand celebration was proclaimed in the king’s honor, a festival of such magnificence as had never been seen outside of the old stories, and travelers came from all the surrounding lands to take part, ply their trades, and sell their wares. Up and over the mountains they came, and several passed by the cave where my mother dwelt.

Was it any wonder that my mother, still so young, having found a measure of peace in that snowy valley which soothed the burns upon her soul, and made her long to return somewhat to the world of men and look once more upon human faces, took in good faith the laces, brought by from far by the cargo boats; the comb, carved and painted so cleverly with a myriad flower; and finally, most beautiful blood-red summer apple, grown in her father’s own orchard?

When my mother woke again-- to the face of my father, returned from afar at last to find the girl who had freed him from his curse, and had now freed her in return-- she was not so naive.

My father had brought many men with him, and the people of the valley had grown slow and complacent in their bounty. When his men came with their swords, and the frozen-beards called up their icy winds, and my mother rode down upon the capitol in a sleigh made from her own glass coffin, they were not prepared to withstand the onslaught. Soon enough all had either fallen to their knees —or fallen where they stood.

The Summer Queen danced at my mother’s wedding, in shoes crafted by my mother herself, in the art taught to her by her foster-fathers. Shoes which returned upon the Summer Queen all the heat of the sun which she had stolen by her sacrifices and bloody rites.

Then my mother took up her rightful throne, and winter came at last to the valley.

My mother and father were wed in the open courtyard, as the snow fell like diamonds all around them, and all agreed they had never seen a more beautiful sight. My mother’s foster sister, who had remained loyal to her true queen, was reunited with her, and wed to my father’s brother. Children followed both of them after, and for many years, the natural order of the seasons came and went.

It was on my seventh birthday that my mother found the mirror, tucked behind a tapestry woven with fruit and flowers, in the abandoned tower of the Summer Queen.

No one knows where the Summer Queen obtained the mirror. Some have claimed it was a wedding gift from her godfather, a fallen priest who had taken supper at the Scholomance. Others that she crafted it herself, from water and moonlight, on a witch’s sabbath. But my mother told me once that the mirror was only a shard of a greater whole, and that the Summer Queen had only happened upon it, and though her own powers were great, her vain and narrow mind only able to discover the basest powers of the mirror.

But my mother-- born of blood and snow and forest, learned in the lore of the mountain folk, the perfect inversion in shape and soul of the Summer Queen-- could feel at once what was before her. She had higher aspirations than to know of mere beauty. After all, why should she trouble herself over such trivial questions?

She was, and is, the Fairest of them All.

No, my mother asked for vision and clarity, and the mirror readily supplied, showing her the darkness that lay in the hearts of men, the twisted, choking desire she had already tasted in an apple grown of blood and summer heat, and she knew what she must do.

That night, on Summer’s Eve itself, the snows began to fall.

The winters lie heavy on our land now, as heavy as summer once did. Our borders have shrunken back to what they were before the days of the Summer Queen. The rivers she once choked with cargo boats and merry-makers now flow freely beneath the protection of their own glass coffins. The flowers that once crowned her traitorous head have not been seen in many a year. The mountains are eternally capped with snow, the frost-beards no longer trapped within their narrow valley. Our kingdom, once vibrantly flushed with the blood of those taken to feed an endless summer, is now white and pure, cleansed by the endless falling snow.

My mother saved her kingdom from a blood soaked opulence, from a land made rich and fat off the hearts of their own, and yet they still turned upon her. Called her witch, demon, and worse. In the end, as the purifying snows fell heavier and heavier, The Usurper-- covered in ash from the fires she’d set to hold the snows at bay-- besieged the capitol. With her brother at her side, with an army of thred-bare shop-keepers and merchants laid low, she came up the Great Road with as much pride and assurance as if the crown sat already upon her head.

My aunt, foster-sister of my mother, and others who remained loyal, who knew their true queen for the power that she was, fought back. Indeed, my aunt and the wolves that answered to her slew The Usurper’s brother upon the very threshold. But the faithful were soon overwhelmed. The few who survived were driven into the woods, seeking the shelter that had been granted to my mother. The Usurper had the trees set ablaze, calling out that the dark powers of the forest would not be allowed to aid the followers of a witch. Her army came right up to the palace gates. And my father, my dear, foolish, fearful, traitorous father, who’s heart had been turned by The Usurper’s treacherous lies--himself unbarred the door for her.

My mother did not flee, whatever they say. She who had vowed to never be driven by anyone again, she who had bent the very elements to her will. She did not flee before The Usurper’s feeble army of ragged townsfolk and treacherous palace guards,even as they tore up her portraits, burned her books, and smashed her mirror into a thousand pieces.

No,they were not granted that victory. When she fell, she fell of her own accord, and her white gown sparkled like snow-flakes in the sun as she dived, down from the window at which her mother had once sat sewing, down, down into the blazing, waiting embrace of the woods that had heard her mother’s prayer.

When the fires at last burned themselves out, they found my mother’s body, ash covered, but untouched by the flames, as if even they could not bear to besmirch her beauty. She was placed once more in the glass coffin that bore her name, and it sat in state for three days in the royal chapel. She was, after all, a king’s daughter, and wife of another. On the third day, it was gone. Some claim she was properly buried, far beneath the ground, with a hawthorn branch in her heart. Others say that the rebels took the coffin, and burned it till the glass was melted down into a lump as black as her hair had been. The faithful say that the frost-beards came in the dark of the night, and reclaimed their daughter, carrying the coffin up once more to the high valley where my father once found her, to await the day when she will awaken again.

If she has not so already.

For though my mother’s crown sits on The Usurper’s head, and her daughters are to be sent to the far corners of the earth, in hopes the heat of the sun and the scent of the flowers will drive her from their hearts, the winter still lays heavy upon the land, and the wind has not ceased to blow since the day that she fell.

Father is sending us away tomorrow, and I do not think he shall be long in following. So many have left already. He longs for the shores of his youth, where the spring and summer follows after the winter. My uncle, his brother, has already returned there, with many of his children. The common folk are leaving as regularly as they can clear the mountain passes, which is not easy in these times. The birds and gentler animals left years ago. Soon, it will be only the wolves that prowl the dark woods, edging closer and closer into the towns as more and more people abandon my mother’s frozen kingdom. They say that the spectre of my aunt can be seen running with the wolves sometimes, when the moon is obscured by clouds, red cloak trailing behind her like blood on the snow.

They can send me away, but I shall find my way back. A thousand’s flowers scents could not make me forget the smell of the pines, a thousand bird’s songs could not drown out the howl of the wind. The bluest of skies cannot burn away the purest of snows. Not all the mirror’s pieces were ground to powder. I managed to save one, one single shard reclaimed in the chaos that shattered my childhood. I have kept it close, reworked and polished it, set it into a clasp on a chain that rests even now against my heart, hidden beneath my dress so that The Usurper cannot see. Already I have learned much, not as much as my mother, I do not claim that, but enough

And when the time is right, I know it shall lead me home. Past the guards that will be placed at the door, past the gates that will be barred, over the rivers and hills and far away, back to my mother’s mountain. And there I know I shall find her again, hair as black as night, lips as red as blood, skin as white as snow; riding in her sleigh of glass thru the eternal winter air to meet me.

#my writing #snow white #snow white retelling #got inspired by a few different short stories #Tanith Lee's Red as Blood #Neil Gaiman's Snow Glass Apples #and Theodora Goss' England Under the White Witch #plus just my own love of faitytales and finding ways to mash them together #also wanted to do a dark Snow White story where she doesn't just start out as an evil vampiry child #but becomes corrupted by her fear and trauma #snow white and the seven dwarfs #snow white and rose red #little red riding hood #hansel and gretel #(the usurper is meant to be gretel as in some varients she grows up to marry a king #and who better to kill a witch?) #honestly would love to come back and explore some of the other characters in this story like her and red riding hood) #the snow queen #(really i think i just wanted to tie all the snow white/snow stories together x) #short stories #short story #walter crane #for the banner art #dwarves #witches #vampires #kinda with the witch queen

[sirowsky-stories]

The Old Prince

Part 9

Author's Note: New Header! Because, oh yes, we're getting some major plot-twists! Can you tell I'm excited?

Description: You and Oberyn make a shocking discovery, which then leads to further complications, and not just for yourselves.

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Warnings: Monster Oberyn Martell x Female Reader, AU fic, obviously Halloween themed, reader cusses. Major TW for descriptions of small child being murdered. Word Count: 7500 Author's Masterlist

   His home is calling. That is where he feels he must go to find the answers, even though you have no connection to Egypt beyond your association to him.    But you were correct when you said it was his bite which ignited all this, changing you, or perhaps triggering something dormant from your innermost being. But whether it had always been there or was somehow put there by the dragon, there is no denying the fact that had you never crossed paths with Oberyn, you would likely have remained ordinary.

   You’re still not awake when he carefully lands in the desert, far enough from any cities or settlements that no human eyes can track his descent, and he ensures that no people are crossing the barren landscape before he settles on a location.    The ground is covered in crystalized salt, a remnant of the past when there was still a body of water here, although that was before even his time. But these views still bring back memories of his childhood, which is one of the reasons why he has rarely ever been back here.

   Now though, he needs those memories. He must learn what is happening to the two of you, because he is convinced that your fates are linked in some manner, and although he does not yet have so much as a hypothesis, it feels as though the answer is knowable. He merely needs to find the right clues.    But before he’s had a chance to do anything, you finally stir within his paws, so he pulls you away from his chest to see if you have awakened.

   The bright afternoon sun is piercing to your eyes, which have been closed for several hours by now, so he quickly shifts you back underneath his shadow again, while you climb out of his hands and step onto the age-old sands.

   “Wh-what happened? Where are we?” you ask, sounding disoriented by more than the unfamiliar surroundings, as though the light within you has altered some fundamental aspect of your sense of self, which is far more believable than it might sound.

   But he cannot answer you in his dragon form, so he steps back to transform, careful not to accidentally swipe at you as his much larger form is retracted and folded away within him.

   “Not far from where I was born,” he replies as soon as his mouth is functional again, while attempting to rearrange the weapons he had brought.

   It had seemed prudent at the time to offer you something with which to defend yourself once the creatures had been located, even though he knew you would likely not be able to harm them. However, he has found that humans often find comfort merely in having the means of defending themselves, regardless of the chances for success. And given your quite obvious association with the dragon, it wouldn’t have hurt you to have the possibility of safeguarding yourself against potential aggression from humans either.    Unfortunately, this reasoning had slipped his mind once the hunt had begun, so the weapons are now mostly an inconvenience.

   “We’re in Egypt?” you question, clearly somewhat confused since your last memories before passing out were of the northern Californian coast.

   “Yes. Something happened with the spirits and I… felt compelled to seek some answers.”

   “What do you mean? What happened?” you ask, and you sound frightened now.

   He gives up on the weapons, letting them drop to the ground for now, so that he can put his arms around your waist and hold you while he explains.    Because he feels certain you will appreciate the support once you’ve heard what he has to say.

   “When you hit the water, Octopus was there, ready to drag you down and end you, and I couldn’t get to you in time. I dove and swam after you, but she’s much faster than I am under water. I never would’ve caught up to you.    She took you so deep so quickly that I thought your brain would surely have imploded by the time I reached you. But instead, you saved yourself.”

   You look utterly baffled hearing this, and he does not blame you. For a few seconds, you merely stand idle in his embrace, thinking hard by the looks of it.

   “But I was unconscious…” you try to reason, closing your eyes for a moment as your equilibrium falters and you sway slightly where you stand.

   The healing has weakened you and he has no food to offer you this time, so he can only hope that time will help you regain at least some strength.

   “You were, and I wonder if that’s why it happened. If you have some manner of built in defense whenever you’re unable to fight for your life.    Consider that you were also unconscious after I bit you, only to wake up completely healed just hours later, without any loss of energy, unlike the time that Lupus first attacked you. Although, on that occasion, not much of you escaped unharmed,” he recalls, which seems to remind you that the bat and butterfly had very nearly carved your kidneys out midflight a while ago.

   He lets go of you when you begin to examine yourself. Your clothes are in tatters, but as you shift the torn fabrics around, you find no gashes or exposed ribs. Just the same smooth skin Oberyn had caressed so lovingly the night before.

   “That’s right, you did it again,” he explains once you’ve stopped searching for damage, drawing your gaze back to him, except now with even more confusion in your brows, while he remains only impressed. “But this time, you also created a blinding light all by yourself, which scared Octopus away and allowed me to reach you.”

   “What are talking about? What light? And from where?”

   “I don’t know exactly, I had to close my eyes against it. Even in the darkness at the bottom of the sea, it was blinding.”

   Unexpectedly, hearing this brings tears to your eyes.    Oberyn would have thought hearing of such a powerful defense within yourself would bring you peace, as it has already proven effective against the spirits and might mean a chance for you to evade their murderous plans. But instead, you appear only to experience despair.

   “Why do you cry, my lady? You are capable of defending yourself against The Decem. Does this not comfort you?” he asks, feeling increasingly confused now, himself.

   Wrapping your arms around yourself, perhaps to keep your torn clothes from flapping in the wind, but more likely in attempt to hold your being together, your gaze drops to the ground and tension becomes visible in your shoulders.

   “I don’t know… what I am anymore,” you start, and while he wants to object, he holds his tongue and waits for you to speak your mind, as this is clearly affecting you deeply. “I’m not human or dragon, but then you tell me I might be this terrible thing, ready to turn all the world into darkness and pain.    And now you tell me I’m somehow full of a light so powerful that even the spirits can’t stand it?”

   You look up again now, and your gaze has grown even sadder. He feels as though you must be lost, wandering the world much as he did after his own initial transformation, looking for meaning or at least some explanation.    But as he has yet to find one for his own circumstance, even after six millennia, he has no answers to offer you.

   “Great…” you shrug, “So, what am I supposed to do with that? I don’t even know how to use it, I still have no idea how I can heal myself, or if the creatures were somehow set loose because of me.”

   “No, my love,” he finally interrupts, for this line of thinking must be stopped, lest you start digging your own grave with it. “The creatures are not your fault; of this I am certain.”

   “How?”

   “Simple: You are not a Darkling.”

   This conclusion seems to annoy you, and he can see why. For weeks now you have had no answers as to what has happened to you, while Oberyn has presented you with several possibilities, each one scarier than the next. At this point, you must be so tired of theories and fed up with worrying about things that are still completely beyond your control.    So, he must do what he can to help you understand where his sudden confidence on this matter comes from.

   “I have told you before that I’ve been skeptical of this diagnosis from the start, because of the radical differences between you and the only dark one I’ve seen before. Well, this light you possess is proof that I was correct.    A Darkling cannot bring light to the world, in any fashion. Once awakened, it is only capable of destruction.”

   A glimmer of hope sparks within your features then, and Oberyn suddenly realizes how absent such a feeling has been from your frame, ever since you learned of the creatures’ escape.    Surely, you cannot have taken on the blame for their mayhem solely on the notion that you could be a contributing factor, had you turned out to be the shadow-bringer.

   “But if that’s true, why are the spirits still hunting me?” you ponder then, and he must think on it for a moment.

   “Probably because they, like us, know of nothing else which can see them.”

   “So, even if there’s clear evidence to the contrary, they’re gonna keep coming after me?”

   “Most likely, yes,” he nods, and the hope once more falls away from your frame.

   You sink to your knees on the ground, letting your hands come to rest against your thighs, and he does not like how defeated it makes you look.    He’s always known your personality to be large. Not loud or brash, but the kind which fills a room simply by entering it. As if your soul is constantly attempting to eliminate emptiness.    He wonders sometimes if it comes from your childhood and your feelings of abandonment.

   “The Decem do not think as you or I do. They exist in the moment.    We can’t hope to convince them of your innocence, which leaves us with only one other option, and this is why I have brought us here.”

   “Alright,” you say, confirming that you are listening, even though your head remains tilted forward and your tone conveys only the mildest interest.

   “I believe that my own history might hold the key to understanding what you are. Because it can’t be coincidence that our lives have intersected, I cannot believe that something so pivotal happened by accident.”

   “Pivotal? To us or the world?”

   “Both. To my knowledge, we are the only two humanoids on this earth with supernatural abilities, and not only have we settled down on the same continent, but we each have been drawn to and frequented the same area around the Seven Hills for years, until we eventually crossed paths.    The odds against these chains of events, which began with my transformation right here, six thousand years ago, are astronomical, Valya.”

   “Okay, sure. But how does any of that help us now?” you question, turning your head to look out at the desolate landscape, still not meeting his eyes.

   “I don’t know that yet.”

   “And how exactly do you imagine that we’re gonna find any answers out here?” you challenge, throwing an arm out to gesture to the glaringly obvious lack of clues. “There’s nothing left of that time, Oberyn. The odd clay pot or stone tablet, sure, but I highly doubt we’re gonna happen upon the perfect find to help you piece together your past.    It doesn’t work that way.”

   Something in the way you say the final sentence makes irritation flare within him. Because while he does understand why you would be struggling with the notion of your own identity right now, it completely escapes his understanding that you would so strongly resist any possibility of finding answers.

   “Why are you so unwilling to believe in us?” he questions, and when you still show no sign of engaging with him, the malcontent grows within his chest. “Is it really so hard to fathom that there might be a reason we were brought together? That maybe it is our connection to each other which makes you capable of this incredible light, just as being with you has enabled me to see hope once more.”

   “I don’t see hope…” you admit then, and his anger quickly cools, because this is not the answer he was expecting. “My life was never truly good, I know that. But it was enough.    I never dreamed of adventures or bravery, of being the hero. I just wanted to live a simple life with my garden and my horse and maybe one day get to travel some.    This… the magic and mysticism and saving the world crap… I don’t want any of it.”

   Once you’ve fallen silent, you finally look up to meet his eyes, and he can see how deeply you believe in every word spoken. How you cannot be enthusiastic about any of this because none of what’s happened has been to your benefit.    Except…

   “Does this mean you don’t want me either?” he asks, tentative now that he suddenly cannot be certain the answer will be favorable to him.

   But the words could just as well have been a kick to your jaw. You hunch at the sound of them, falling in on yourself as though your heart has just pulled your chest with it while it plummets through you.    No words fall across your lips, merely the pained breath which is pushed out by the sudden contraction of your stomach, in revolt against the agony you suffer for his faulty assumption.    Relieved, but also ridden with guilt over his mistake, he kneels beside you and pulls you close.

   “Forgive me, my love. I know better than to say such things.”

   You let him hold you for a moment before you reach up to reciprocate, but once your arms are around his shoulders, your grip is firm. A confirmation of your feelings, strong and true, even though your world outside of this relationship has come to an abrupt, and painful, end.

-=<>=-=<>=-=<>=-

   He takes you on a slow stroll through the desert, hand in hand, while he searches for these answers which he seems unreasonably certain he’ll find here, despite being in the middle of fucking nowhere.    You don’t share his attitude for one very clear reason: whatever he might find is unlikely to mean good news for you.

   Since this whole thing started, aside from meeting Oberyn and falling in love with him, everything that’s happened has meant pain, loss and unwanted change for you, none of which you’re eager to continue experiencing.    Yes, the likelihood of you being a Darkling has significantly decreased, but you’re still no closer to a happy ending because of it. You’re still under attack and you may yet have to give your life to see an end to this conflict. Which is absolutely the very worst-case scenario, given how the dragon would likely react to losing you.

   You try not to think about that as he leads you further out onto the salt-flats, where the heat of the sun makes the plain ground look like liquid in the distance. But you’re still so caught up in your own thoughts that when he suddenly stops, it’s only his hand in yours which alerts you to the fact that he’s no longer moving.    Turning back to find out what’s caught his attention, you find him staring at the ground right at his feet, where there’s nothing of interest to be seen.

   “What is it?” you quietly ask, hoping you’re not interrupting him in the middle of rediscovering a lost memory.

   “I know this spot. This exact spot,” he slowly responds, and you step closer so that you can see his expression even though his head is bowed.

   You want to ask how he could possibly know where he even is when everything looks the same for miles and miles, but that won’t help anything.

   “Why? What happened here?” you ask instead, worried now as his face has begun to reveal a truly haunted image.

   “My nephew… this is where he was torn from his mother’s arms. This is where he was thrown to the ground, toyed with, and crushed under the feet of half a dozen tribesmen.    Barely a week old…” he says, whispering the last part.

   He didn’t remember this much before, and you’re afraid to disturb him now that he seems to be reliving those horrible moments, even though it clearly tortures him, so you remain silent and still beside him.

   “My sister screamed, begging for his life, trying to fight her way to him, but they kicked him between themselves as if he was a football, keeping him out of her reach.    His father and I ran to her and tried to intervene, but they stabbed him in the back, and when I attempted to fight in his stead, I was beaten with a club until my neck broke and I fell to the floor.”

   He’s crying now, shaking all over as if he’s freezing cold despite the heat of the sun above, and you hate to see him like this. The usual might of his shoulders no longer there, the stoic frame of his chest and seasoned wisdom in the set of his brow nowhere to be seen.    You want to help him, but what can you do? He came here because he wanted to understand his own past, and now this place seems to be giving him exactly what he wished for, so however much it hurts you to see it, you must let him suffer through this.    But you don’t have to let him do it alone.

   “I’m here, honey,” you whisper as you take his hands, so that even if he can’t hear you, he might still know you’re there. “I’m right here with you.”

   He doesn’t see you even though his eyes are wide open, but the moment your hands slip into his, he grips you firmly, as if he fears he might disappear into the memory without an anker in the present. And for all you know, there’s every chance he really could.

   “I’m lying face down on the floor, gasping for air, unable to move, but I can still hear them. The screams and the cries. And then just desperate wails as the child goes quiet.    God. He survived their sadistic game for so long…” he continues, but his voice breaks in the end, and he droops to his knees.

   You follow, crying as badly as he is at this unfathomable picture he’s painting for you, enabling you to experience it with him, so that you might have a chance to understand at least some of all this.    But then he flinches. Not hard enough to rock his entire body, but enough for you to know that something shocking just happened within the memory.

   “The light… it’s blinding… everywhere, all at once,” he breathes, while his gaze moves around, seeing something entirely other than the desert lands of your time. “It doesn’t burn at first, it just makes everyone stop and cover their eyes.    But I can’t. I can’t move, not even to close my eyes, but I can see… through the light.”

   His eyes move quickly over the desert, as if he’s searching for something, and then they stop. He stares at a fixed point behind you, over your right shoulder, and you wish you could see whatever it is that he does.

   “What is it, honey? What did you see in the light?” you ask when he doesn’t continue.

   You expect him to say that he saw the other dragon, the one who presumably died by giving Oberyn the fire, but he doesn’t answer you at all.    His expression quickly shifts from despair into something more like awe, and for a second, you can swear you see some kind of figure reflected in the wetness of his eyes. But then he blinks, and it’s gone, before he closes his eyes and somehow you know that the memory is over and he’s back with you.

   “Hey, look at me,” you beckon, when he lets go of your hands and brings his palms up to rub his face. “What just happened? What was that?”

   You have to grab his wrists and pull his hands away from his face to get him to look at you, but again, his expression is not what you expect it to be. He doesn’t look haggard or pained by the experience he just had, instead he meets your worried gaze with what appears to be that same awe from before.    And yet, he doesn’t answer you.

   “Oberyn?” you try, and he does react to your voice this time, but by getting back on his feet and turning his back to you.

   He takes a few steps forward, putting his hands on his hips and exhaling hard a few times, and somehow, you get the feeling that this isn’t relief. More like he’s preparing to tell you something difficult.    You stand as well, starting to feel worried, and you’re just about to approach him when he sighs deeply.

   “It wasn’t a dragon that did this to me,” he says, and he sounds torn between sorrow and joy. “There was no other dragon.”

   “Then what was it? What changed you?”

   Another deep breath passes through him before he turns around, and once he does, you feel like you already know the answer. As if your body can sense it from his before a single word has been spoken.

   “It was Lux. The spirit of Day.”

   The moment you hear that name, something passes through you. Not a feeling so much as a realization.

   Recognition.

   “Me…” you breathe, scarcely able to acknowledge the thought. “I… I did this to you.”

   He nods slowly, but his features reveal nothing of what he feels in that moment.

   “It was you, all this time,” he says, and there’s a softness to his voice which takes your mind to the solemnity of a church.

   To heavy subjects and grave implications, mixed with deep respect and reverence. But you can’t possibly be the reason why he would feel these things.

   “No, it can’t be. I remember my life, I’ve only lived for thirty odd years, how could I have been in ancient Egypt, it makes no sense!” you ramble, getting desperate now because this is too much to ingest.

   “I told you that no one has ever seen Day, that not even the spirits know who she is, and this explains it.”

   “No, it doesn’t! How does this explain anything?”

   He comes closer to you, and without meaning it, you recoil. Fear grips you at the idea that all his long years of solitude, agony and despair, could be your fault, and your body reacts. Although, whether to protect him or yourself, you’re not sure.    Noticing your fear and desperation, he stops, but worry seeps into his face then.

   “Don’t you see, Valya? The Latin word for day is Lux, which also means light, and light is everywhere, just at different times. You exist in all things and all places, which means you’re never just one person in one moment.”

   “If that were true, then why is the Night spirit a bat, and not capable of the same?”

   “Because light undoes dark. Yes, night falls upon each day, but only because the Earth turns away from the sun. Not because light no longer exists. All dark places, no matter how deep the blackness, are unveiled by light, and therefor, you are the most powerful of all spirits.    Yes, in your natural form you’re probably much the same as the others, beyond thoughts or reasoning, existing only in the moment and the feeling. But unlike them, you must be able to choose when you wish to be seen, and in which form, since light can be bent and manipulated into any shape.”

   Logically, it all makes sense, and you have no reason to believe that this man who has lived longer than any other, wouldn’t know what he was talking about. In fact, he’s probably the only one who even remotely understands these things. But you still resist.    Not for lack of memory of past events, but simply because you don’t want to be the one responsible for Oberyn’s pain.    He’s everything to you. Your light and purpose, your friend and confidant, your fucking soulmate.

   He tries to approach you again, and just like before you back away. You can’t help it, you’re too scared of unknowingly doing something damaging to him.    But this time, your rebuke saddens him, and you recall his question earlier. “Does this mean you don’t want me either?” Just hearing it had turned your insides into a pit of knives, and the memory brings the feeling back.

   “I may not know why you changed me, but now that I’m certain it was you, I can only believe you had some plan for me,” he says without a trace of accusation in his tone. “Something you sensed coming, important enough to create a being so strong it could burn down this whole world, should it be deemed unavoidable.    I know you, my love. Spirit or not, you would never willfully condemn anyone to an eternity of loneliness. And whatever else you might be, this person you chose to be born into is also you, and the life you’ve lived as a human is equally responsible for the character you’ve become. None of that is undone by the past.    You are still the woman I love, and you always will be.”

   Enchanted by his words, you’ve remained still while he’s crept closer to you, and when he falls silent, he’s suddenly only inches away.    Before you can recover, he steals a long and loving kiss, using the intimacy to snare you into his embrace where you can’t help but melt into him.

   From the first day you met his human form he’s been intoxicating to you, and maybe this does explain how that could be. Maybe you’ve loved him ever since he was an ordinary man. And if so, could you have filled him with light and made him so powerful as a way of protecting him?    Somehow that seems… excessive.    What you know with absolute certainty is that if something were to happen to him now, you would stop at nothing to save him. And since spirits are even deeper connected to their emotions than humans are, it is plausible you’ve always felt that way about him.

   But it’s such a strange thing to absorb when you have no recollection of being anything else, of living in any other time, and maybe there’s a reason for that. Possibly just that the spirit of Day isn’t supposed to have memories.    The problem is, you can’t help but think that what if the reason you can’t remember it, is because Oberyn is wrong and you’re something else entirely.

   Wishful thinking, perhaps, but is it really so farfetched?    The only way to know for sure is if you can figure out how to use your light, since that would be undeniable proof of your connection to Lux. But you don’t even know how to start.    Then something occurs to you, and you pull back to look at your man.

   “You said that light can be bent and manipulated into any form, right?”

   “Yes.”

   “Which means, theoretically, I could do that to any source of light, at will?”

   “As far as I understand it, yes. Where are you going with this?”

   “The spirits are made of light, aren’t they? So, is it possible… I mean, if I am Day… could I control all of them?”

   His eyebrows shoot up at that, so clearly this is something he hasn’t considered.

   “It makes even more sense than you realize, my dear. That’s likely the very reason why Day is never seen.”

   “Because she’s already there, within all the others, like a natural piece of them.    I mean, I am,” you correct yourself, trying to taste the words in the hopes that they’ll somehow start to feel right, but they just don’t. “Shit, this is so screwed up! How can I be her and not even know it?”

   “I think our biggest concern at the moment is rather the question of why you’ve come to exist in human form at all? What’s changed in the world to warrant such an extreme measure?”

   “Also, why can’t the other spirits tell that I’m one of them, and possibly even a part of them?”

   “A conundrum, indeed. However, now that we have learned what we can from this place, I think we’d best head back and resume our hunt for the creatures. Perhaps in doing so, you can uncover the secret to using your power.”

   “Let’s hope so, or this might be the shortest war in history.”

   He smiles at your attempt to relieve some of the drama, but probably also to offer you some encouragement, since he undoubtedly knows by now that when you joke about deadly serious stuff, it’s usually because you’re scared out of your mind.    You let him take a few steps away from you so he won’t knock you over with his transformation, but once he’s done, he doesn’t open his front paw to you.

   Instead, he lays down flat and places his front leg against his own side, like a stepping-stone. He wants you to ride on his shoulders, apparently no longer concerned about his hairs injuring you, and while you’re not sure if you’ll be safer hidden within his paws or free to move around on his back, you are curious about what riding a dragon would feel like. Probably nothing like riding a horse, but undoubtedly a thrilling sensation all the same.

   But when you step up to him and prepare to climb on, you notice something which hasn’t occurred to you before, and which makes you stop and frown while you try to remember if you’ve just been inattentive or if this has happened as incredibly fast as it appears.

   “Hey… you’re a lot bigger than before,” you observe, looking from his snout to your left, all the way down to his tail, curled up further away to your right, and then up towards the muscular arch of his back and the two massive joints connecting it to the wings.

   He watches you measure him, and there’s confusion in his golden eyes, so you attempt to elaborate.

   “The first time I watched you transform; I figured you were about eight feet tall from the base of your chest to the top of your shoulders. But now, I’d say you’re more like twice that. Which, incidentally, means there’s no way I can climb up from here.”

   Still with a perplexed expression, he starts looking himself over and you watch as his confusion is slowly replaced with surprise, so clearly, this is something that’s happened without him noticing either.    There’s nothing to be done about it and frankly, it’s not really important right now either, so you move to his hindleg and use that to climb onto his lower back instead, and since you’re unaccustomed to the slippery surface of his scales, you crawl on all fours up to his shoulders.

   Once there, you make another strange discovery, in the form of a few bald patches of hair along his neck. Although, you decide not to tell him that. You’re not sure how important his looks are to him, but judging by how impeccably he manages his grooming, there’s every chance baldness would negatively affect him.    There was no indication of his human form being similarly affected, so hopefully this is just a result of his recent skirmishes with the spirits.

   He waits until he feels you settle in and find your balance before he opens his wings and starts to walk around on the ground for a bit, just flapping a few times to let you feel his movements.    It’s difficult to describe just how strong he feels. You imagine that compared to a horse, sitting on an elephant must be like going from a go-cart to a formula one car, in terms of power. But using the same comparison, Oberyn would be like a space shuttle.

   And when he starts running against the wind to give you a softer liftoff than if he just jumps and pushes up, in some ways, it really does feel like he’s about to launch you into space.    It’s a completely different experience from his back.    Once he’s off the ground and the windspeed picks up, you have to lay down as flat against his neck as you can, to avoid getting pushed off by it. But surprisingly, you have no trouble staying put when he turns and maneuvers through the air.

   The Atlantic seems to spread out underneath you in no time at all, so he’s not cruising along, and yet, you don’t feel as though you’re moving all that fast.    Until there’s suddenly a loud bang, and it takes you a second to grasp that it was the sonic boom of the dragon breaking the sound barrier.    You know enough about speed to understand that you shouldn’t be able to breathe if he’s flying that fast, so he must somehow also control the airflow around his body to keep you from suffocating.

   In any case, it doesn’t take long before you begin to see land ahead. But if it’s the North American east coast, then someone’s done a real number on it.    He slows down and drops lower as you glide in over land, and as far as you can see in all directions the ground looks similar to how it would if a wildfire had raged over it for days. But the trees and grass aren’t dead. Instead, they look like they’ve mutated into something you might’ve expected to see grow out of crude oil.

   The tree trunks are black and somehow slimy, and their branches look like snakes covered in needles, just waiting for something living to walk by close enough for them to strike. The grass, meanwhile, resembles thick earthworms attempting to crawl out of the soil but being too deeply embedded in the ground to break free, tangling with one another in their efforts.    Bushes and shrubs could just as well be some manner of horridly overgrown stick insects, actual insects have become at least ten times their normal size and overall nightmarish, and even rocks are oozing black goo and moving around, like halfdead trolls.

   “This is what you talked about, isn’t it?” you guess once he’s set down some twenty miles inland, in the middle of a large clearing, and he nods once in confirmation which makes your stomach drop. “So, there is a Darkling at work.    But if it isn’t me then… who?”

   Just as you’ve said it, there’s a delighted laughter coming from what used to be woods to your left, and when you seek out the source, you’re rocked to your core to find Simon walking through the disfigured woods.

   “You never really believed that it could be you, did you? Miss Pretty Little Loner. Hah! As if you could ever command this level of dark power.”

   He looks exactly the same, save for the small detail that his feet are somehow joined with the wormlike grass, almost as if he’s grown out of it. And when he walks, there are no feet at the base of his legs, the worms just sort of… tear out of the ground when he lifts one leg, and then rejoins it when he finishes the movement.

   “Oh, my god. So, Caelum was drawn to a dark presence at the Thanksgiving party, and when she noticed that I could see her, she assumed it had to be me,” you ponder, finally beginning to understand how all the pieces of this puzzle fit together.

   “Bingo. And you actually bought it, you dumb bitch,” Simon snickers, obviously delighted that he’s managed to fool you all this time.

   Suddenly his odd behavior that day, as well as his persistent attempts to keep you away from Oberyn, slip perfectly into place. He’s known all along what you are, and to him, it was apparently great fun to watch you fumble in the dark.

   The dragon growls in warning, probably objecting to the name-calling more than anything, but you’re more concerned with the sudden absence of the spirits.    Surely, they must’ve felt the presence of all this darkness being born and multiplying in record pace, so why aren’t they here, fighting it? They certainly never wasted any time trying to take you out.

   “Oberyn, where are The Decem? Shouldn’t they be here already?” you whisper, low enough that Si can’t hear it from his position at the edge of the clearing.

   But the beast can’t speak, so even if he does know the answer, he can’t tell you. And he’s not gonna risk returning to his human form when there’s a fully developed Darkling next to him.    You’re gonna have to try and work this out on your own.

   “Aren’t the spirits supposed to be able to sense you? How have you kept them off your scent all this time?” you ask Simon, hoping that his ego will enjoy the opportunity to brag.

   “Well, you’re a fool if you think that evolution only happens to creatures of the day.    Did the beast never tell you what happened to the last Darkling? I mean, sheesh… no way I was gonna go out like that. So, I figured out how to develop the dark power without actually using it, ergo, no trail for the spirits to follow.”

   “And I suppose this is where you want me to congratulate you on your amazing genius?”

   “It wouldn’t hurt. I mean, I have done something unprecedented in all of time. Kind of a big deal in certain circles.”

   “So, that’s it? You’ll just cover the world in darkness and then live happily ever after?” you sneer, because it genuinely seems so stupid.

   “Sounds about right.”

   “And when everything’s dead or corrupted beyond redemption, what then? What’s the almighty Simon Truxly gonna do for fun once the world is done ending?”

   “You’re not paying attention, sweetheart. I told you, even darkness evolves. The world will end, you’re right about that, but there’ll still be living things to torture for all eternity,” he happily chirps, leaving no doubts regarding just how rotten he must be inside.

   “Not if we stop you.”

   “Ah, yes. The omnipotent Lux and her pet.    I’m sure you felt me coming even back then, that’s probably why you made that thing. Because to a being which exists outside of time, even things thousands of years away from happening are an imminent threat.    And of course, you needed him to be well under control by the time I sprang to life, or the world would’ve gone to shit no matter what,” he snickers, but you find nothing amusing about the picture he’s painting.

   Because you can see it. You can very vividly imagine what it would look like if a completely undisciplined dragon went to war with a mature Darkling. Especially if there were no spirits around to help.    Where are they?

   “I’m not gonna let you do it, Si. If you know me at all, you know I don’t stand idly by when bad things happen. And if you were truly so nonchalant about my power then you wouldn’t be wasting all this time trying to convince me that I can’t beat you.”

   As cocky as you’re being, you’re also wondering just when you hopped onboard the “I’m a spirit”-train. Because while you’re beginning to hope it’s true, you’re still not convinced that you really are Day.

   “I bet he told you that light will always undo darkness, but that’s not true. Even physicists will agree with me there, not that it matters.    Bottom line: you’re not gonna beat me. Unlike you, I’ve been training, practicing, preparing all my life for this, while you still thought you were human just a few weeks ago.”

   “And unlike you, I don’t remember being anything but human, which is why I still value my humanity. It’s not weakness, it’s what makes everything worth the effort. If life was simply about journeying through pain and darkness, we would’ve seized to exist ages ago, and then who would you play this fucked up game with?” you challenge, and his expression sours.

   “Yeah, you’re right. I am wasting time, so let’s get to the fighting then, shall we.”

   Before he’s even finished that sentence, with a mere flick of his wrist, a giant root-system is wrought out of the ground. Hundreds of yards of seemingly sentient and malevolent tentacles, coming at you and Oberyn from all directions at lightning speed.    The dragon reacts at the first sign of movement, sending a large flame at the closest tangle of roots, which does destroy them. But there are so many of them.

   Simon has an arsenal unlike any other, because there are more trees on Earth than there are stars in the Milky Way, not to mention all the other plants, as well as animals, he can corrupt and command.    And what do you have?    Even now, when your life is threatened, you don’t know the answer to that question. No light flares from within, no hidden connections to the spirits are revealed.

   You have nothing. No weapons and no armor, except for the man and monster you love, who now fights for you with everything he is while you just sit there, holding on as best you can. But in the end, still helpless.

   Oberyn is fierce in this enraged state. His flame is about to reach the same level of destruction as what he’d awoken in Detroit, and he’s spewing it without pause all around the two of you. How he can do that without needing to breathe in between volleys is beyond your understanding, but what you do know is that despite his colossal effort, he isn’t winning.

   And then, amidst the fiery chaos, as if momentarily spellbound, your gaze is drawn away from the battle, towards something moving strangely slowly through the air.    It takes a second for you to figure out which distance this unknown featherlike thing is at, but once your focus aligns, you realize that what you’re looking at are bright green strands of hair. Lots of them.    Remembering the bald patches, you look down on the dragon’s neck, finding no part of the once thick mane intact.

   Shockingly, however, it quickly becomes a mere footnote on this day’s list of unexpected developments, because what you’re looking at is no longer the slick green rows of perfectly aligned scales on Oberyn’s alter ego. Instead, what’s underneath you now is at least ten times bigger, completely white with much larger, thicker, and rock-like scales.    The normal golden glow of his eyes has turned bright blue, and somehow, you know those eyes.

   You’ve seen this beast before, in another time.    He’s as old as you are. The first dragon, created by the clash of light and dark, long before any life had evolved in the galaxy. And back then, he’d been a creature of night, breaking the earth apart and reshaping it countless times over.    It was his anger and despair which had sent continents clashing together, creating mountain ranges and deep-sea trenches.

   For eons he’d raged, while you, a mere spirit with no other ability than to chase away shadows, had felt his agony and searched for a way to end it.    By the time you’d learned of the complete absence of light within him, he’d become so infested with hatred, you’d feared no light could ever penetrate his blackened heart.

   You’d gone to him anyway, formless, just a light hovering around his head, hoping for a moment of his focus. And you’d gotten only that. One moment. Just enough to show him.    But once he’d seen true light, brightness had taken hold of him and found a home within his chest, so strong it had turned his body white.    From that moment, no shadow, no matter how deep, could ever again sway him. And with that freedom, he’d chosen to give his strength, all his might and power… to you.

   “Tyrannus,” you hear yourself say as the memory leaves you, and you know exactly what it means.

   Tyrant. Oppressor. But it was also his name.    The name of the first beast to walk the Earth, who’s powers you have now bestowed upon the old prince.

Part 10

The Ten Spirits of the World Air - Forest - Water - Stone - Night - Autumn - Winter - Spring - Summer.

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#oberyn martell fanfiction #oberyn martell x female reader #oberyn x reader #au fic #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones au #modern au #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #halloween fic #spooky season fic #sirowsky stories

[nights-at-crystarium]

Fragments Friday but in text format this time.

A fitting moment to repost my chapter 1 cover separately, now that the ARR arc has wrapped up.

The last beat is this ficlet, G’raha pov, ~1k words. Angsty af, implied magical suicide. May cause pain and upsetti. Go in prepared, or don't go in at all. Don't act like I didn't warn you.

───── ⋆✧⋆ ───── "He doesn't have to linger. Just give the command, the spell will float him, sparing his body the damage it would otherwise receive from remaining inert for gods know how long, the artificial slumber wash over.

Forever."

Preparing for a catnap in the Crystal Tower, G'raha takes a moment to look back when he really, really shouldn't.

───── ⋆✧⋆ ─────

The humanly impossible amount of ancient knowledge churns in his head, comforting him so strangely. He knows what he's supposed to do, it's no more complicated than flipping a switch. He knows everything.

Except...

Does he ever wake up?

Is this really as brilliant as it seemed some minutes ago?

Generations will change, the Tower will stay intact, just as the public knowledge about it, and when that mythical Right Time comes, someone finds a way to rouse him.

He'll be fine.

Right?

His throat dries up. Somewhat out of place, a thought that he didn't even bother snatching a flask of water makes him crouch right where he stood.

"You'd better think of me. You'd better miss me."

No way the Warrior of Light was genuine. The time they've spent together, the kiss, it has to matter to him at least one little bit?

Of course it was bluff! Just a friendly jab. His own way of saying "well, screw you too" because he does care.

Right?

G'raha curls up. Hugs himself tight because, probably, most likely, you fool, no one else ever will.

He doesn't know Vivi as well as he believed. Vivi doesn't know him. This entire summer, this incredible, fleeting thing that made him feel like he's been hit over the head with something heavy, they wasted all of it on frolicking around. It was fun, yes... Nothing brings you so close together as swapping the contents of the salt and sugar jars just before dinner at Saint Coinach's. It was fun. Fun.

G'raha has never shown his other facets. What if Vivi merely followed suit?

Ah. Empty worries now.

"Goodbye, Warrior. Find someone better than me."

A coward and a liar.

His body finally unclenches from itself. He stands up and wanders around, pointlessly, for he's able to teleport anywhere at will now.

His new home, - not tomb, he yanks himself, - is spacious and quiet. There are rooms and passages hidden from anyone but him, the caretaker of this place. When he's ready, he'll go to a room called Umbilicus. He doesn't intend to wait until he's exhausted, but... Just a little longer.

The perfect Allagan creation patiently waits for its master.

G'raha ascends the massive winding stairs, slowing down to look around here and there. Fresh memories pester him like flies.

What's Vivi up to? Dining at the Seventh Heaven? Perhaps back home already. Or wherever his wondrous life takes him next. Oh what he wouldn't give to-

G'raha gives himself yet another mental shake and rubs his face.

"Alright, enough. Umbilicus."

He remains still.

The grandiose structures of blue and gold loom over him. Decorative spires point at him like weapons. Surfaces that are polished enough to serve as mirrors show that he looks exactly like he feels: tiny and frightened. He wants to point and laugh at the reflection, the sound that comes out of his throat startles him back into silence.

"I am doing this."

Fists clenched and eyes shut, he teleports.

And there it is. A small room, oddly soothing after the open space of the main hall.

He doesn't have to linger. Just give the command, the spell will float him, sparing his body the damage it would otherwise receive from remaining inert for gods know how long, the artificial slumber wash over.

Forever.

His chest feels tight again.

This's it.

"I chose this. This's my destiny. This's my destiny."

Destiny, what a silly word to love. It always felt like a glorious path one takes to find the ultimate fulfillment. To rise like a new star.

Now that he's on the other side of the sealed golden doors... It's more akin to a dark maw preparing for a feast. No fanfare, no laurels, no one to watch a fool willingly walking down a cliff.

He shouldn't think of it this way.

And why, of all seasons, must it have been...?

He won't descend to comparing the end of his tale - the end of this chapter of his tale - to something as sappy as the last day of summer.

He inhales slowly, deliberately, yet his breath hitches on the exhale.

He whimpers.

Fear, grief, regret, like mad dogs off the leash. G'raha lets them pounce and knock him off his feet. He may even scream without worrying about being heard.

- I would've loved a different life.

A croaking, not-his voice.

He stands in the middle of the room and cries grossly, loudly, like a lost child.

What does it take to be a hero?

Now he knows.

Everything.

It takes everything.

Could he have ignored the pull? Could he still open the doors, live with shame, but live?

Promises don't go well with possibilities.

All of his being protests this choice.

This's why, he belatedly nags himself, he rushed all those people out of the Tower.

Be faster than doubt.

He smears the still-flowing tears with an irritated, hurried motion.

There's a spark of rage, and he grasps at it with all he's got.  He only needs to reach out to the Tower in his mind, and so he does.

It responds instantly. A flawless link.

The aether around him concentrates, swirls and shimmers, gently lifting him in the air.

It's not cold and not warm either. It's right. He's suspended in the middle of the darkening room that begins to look like a sea of stars. The incomprehensible power and knowledge are coursing through him, for he's the heart of the Crystal Tower.

His recent outburst feels so distant now, although his cheeks are still wet. He smiles vaguely and closes his eyes.

"Goodnight, Eorzea."

───── ⋆✧⋆ ─────

Credit to this fic which inspired me to word-vomit my own version.

My AO3 is here if you wanna leave kudos or comment!

───── ⋆✧⋆ ─────

Note: "Promises don't go well with possibilities" is a thick hint at G'raha and Vivi parting ways, not having bonded that much in ARR, despite the intimacy of their gremlin moments. G'raha's all about promises and Vivi's chaotic nature is endless possibilities. I generally use this as their ship name.

#ffxiv #vivien rell #g'raha tia #wol x g'raha tia #wolgraha #ffxiv: fragments #fragment i: found and lost #fanfic #own: next lvl

[francesminos-tt]

Curious cat prompt: Joffron Valyrian wedding

Daeron arrived at his wedding in rags. The sun was just about to rise, a single ray of sunlight lifting the deep blue night sky like a groom lifting the veil of his bride. Daeron landed Tesserion on a large rock, jumped off the Blue Queen and ran down the hill to the small clearing near the shore. He didn’t have the time or chance to change into something regal, so he arrived at the ceremonial rock in his riding gear, black leather and deep forest green cloak, his silver hair wind-swept and his forehead covered in sweat and dirt.

Joffrey was already there. Daeron’s nephew, his bride, his omega-to-be. Joffrey looked no better than Daeron, his dark curls flying in the air like an untamed wild beast. His cheeks were flushed, from the run or the wedding, Daeron did not know.

“You are late.” Joffrey complained, brushing a strand of curls from his face.

“I come as quick as I can. It’s not easy sneaking Tesserion away from the Dragon Pit. I am sure mother has already found out my absence.” Daeron took Joffrey into his arms and kissed the omega’s lips. Despite his disheveled clothes, Joffrey looked incredibly beautiful, his eyes bright with excitement, his lips plump from nervous biting, his skin golden in the morning sun. Daeron inhaled deeply, the harsh scent of volcano, the saltness of the sea and the sweet herbal aroma of Joffrey’s pheromones making his head spin.

“Then we must do it quickly.” Joffrey said, “Before the castle awakes.”

“Daemon will have my head for this.” Daeron whispered, “He went to sleep last night and wakes up this morning to find his son married.”

“Are you afraid, Daeron the Daring?” Joffrey’s dark eyes looked straight into Daeron’s purple ones, “It’s not too late to call it off.”

“No.” Daeron cradled Joffrey’s cheek in his palm, “If I must die, I’d rather die your husband than your uncle.”

Joffrey smiled, his lips curling up as small wrinkles creeping up the corner of his eyes. Daeron always loved Joffrey’s smile, so bright, so pure, so careless, so warm, like dragon flames from Old Valyria itself. Daeron had heard of the red priests and priestesses worshiping the fire god, and now he understood why. He would happily surrender himself to Joffrey’s fire like a zealot.

“Come,” Joffrey led Daeron to the ceremonial rock, “I have prepared us something.”

There was a beautiful goblet on the rock’s surface, intricate carvings of a dragon holding a sword hugged the bowl.

“I stole it from grandfather’s vault.”

“You stole from the Seasnake’s vault?” Daeron almost laughed, but Joffrey seemed to be proud of himself.

“He has so many treasures that he won’t even notice.” Joffrey shrugged, “Have you brought the wine?”

“Of course.” Daeron retrieved a bottle from his cloak, “The finest Arbor Gold.”

Joffrey took the bottle from him and poured the contents into the goblet. Then he unbuttoned his shirt, taking off his necklace and handing it to Daeron.

“Here, the dragon glass. I sharpened it last night.”

Daeron looked down at the pointy dark crystal in his palm. He had never held a dragon glass in his hand before. The crystal was so dark that not even the sunlight could penetrate it. It reminded him of Joffrey’s eyes.

Daeron closed his fingers, feeling the coolness against his skin.

“Last chance, Daeron the Daring.” Joffrey said, “After you slice my lip, there is no going back.”

Daeron grabbed Joffrey’s wrist and pulled the omega to his chest. He pressed the cool crystal on Joffrey’s lower lip, the dark color contrasting the pink beautifully. Daeron didn’t give Joffrey another chance to speak. With a slight push, he embedded the sharpened edge of the dragon glass into the softness of Joffrey’s lip, beads of blood oozing out immediately.

Joffrey’s breath quickened, but he kept eye contact with Daeron the entire time. He looked so determined, like a warrior ready for battle.

Daeron handed the necklace back and Joffrey soon repeated Daeron’s actions, slicing the alpha’s lower lip open. Then, they intertwined their fingers together, keeping the dragon glass between their hands, letting the sharpened edge slicing open their palms. Their mixed blood dripped down from their fingers, their pulses synchronizing until their heartbeats became one.

“Wed me, take me as your omega, uncle.” Joffrey said, softly and firmly.

Daeron lifted his bloody finger and painted Joffrey’s forehead with his blood. The omega did the same to him.

“Gladly.” Daeron replied and pressed their lips together.

The kiss sealed their marriage pact. It was the sacred ceremony of Old Valyrian, an alpha and an omega exchanging vows and blood, making them husband and wife, forged in fire and blood, forever as one.

They drank from the same goblet afterwards, both of their lips swollen and bloody from the kiss. Joffrey laughed when Daeron drank up the last drop of wine from the goblet.

“It’s said that King Jaehaeys and Queen Alyssane wed on Dragonstone behind their mother’s back.” Joffrey said, an amused smile on his lips, “I wonder if they felt as excited as I am now after their wedding.”

Daeron couldn’t help but swept his new husband into his arms, lifting Joffrey off his feet and carrying him bridal style.

“Daeron!” Joffrey let out a surprised squeal.

“It’s husband now.” Daeron kissed Joffrey’s nose, his heart swell from pride and overflowing love for the boy in his arms. He felt powerful, fearless, on top of the world. He could conquer Dorne and all the free cities with Joffrey by his side.

“Then carry me back to the castle on your dragon, husband.” Joffrey wrapped his arms around Daeron’s neck, “Let us spread the good news.”

“As you wish, husband.” Daeron replied with a smile.

Daeron couldn’t be more in love now. He had found his missing piece. He was complete.

#house of the dragon #joffron #hotd #daeron x joffrey #joffrey velaryon #daeron the daring #abo dynamics #curiouscat archive