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loveinhawkins · 1 month

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”How do you do it?” Eddie asks.

The question slips out far too late at night, anxiety thrumming in his chest—he’s not escaped the feeling ever since the boathouse, when he simply couldn’t sleep, felt like a fox just waiting for hound dogs to get his scent, ready to run—

Steve doesn’t need him to explain further, as if he can somehow hear a whole lot of what Eddie’s not saying: like when he picked up the phone an hour ago and hadn’t even let Eddie tie himself in knots, had just said, so easily, “I’ll come get you,” like it wasn’t a huge inconvenience, like he’d been the one to call Eddie instead.

He’s considering Eddie from where he lies in bed, leaning on his elbow, and he’s still got the covers off pointedly—and that’s a big thing, Eddie thinks, a big thing he doesn’t know what to do with, because they’ve not talked, not really, not got much beyond the dizzying relief of still being alive.

But even fraught with profound lack of sleep, Eddie doesn’t think he’s misreading the look in Steve’s eyes.

I know, those eyes say, illuminated by the warm light of the bedside lamp. It’s okay, there’s no rush. I’m right here.

Eddie’s never seen that kind of look before. Not towards him.

“Sometimes Robin sleeps over,” Steve says thoughtfully. “And sometimes the kids are around, and they’re so annoying and I get, like, three hours, tops.” He says it with all the fondness in the world. “And sometimes I’m alone, and it’s fine.”

“What about the other times?” Eddie can’t help but whisper.

If it were a reasonable hour maybe he wouldn’t dare to ask at all, but exhaustion’s worn down the filter in his head—at this point it’s practically see-through.

Steve shrugs. “Yeah, they’re shit,” he says with such honesty that Eddie nearly asks it again, how do you do it?

“But then it’s, like, a new day,” Steve says slowly, like he’s carefully weighing up what to say, “and I can… drive.” The pause tells Eddie he means go to someone. “Or, like… call, if it’s really bad.”

Hey, I’m glad you called, man, Steve had said when Eddie got into his car earlier, like they were just going to the movies or something normal—like Eddie wasn’t shaking, forehead pressed against the passenger window.

Eddie feels his throat close up a little. Tries to sniff as quietly as possible.

“Eddie,” Steve says patiently. He moves back in the bed. Gives Eddie space. “C’mere.”

Steve keeps the lamp on which helps; this isn’t the boathouse, Eddie thinks, and the slightest bit of tension leaves his body. Even that feels like a miracle.

He’s just resigning himself to lying there, staring up at the ceiling so at least Steve can get some rest, when Steve turns and catches his eye, still wide awake.

“Tell me about The Lord of the Rings,” Steve says.

The tightness in Eddie’s chest loosens; he laughs in surprise. “What?”

“You heard me.”

Eddie turns so he’s facing Steve properly, attempts a casual shrug, knowing already that it’ll be too rigid. “I don’t know, man. We, uh. We kinda lived through Mordor already.”

His hand twists in the bedsheets, knuckles turning white.

I don’t know how to do this. I’ve never had…

Steve’s hand reaches across, eases Eddie’s grip on the sheets, like he’s saying, neither did I. Just give it a shot.

“The shire, then,” Steve says.

Eddie smiles. “Steve Harrington,” he says, suddenly finding enough lightness to tease; he’s missed it. “Are you asking me for a bedtime story?”

“Nope,” Steve says. “We’re just gonna lie here and talk.”

And they do.

Steve asks questions which works out for the best—Eddie can’t quite remember the last time he read the books. To tell the truth, anything that happened before March often has a kind of fog over it.

He’s sure he’s dropped at least a couple of plot points somewhere along the way, but Steve never once complains that he’s not making sense, just gently prompts Eddie until… until…

“Mm, I know what you’re doing,” Eddie mumbles through a yawn that catches him unawares.

“Oh, do you now?” Steve says, sounding smug. God, Eddie loves him. “Is it working?”

“Maybe.” Eddie says. His eyelids are heavy. “Um.” He yawns again. “Where… where was I?”

“Don’t worry about it, man,” Steve says. It sounds like he’s smiling—Eddie would check, but it’s suddenly impossible to keep his eyes open.

It’s okay, he thinks hazily, melting into sleep without even thinking about it. He can ask Steve in the morning.

There’s no rush.

#on struggling with the aftermath #the trust in falling asleep in front of someone ❤️#this may have a second part #a lil anxiety soothing stuff ❤️#pre steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson

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mooshywrites · 27 days

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Falling asleep on their laps

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Masterlist

Art commissions

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Astarion ~

As the silky fabric draped over your body, Astarion couldn't help but marvel at the peaceful expression on your face. The gentle rise and fall of your chest as you breathed in the night air, the soft hush of your breath against his thigh - it was quite the calming scene.

The fire crackled nearby, casting dancing shadows that played across your features like fleeting whispers of a dream. Astarion's fingers twitched with the urge to reach for his needle and thread, to continue his meticulous work on a new garment he was creating. Yet, he dared not move a muscle, fearing that the slightest disturbance might rouse you from your nap.

He sighed in frustration, feeling like a prisoner under your touch. How was it that he, what he would consider to be quite the dangerous person, be so afraid of rousing you from your sleep?

Astarion glanced down at you, marveling once more at how serene your expression was. It was almost unfair how effortlessly you had him wrapped around your finger.

With a resigned huff, he turned his attention back to the crackling fire. The flames seemed to mock with their freedom, flickering and leaping without a care in the world. Astarion couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy - oh, to be as unrestrained as fire. But as he glanced back at you, he remembered why he endured this minor inconvenience with a begrudging fondness.

“Truly,” he muttered under his breath, “the sacrifices I make for love.”

Halsin ~

You didn’t even realize you were drifting off to sleep on Halsin’s lap until your vision had completely darkened, your dreams carrying you away. Halsin gazed down at you with a mixture of concern and amusement, unsure of how to maneuver without waking you from your blissful nap. Slowly and carefully, he attempted to lift you up from his lap, his muscles tense with the effort of trying not to disturb your sleep.

With a sudden jolt, you let out a soft snore, making Halsin freeze in his tracks, his eyes widening in surprise. He held his breath, hoping beyond hope that you wouldn’t awaken from his blunder. As he continued to gently shift your weight in his arms, he couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation.

After what felt like an eternity of careful maneuvering, Halsin finally managed to bring you to a softer patch of moss nearby. With a triumphant grin, he gingerly laid you down on the cushiony surface, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear with tenderness.

Halsin watched as your eyebrows furrowed, your sleepy expression seemingly tense. Suddenly, your hand shot out from under the blanket, reaching for him in your sleep. Your fingers brushed against his shirt sleeve and clung to it, pulling Halsin towards you with a force that surprised him. His eyes widened as he was pulled forward, watching as you sighed in contentment now that he was closer.

“Not to worry, little duck,” he chuckled, pulling you into his arms, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Gale ~

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you settled against Gale’s chest, the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing along with his voice against you pulling you into a peaceful slumber.

Gale, with the worn, dog-eared book in his hands, looked down at you. His eyes softened at the sight of your resting so happily against him, your head nestled comfortably in the crook of his arm. He let his fingertips gently trace the contours of your face, from your closed eyes and their fluttering lashes to your slightly parted lips.

Gale’s brow creased as he saw you shiver softly, your arms shifting against him further to steal some of his warmth. His heart twinged seeing you in such a state; he wanted to fetch you a blanket himself, but feared even the lightest movement would disturb your sleep. After a moment of thinking, a vague idea formed in his mind. He extended a hand, the air trembling ever so slightly as magic sparked alive at his fingertips.

An incantation whispered under his breath brought forth his mage hand, spectral and blue. He guided it carefully, directing it towards the plush blanket resting on the other side of the room. It moved soundlessly through the air, returning to Gale’s side with its precious cargo. With one more soft command, the mage hand spread the blanket over you delicately.

Gale shifted slightly, smiling as you relaxed under the new warmth. His attention returned to the book, finding his place on the page.

“Anyways, my darling,” he murmured happily, “where were we.”

Wyll ~

The fire crackled merrily in the hearth, casting a warm orange glow upon the dimly lit study. Wyll, deep in concentration, pored over the building plans and scrolls strewn across his desk, his brow furrowed as he consulted one plan after another. Beside him, you yawned sleepily, your eyelids drooping as you rested against him. You tried valiantly to remain awake, curious about the plans that would shape your future home, but the lullaby of the fire and the late hour were proving too much to resist.

Wyll glanced up from his notes and landed on your sleeping form, smiling softly.

“I suppose these can wait until morning,” he whispered, gently gathering up the papers. Strong arms scooped you up from the chair effortlessly, carrying you across the room as if you weighed no more than a feather.

He settled you carefully into the large four-poster bed that dominated one corner of the room. The velvety soft blankets enveloped you in a cocoon of warmth as Wyll slid in beside you. His arms encircled you, pulling ou close against his broad chest. You nestled into him, breathing in the comforting scent of pine and leather.

“A nap is a wonderful plan, my love,” he teased, pressing a kiss against your forehead quietly, “I should’ve thought of it myself.”

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

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edenavari · 3 months

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On the Matter of Mirrors

Eddie is still trying to convince Steve he and Nancy are made for each other. It comes up, like, everytime they hang out, which is all the time, because Steve couldn’t stay away if he wanted to. He doesn’t, but he also wishes Eddie would quit trying to set him up with someone else.

‘Cause, like, here’s the thing. Steve likes girls. He also, he realized sometime after Robin came out to him, quite likes boys. He likes Eddie. Like… Really likes him. Practices pick-up lines in front of the mirror kind of like. Wears a little more black and tousles his hair just right to give himself a subversive edge he never used to have, just the right amount to trigger a subconscious response without appearing to be tweaking his fashion sense at all. Has mastered the art of wearing eyeliner without looking like he’s wearing it, and it took him a fucking while to work up the nerve to go out like that, not that anyone but Robin noticed.

But Eddie just will not drop the Nancy case, no matter how many times Steve tries to stir the conversation away from her, and between his budding crush and the crushing fear that it’s never gonna be anything but one-sided, between the slightest of sore spots Steve still sports about the way things with Nancy ended in the first place and the bitter edge of never managing for something to start with Eddie after weeks of efforts, it’s beginning to grate, right?

“So what’s the problem?” Eddie insists, bounding circles around Steve like an eager puppy, and something in Steve’s ribcage snaps.

They’re in Steve’s room studying when it comes up once a-fucking-gain. Eddie is taking accelerated summer classes so he can finally graduate by September, and by some inexplicable fuckery of fate, despite Steve’s own dirt poor records, he’s turning out to be a decent tutor. Something about Eddie managing to focus in a way a classroom environment never allowed him to. Maybe because most teachers and over half the student body were openly hostile at worst and aggressively ignoring Eddie at best, all because of his last name or his tattoos or his loud brassy cheek.

All the same, Eddie does get distracted fairly easily, and an hour in, he’s bounced off the bed and started rattling reasons Nancy Wheeler is definitely Steve Harrington’s soulmate. Steve groans noncommittally, gets up to grab his water from the desk and takes a long swallow as Eddie keeps needling him.

“You’re the problem, Eddie,” he all but snarls, when he really meant it to come out exasperated at worst.

He snarls, though, and Eddie stiffens, his eyes going cold and hurt and the corner of his mouth turned down in anger.

“Right,” he says, and it sounds so casual Steve thinks he won’t make a big deal of his tone after all. Fool’s hope. “I’ll get out of your perfect hair, then,” Eddie spits out as he makes for the door, only Steve stands in his way, hands up in surrender.

“Wait, I didn’t mean it like that,” he starts.

“No, you’re right, it’s none of my business,” Eddie interrupts, but he steps back, gesturing wildly as he speaks. “It’s not like we’re even friends, you just got saddled with me because of Dustin. We saved the world together? Big deal! My involvement was incidental, really, more of an inconvenience than any kind of help. Why would you want my opinion, of all people’s, right? Even by this point. Get out of my way, I’ll quit stepping on your toes. Go on!”

“I don’t want you to go, Eddie,” Steve tries again.

“Just want me to shut up, is that it? Not really my strong suit, you might have noticed.”

Steve can’t help smiling. “I have noticed.”

It only seems to rile Eddie up even more, throwing his hands out and making to step around Steve again. “Man, what do you want from me?”

“Is this allowed?” he breathes out, extending the last word beyond its scope.

Which puts him within reaching distance of Steve, who grabs him by the lapels of his jacket and presses him, careful not to jostle him too bad but firm enough to counter his manic strength, against the wall. He doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything, just presses a touch too close, lets himself imagine that he’s going to close the distance entirely, cocks his head and licks his lips and hangs there in a way he hopes spells it out for Eddie without inducing any kind of panic.

Eddie, hands still up at shoulder height, lets out a little huff close to a whimper when his back hits the wall, bracing himself for a hit that would never come, and maybe some part of him knows this, because he doesn’t look scared or angry anymore, just kind of confused with a side of grief, and it doesn’t take two seconds for him to start to look intrigued, maybe even, if Steve allows himself a little optimism, interested.

His lips part on a sharp inhale, and they’re close enough to smell each other’s skin, and Eddie’s eyes drop to Steve’s mouth, a little watery and out of focus, edging forward in a way that could just be a twitch, just a consequence of holding his breath the way he is, plausibly deniable, subconscious no doubt, only when Steve mirrors the movement, he does it again, gaze moving up and down from Steve’s eyes to his lips and back and back again without blinking, until twitch by twitch their noses graze and their mouths connect and Steve closes his eyes and concentrates on maintaining that seal over Eddie’s plush, pliable pout, because if he didn’t focus, he’d be way, way overeager for a first kiss.

He moves back after several seconds with a shaky exhale, swallows as he finds Eddie’s eyes again. His blood is thrumming in his fingertips, somehow he feels both cold between his shoulder blades and warm down to his toes, and if Eddie looks at all put out he thinks he might never manage another mirror in his life.

The look on Eddie’s face is pure disbelief.

Steve shrugs, not quite settled on the matter of mirrors. “I thought you made a point of breaking the rules?”

A glint starts to wake in Eddie’s eye that’s looking more delighted by the minute.

“Just as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone.”

“We’re in the clear, then,” Steve whispers, leaning in, just a smidge.

Both of Eddie’s hands sink into his hair as he pulls him into another, much steamier, kiss. Steve lets his fists fall from Eddie’s lapels and knot over his back instead, lets his mouth drop slightly open, an invitation Eddie wastes not a second to follow through on, teeth scraping and back arching like he wants to sink all the way into Steve, and by the time they’re parting, breathless, cheeks flushed, mouths stinging, Steve’s one hand is braced against the wall, holding himself up, knees too weak to do the job on their own.

“I thought you could barely stand me,” Eddie heaves.

“I can’t,” Steve admits. “You drive me nuts. Just not how you thought.”

Eddie frowns, suddenly serious.

“You should forget all about Nancy.”

Steve frowns too. “That so?”

“Hm-mm. She’s taken, man. And not all that. You need to move on.”

“Damn,” Steve sighs. “Am I being desperate?”

“Pathetic,” Eddie nods, barely a whisper against Steve’s lips, and they break into smiles in tandem. “Forget all about her,” Eddie repeats.

“Who?” Is the last word Steve gets out. Then he’s busy enough he really does forget.

When he fixes his hair in the bathroom mirror in the morning, he walks away with a wink.

Give us a kudos, if ye dare x

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #steddie oneshot #first kiss

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forever-rogue · 1 year

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can I request a Joel Miller x reader fic where she's in love with him but is convinced he would never have feelings for her too as she's younger than him and shy and quiet but maybe all gets revealed (however you want to do that) 👉👈 super fluffy but put some angst in there too if you wish 🥰

AN | Okay, but I love this so much ❤️

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 2.3k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

People always seemed to call you shy.

And you were you supposed, in your own way. It had a lot of perks when you really thought about it, and one of the main benefits happened to be that people often seemed to leave you to your own devices.

You liked that you had the ability to watch and observe people without question. There was a lot that could be learned when people thought they weren’t being watched.

And one of your favorite people to study happened to be Joel Miller.

He was a quiet man and often kept to himself more than anything, but there was still a lot to be gleaned from him. He was resourceful and smart, kind and friendly but not in an overbearing way, and generally…the object of your affections. Not that you would ever admit that to anyone else. You’d never said those words out all loud - and never would. No, that was a secret you would take to the grave.

You were he probably already knew - you felt like a pathetic, rambling fool around him. He managed to erase every sensible thought in your head and the ability to form any coherent sentences. Instead you fumbled over your words, feeling warm and anxious…so you usually tried to avoid him as much as you. Sometimes it worked, but other times it seemed like he managed to find you or be in the same spot as you at every conceivable moment.

It sucked. You were sure that one day you’d accidentally spill the beans or somehow give away that fact you were desperately in love with him. As long as you managed to keep your guard up, you were sure that it would all be fine. All you had to do was avoid him for the rest of your life.

How hard could that be?

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Hey,” that familiar gruff cut through your internal monologue as you gasped in surprise and almost dropped at the stuff in your arms. You turned around to him Joel watched you with a bemused expression on his face, “you alright? Didn’t mean to scare you, kid.”

Kid. You hated when he called you that. It made you feel like you were nothing in his eyes. Just a mere inconvenience. A kid that happened to be in his way.

“‘s alright,” you mumbled, righting the basket in your arms as you turned back to the vegetables and fruits you were tending to, “didn’t hear you is all.”

“Didn’t hear me,” he chuckled, the sound warm and familiar as it made the butterflies in your stomach flutter like crazy, “I don’t think I was being quiet in the slightest. Must have been awfully focused on whatever is going on in that pretty little head.”

You froze, eyes widening at his words, but continued to pick the fresh vegetables. You were so thankful that your back was to him as you tried to shrug him off. Otherwise he might have sensed just how flushed your face was and the lovesick expression on your face.

You. You, you, you.

"Nothing," you lied through gritted teeth, attempting in vain to slow down the beating of your heart and higher octave of your voice, "just thinking about what new things to plant once the season changes."

"And what did you decide?" Oh yeah. He was totally calling your bluff.

"About what?"

"The vegetables?"

"Oh…umm…cucumbers?"

"That's a summer vegetable," you cringed as he made a small sound of amusement. Did the man really have to know everything? You remained silent but could hear him shift, "last time I checked its almost winter."

"Well," you make quick work of gathering the rest of your veggies and placing them gently into the basket, "I guess I'll figure it out later."

You stood up and quickly turned on your heel to leave, rushing to get away and put this whole situation behind. You felt his fingers wrap around your wrist and gently hold you back. When you met his eyes, you noticed the little smile on his face, "everything alright?"

"Peachy," you lied as you gently pulled out of his grasp, "see you around, Joel."

"See you, Kid."

You hoped that maybe you'd never see him again and therefore avoid ever making a fool outside of yourself.

Unlikely.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“And just where do you think you’re going?” you almost jumped in surprise, a small sound of surprise escaping your lips before he clamped his hand over your mouth. He put a finger to his lips and shook his head. You relaxed slightly when you saw it was him. When he realized that you weren’t going to freak out he dropped his hand from your mouth.

“Joel!” you hissed at him, looking around to make sure no one had followed either of you, “what are you doing here?”

“The better question is what are you doing here?” he crossed his arms over his broad chest as he raised an eyebrow at you. You put an innocent smile on your face and shrugged, knowing you weren’t fooling him in the slightest.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“Are you asking me or telling me?” oh. He was loving this way too much already.

“Telling? Wait - no, telling you,” you huffed, annoyed with yourself for how nervous you suddenly felt, “I’m just…here.”

“Here,” he repeated as you nodded, “it looks like you were trying to sneak out of the safety of the QZ.”

“Ummm…” realistically there was no other thing you could have been doing in that particular location. You were both acutely aware of the truth of the situation, “I’m just hanging out.”

“Come on, Kid,” he reached up and brushed a few rogue strands of hair behind your ear, “I wasn’t born yesterday. I know you like to sneak out.”

“I don’t-”

“I don’t care that you do,” he dropped his voice to a whisper as you slowly swallowed thickly, “I care about the fact that it’s not safe.”

“You do it!”

“I can handle myself,” he insisted, putting his finger under your chin in order to turn your face up to his, “not that I don’t think you can. It’s different.”

“I don’t usually get into trouble,” you shrugged, “I just like getting out sometimes. It almost makes things feel normal sometimes.”

He regarded you for a few moments, inhaling deeply before exhaling slowly. Your heart skipped a few beats as you wondered if he would yell at you or get you in some sort of trouble, “let’s go.”

“I’m - wait. What?” your eyes widened in surprise when he definitely said the opposite of what you had expected, “go home?”

“Let’s go out,” he reached for your hand and gently took it in his before he started to tug you along towards the way out. You were rooted in place, staring at him incredulously. He laughed, the soft sound made butterflies explode in your tummy, “what?”

“You mean it?” you whispered as the smile on his face grew, “Joel?”

“Let’s go out in the world and get away for a little bit,” he insisted softly. A small part of you was convinced that this was all fake and that he was going to get you in trouble. But the larger part of you knew that Joel would never do just a thing. And the tender look in his eyes solidified that for you, “what do you say?”

“Yes,” you agreed with a shy smile and fervent nod, “let’s go.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You should tell him, you know,” Lizzy nudged your side with your elbow and despite the serious look you were attempting to keep on your face, you giggled lightly. You ignored her comment as you turned back your attention towards the sky, as you studied the big, fat fluffy clouds.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you huffed, trying to tune out the way she looked at you with a coquettish little smirk, “busy Lizzy, mind your own business!”

“You’re my best friend,” she reminded you, causing you to grumble at her, but it was all laced with affection, “I’m a part of your life and I’m just trying to get you in the right direction.”

“There is no right or wrong direction,” you groaned, hiding your face in your hands, “there’s nothing there, Lizzy. I’m just a dumb kid with a big, fat crush and that’s all it’ll ever be. Can we drop it?”

“You’re so blind! It’s so obvious that he feels the same,” you loved Lizzy, and her tenacity was one of her amazing qualities. But right now it just felt so…overwhelming. You blinked back the tears that had threatened to well up and shook your head, “sweetheart-”

“Lizzy,” you put your hand on her arm and gave it a squeeze, “Joel doesn’t like me like that. I’m just a kid to him and that’s all I’ll ever be, and that’s okay. I’ll get over it…one day.”

“You’re so blind!” she was laughing, and despite the sound being so lovely and soft, your heart constricted in your chest. Before she could open her mouth to say anything else, you heard a loud throat clear from behind you. The two of you sat up in surprise, turning your attention towards the door to the roof.

Fuck. Of course. Of course Joel Miller had to choose the perfect time to make an appearance. Lizzy had a huge grin on her face as she jumped up from the blanket you’d been lying on you. You looked at her in desperation as she practically skipped over to Joel and past him, smiling sweetly at the older man.

In your anxious state you held up your hand in a meek little wave. Joel chuckled softly before making his way over to you. Without waiting for an invite, he sat down next to you, his thigh pressed against yours.

“You heard all of that, didn’t you?” your entire body was warm and you almost wished that something would have popped up to create a distraction. Not like fully on clicker distraction, but something. You keep your gaze trained anywhere but him as embarrassment washed over you.

“I did,” he admitted as you groaned internally. You could practically feel his pretty brown eyes focused on, but you weren’t ready to die of humiliation just yet.

“Of course,” you nodded in annoyance, at yourself more than anything. You groaned before letting out a small huff. You finally managed to turn your face towards him and to your surprise, he didn’t look mad or angry, “I’m umm…sorry. I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” it was a genuine question that caused you to shrug noncommittally, “the fact that I found out or for the feelings themself?”

“Both, I guess,” maybe the ground could open up and swallow you whole. That might be a nice change of pace, “m-mostly the fact that you found out.”

“So you’re not sorry for the feelings?”

“Can’t really help your feelings, can you?”

“No,” he agreed, shooting a curious little look, “I guess you can’t.”

“I hope this doesn’t make things awkward,” you whispered, “I try to stay away from you, but I swear you always seem to pop up out of nowhere. It always feels like the universe is laughing at me.”

“Almost like it wasn’t a coincidence at all…”

“I guess you’re….wait,” you turned your attention to him, allowing yourself to look at the man in question, “not a coincidence? What do you mean?”

“You’re a smart girl,” he praised and oh. If you didn’t enjoy being praised before, you sure did now, “you can put two and two together.”

“I….Joel-”

“Lizzy wasn’t as far off as you think she was,” he stated it so simply like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Your mouth dropped open as you stared at him, waiting for him to drop the just kidding bomb. He put his finger under your chin and gently closed your mouth, “is it really that hard to believe?”

“N-no,” you admitted softly, “I guess not. Just…are you sure? Me? Why…I don’t get it. Why me?”

“Don’t do that,” he insisted firmly, “the self doubt - there’s no reason for it.”

“I’m just…me.”

“Exactly,” he answered, leaving no room for any sort of back-talk, “you’re not just some kid or just a nobody. Not to me.”

“But I…I-”

He rested his hand on your neck, his thumb gently brushing along your soft skin, “I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”

“Oh. Oh,” your eyes widened for a moment before you felt the soft press of his lips against yours. It wasn’t much of a kiss, more of a soft brushing of lips, both of you testing the waters. When he pulled back, you found him watching you with a soft expression on his face, “that was…you kissed me.”

“I did,” he echoed his words from earlier, “and I’d like to do it again if you’re okay with it.”

“Yes,” you smiled shyly at him, “I’d like that a lot.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” and he was kissing you again, like the two of you had been doing this for a long time, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Maybe you weren’t just some dumb kid after all.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader

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fuck-hamas-go-israel · 5 months

Text

Hamas is a heinous, murderous, vile terrorist group that’s intent on killing Jews.

But you can’t say they haven’t been honest about their intentions. Their manifesto, the interviews they’ve given, and the way they try to brainwash children through schools and media content have all been quite blatant in showing their modus operandi.

However, despite their very brutal honesty, why do Hamas-sympathisers try so hard to make Hamas look like good guys by defending literal crimes in the most insane ways?

It’s worrying and also shocking as these hypocrisies are such common sentiments coming from college campuses, which were once institutions that honed critical thinking.

Do they think that “kill all Jews” is a code phrase for “we want our territory back”? How do you possibly interpret open calls for the annihilation of Jews in any other way than what it is?

Do they not think that kidnapping women, raping and torturing them, and parading their naked, mutilated bodies around town to sexually humiliate them while men cheer is sexual violence against women? Isn’t this a feminist issue, part of the MeToo movement?

“Think about the children!” Yes, but when babies are beheaded and burned, when 4 year olds are kidnapped and orphaned, is claiming that these are AI-generated images and ripping down the posters of the hostages thinking of the children?

They cry out about war crimes but ignore that raping women and taking hostages are literally war crimes.

They scream to boycott companies for their ties to Israel using devices with technology designed in Israel. Will they give up their life’s pleasures because of their ties to Israel? My money is on no, because it’ll affect them personally and heaven forbid they take up activism that actually would inconvenience them in the slightest.

They claim to be experts in geopolitics after watching one TikTok video and claim that this is about territory and not antisemitism while also saying that Israelis can just “go back to whichever other country they also have citizenship in”. While turning a blind eye to the multiple antisemitic attacks around the world, and calling Israelis “white colonisers”.

They also claim to be champions of mental health awareness, experts in the psychological mechanisms of mental illnesses and take cautions to avoid triggers and micro-aggressions so as to not offend those who have psychological conditions. “We should let those who actually have these conditions speak up about their experiences!!”

But then when it comes to actual psychologically stressing situations like being kidnapped and taken hostage, they suddenly can speak for the hostages and know exactly what went on based on the most vacuous, flimsy evidence? “Oh she’s in love with her captor, she’s smiling at him! They’re smiling and waving, they must have been treated nicely by Hamas!”

How do they sleep at night with these competing ideologies in their heads? What do they achieve by making all these seem like the actions of good people?

They’re like Hamas’ PR team and defence attorneys rolled into one.

No matter what crime Hamas commits, they’ll come up with justifications and make it look like some kind of beneficent act of humanitarianism.

It’s so exhausting trying to reason with people who don’t see reason.

#i stand with israel #israel #palestine #gaza #am yisrael chai #pro israel #stop hamas #hamas #stop antisemitism #jewish #judaism #i’m so tired #how can people still deny that hamas is a terrorist organisation #free palestine from hamas

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subbypeterparker · 10 months

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Hear me out whiny!Ethan landry fic or headcannon

whiny!ethan landry headcannon

• he is perhaps the most vocal man you’ve ever met

• but you’d better be sure his whines and moans are music to your ears

• as uni students, you both spend enormous amounts of time on your individual classes, which can lead to time spent away from each other

“pleaseee will you touch me mommy (im sorry i had to slip it in), I promise I’ll make you feel so good, i swear”

you’re sitting cross cross on his bed, working intently on your laptop while he lays behind you, pressing soft kisses to your neck

and obviously him moaning and begging in your ear has you feeling some kind of way, but you really do need to focus

once he realizes he needs to wait a while until your attention can be on him, he gets a bit restless, and lets out a sigh of defeat as you continue typing away

• this man is actually such a slut for you, it’s insane he gets anything done since you two got together

• part of being whiny means ethan being so needy for you, no matter where he is

• even if it’s inconvenient for him to be touching you anywhere, he will beg and whine for you to let him, either until he gets to touch you, or until you punish him for being desperate

“please, please, let me eat your pussy…” “ethan, we’re in the library” “…no one’s around, and i won’t make any noises, i promise”

he’s always so eager to touch you, whenever and wherever he can. doesn’t even need to be sexual

“…sweetheart, you don’t always have to hold my hand,” you look down at your conjoined hands with a pointed look on your face. “i know, but i just want to be near you,” he practically pouts

will get pouty and whiny if you don’t let him touch you, and will act bratty until you let him

• i have to mention this man’s moans and whines

• as i’ve mentioned, he’s very vocal, and when he’s desperate for anything, it goes up 10x

he’ll practically be screaming in bed, especially when he’s close, and loses his breath quickly doing so

this results in the the lewdest and loudest whines and moans you have ever heard, and they’re truthfully enough to have your pussy throbbing

but oh. good. lord. when it comes to pegging, this man is extraordinarily vocal

with his back arching, ass pressing against you as he moans out and clenches around the strap, his poor brain can’t decide if it wants you to slow down, or speed up and wreck him

this conflict results in ethan just losing his ability to speak, and his brain turns numb and can only let out whines and whimpers for you

• he’s so big on being praised, and the slightest stroke on his face combined with a soft praise has him preening in your hands

• ethan landry has the BIGGEST praise kink known to man, and will beg and whine for more praises to poor from your mouth, no matter what you’re doing

he can truly cum just from you praising him, and he knows this, and begs for you to praise him, just so your voice can get him closer

• when he has to restrain himself (either from cumming or from touching you or himself), he starts to whine for your touch and your help

“fuck mommy please, i cant last much longer,” he’s been lying on your bed naked, watching you watch him as he falls apart while you touch yourself

he can feel himself getting closer without even touching himself as he watches you touch your pussy, whining out when you moan his name

• although he likes being praised, and as i’ve said, can get off solely on it, he’s big on being degraded

trust me when i tell you there is NOTHING like ethan sobbing and whining as you degrade him

although he knows he shouldn’t like it as much as he does when you call bim degrading names, he can’t help but moan out and whine for you to keep doing it

“baby look at you, nothing but a fucking whore for mommy, only here for my pleasure, huh?” your words make his back arch as he whines out broken cries and screams of “mommy!”, desperately holding on to any sanity he has

• he is such a simple minded teen boy, that anything to do with you has him whining and writhing just for you, and only you

• he truly is a slut for you, and holy shit, does he earn that title

————————————————————————

it is incredibly late after a long day, yet this writing was much needed, PLEASE keep the ethan requests coming!! 🫶🫶

#subbypeterparker #ethan landry #ethan landry smut #sub ethan landry #sub!ethan landry #scream smut #jack champion #jack champion smut

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grandeoatmilklatte · 3 months

Text

Catching Up 💍 (Ominis x F!MC Arranged Marriage)

This was a fic request by my darling friend @myrachondria ! Hope you enjoy it baby girl! ❤️

Warnings: Smut, NSFW, 18+ || Characters are over 18 || loss of v || oral || p in v || fingering || a very brief description of a noncon kiss that quickly becomes consensual! ||

Catching Up - Ominis Gaunt x F!MC Arranged Marriage || 3k words

Ominis Gaunt was never grateful to be born blind, but he did take advantage of his disability in this moment, as his cold, shaky hands took hold of his bride’s hands. He was glad he didn’t have to look her in the eyes as he listened to the officiant speak about how beautiful marriage was. The irony of this moment wasn’t lost on Ominis, as there was a time where he actually dreamt of this moment; but Ominis hadn’t had this dream in years.

Ominis’s bride; however, was born with sight, and thus tried her best to look at anything other than the man standing in front of her. She cursed the gods for playing this cruel joke on her - making her dreams come true, three years after she had given up on them altogether.

What once was a beautiful friendship that danced on the cusp of romance, was now a faded memory shared between two enemies.

They had been best friends since childhood, their wealthy families being very close. Although they were in different friend groups while at school, they still found time for each other. Eventually, they both found themselves fancying one another, these feelings reaching their peak in fifth year.

Fifth year was going to be different, she had told herself. Fifth year was going to be the year she confessed her feelings for Ominis. Unbeknownst to her, Ominis was also hyping himself up to confess his own feelings, his friend Sebastian encouraging it.

But those confessions never came. They were doomed the moment the new fifth year showed up. The dissolvement of the friendship started with Ominis beginning to overreact and lash out at the slightest inconvenience. When she pressed Ominis about this, he always claimed to be on edge because of Sebastian, but never went into details as to why Sebastian had upset him. This was out of the ordinary for Ominis, since he had always been one to tell his best friend everything. This unusual behavior eventually morphed into Ominis ignoring his best friend all together, as well as her constantly stumbling into the boys in the middle of a screaming match in the Undercroft.

Despite the growing distance between them, she was still hopeful a confession of her feelings would turn their situation around. It was the evening of Valentine’s Day, and she was on her way to the Undercroft. She was hoping to surprise the boy, a heart-shaped box full of his favorite sweets in her hand. Her hope was immediately destroyed when she found Ominis and the new fifth year standing in front of the door to The Undercroft, warped in an embrace.

“What is the meaning of this?” She shouted, which caused Ominis and the new student to pull away from each other. She could see that Ominis’s eyes seemed wet, but paid no mind to this.

“No wonder you’ve been so distant, Ominis, you’ve been too busy cozying up to the new girl!” She wanted to say more, but she stopped herself as she felt tears begin to roll down her cheeks. She threw the box of sweets on the floor as she left, ignoring the cries of “Wait, I can explain”, “We’re just friends” and “I love you”.

Ominis spent the remainder of the school year trying to make amends, but to no avail. The summer break brought with it various letters from Ominis, none of which the girl responded to, and only one of which she opened. In a sloppy script written by an enchanted quill, the first words on the parchment were “I’m sorry”. She refused to read any further, because there was nothing Ominis could say. The damage was done.

With sixth year came more aggressive attempts at contact, with Ominis frequently leaving her gifts in front of her room - bouquets of red roses, sweets, jewelry - all of which she’d refuse.

Their seventh and final year brought complete silence. Ominis had finally accepted that he lost the girl he loved. Graduation came and went, and they both worked to forget the love they once had for each other.

Their commitment to forgetting was interrupted one day, shortly after the girl’s 18th birthday, when she was dragged to the Gaunt home by her parents, where they and Ominis’s parents informed the former friends that they were to be married. No amount of protest changed their parents’s minds. And now here they were, being forced to spend the rest of their lives together in a loveless marriage.

The bride was ripped out of her thoughts when the officiant spoke directly to her, asking her the question she dreaded answering.

“I do.” she said through gritted teeth as her eyes bore into Ominis. She knew he couldn’t see her, but she hoped he could feel the anger in her stare.

“I do.” Ominis muttered when asked the same question. He swore he could feel her eyes digging into him as he said it.

With the declaration that they were now wed, Ominis hesitantly cupped his new wife’s face in his hands, bringing their lips together in a kiss, an expectation they were required to fulfill. Her mind short-circuited as Ominis kissed her. She used to spend so much time dreaming of their first kiss, and despite how much she hated him, this moment was better than she ever dreamed. Ominis too found himself lost in the way their lips moved against each other. As she felt Ominis begin to pull away, she threw her arms around his neck, pulling him back in. They savored each other’s lips for another few seconds before they both pulled away, fearful that this would unearth feelings they worked so hard to bury.

–

As Ominis sat down to dinner, his new wife right beside him, he couldn’t help the audible sigh he let out, though he hoped their guests were too intoxicated to notice. He hadn’t had a moment to process his feelings since their nuptials. Neither of them had, as the couple was immediately forced to pretend they were happy and in love in front of their families.

But despite the truth of their predicament, Ominis couldn’t help but linger on their kiss. While everything about this day was completely fake, the kiss felt real. Ominis felt conflicted, wanting it to have been real desperately, while also not wanting to resurrect those old feelings. Next to him, his wife was grappling with the same conflicting feelings. She longed to feel Ominis’s lips again, preferably on more than just her own lips. Forcing herself to remember the hurt Ominis put her through, she pushed the thought out of her mind.

–

As Gaunt manor emptied out and the evening came to a close, she was once again met with the same conflicting feelings. She knew that after the wedding day came the wedding night, and she knew what was expected of her. Part of her was repulsed by the idea, angry at the expectation that she was supposed to just lay back and let him strip her of her innocence. But the more she thought of the act, the more she desired it. Her mind betrayed her as it produced lewd images of what his body might look like and how he’d feel inside of her.

“My dear. It’s nearly and we’ve had a long day. We should get to bed.” came the soft voice of her husband from beside her as he held his hand out to her, snapping her out of her thoughts.

She began to walk ahead of Ominis, refusing his hand and ignoring the inappropriate thoughts that still danced in her mind. They found their bedroom on the other side of the manor, both of their hearts racing as Ominis locked the door behind them.

Several minutes of painful silence passed as Ominis stood awkwardly by the door, eyes directed towards the floor, while his wife stood by the bed. Her eyes took in the sight of the bed - canopied and king-sized with emerald green satin bed sheets and red rose petals haphazardly sprinkled on top. She let out a sigh before she began to undress, removing her shoes, followed by her veil, and then moving towards the buttons of her dress.

“Are you undressing?” Ominis asked, his tone laced with nervousness.

“Well I have to, don’t I!? How else are we supposed to consummate this ridiculous marriage if I don’t!? You should do the same, so we can just get this over with!”

“You don’t have to.” Ominis spoke softly, his heart stinging at the harshness of her words. Despite how distant they had gotten over the years, Ominis had always hoped that maybe, just maybe she still felt something for him. Her words were a cruel reminder that she did not. “We don’t have to do this. I would never force you to do this. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” The words felt like a knife through her chest. The restraint she had maintained all this time had finally been broken.

“You don’t want to hurt me!?” she scoffed. “Oh darling, you already have hurt me! You hurt me the day you replaced me with that new girl! Shame you didn’t marry her instead!”

She watched as Ominis’s expression changed from sadness to anger. He began to yell, something she had heard him do to Sebastian before, but never her.

“I NEVER loved her! It was you who I loved! It was always you! She never loved me either! She loved Sebastian! The reason we spent so much time together was because she was helping me deal with Sebastian. You have no idea what he was like in fifth year! He did terrible things! I was losing my second closest friend and it was unbearable!”

She stared at Ominis, and dumbfounded expression on her face as she absorbed his words. He loved her. He wasn’t in love with that new girl. He was distant and cold because of Sebastian. She had heard rumors in her sixth and seventh year that Sebastian may have had something to do with his uncle’s death, possibly being the one who committed the act. But she never knew for sure. Now everything made sense.

“I…I had no idea…” was all she could muster as her eyes went to the floor. A feeling of guilt rose up her throat like vomit.

“Of course you had no idea! You never let me explain myself!” Ominis shouted.

Her cheeks were wet from the tears that were running down her face. She struggled to form a sentence. “I..I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…”

A soft sigh made her pick her eyes up from the floor. Ominis’s face had softened into a solemn expression, and his eyes were starting to water.

“I’m sorry too. I didn’t open up to you the way I should have. I was just scared to involve you in Sebastian’s issues. I didn’t want him to hurt you as well. I couldn’t bear the thought of you getting hurt, but in doing so I hurt you anyway. I didn’t mean to push you away, I just didn’t know what else to do.”

Ominis let out a soft gasp as he felt his body be pulled against hers as her arms wrapped around his neck. She was hugging him. The most physical touch they had in years. Ominis couldn’t control the movement of his arms as they wrapped around her waist.. They held each other for several minutes, too engrossed in the feeling of each other to want to let go. All of the feelings they had locked away began to flood back to them.

“I love you.” He whispered against her neck. “I loved you in fifth year. I still loved you when you shut me out, and I love you now. It’s okay if you don’t love me, I don’t deserve it, but now that we’re married, I hope you’ll give me a chance to at least make this marriage bearable for you. I promise I-...”

Ominis was unable to finish his sentence as he felt her lips press against his. He kissed her back, with much more fervor than he had earlier. With his hands still on her waist, his fingers grazed the buttons of her dress, fighting the urge to undo them. The fight was short lived however, when his new wife’s hands moved to his chest as she began undoing his tie, followed by the buttons on his shirt.

Ominis felt like he couldn’t breathe as his hands came back to her waist, now completely bare. He followed her lead as she walked backwards towards the bed, leaning back on to it and pulling him with her so that he was above her. Ominis brought his lips down, landing on her collarbone instead of her neck. He didn’t mind the error, eager to kiss every inch of her body. His lips lingered on her collarbone for a moment before he brought them upwards. He sucked and nipped the skin on her neck, hoping that he was leaving a mark, before bringing his mouth back to her collarbone, and then down her chest to her breasts. His hand cupped one breast as his mouth latched on to the other, his fingers and tongue playing with her nipples simultaneously. Her soft moans serving as an approval of his actions. He switched positions of his mouth and hand, making sure both of her breasts received the love they deserved, before continuing his exploration, his lips moving down her stomach creating a trail of kisses as her hips slowly bucked upwards.

Ominis continued downward, pausing just above her center. He could hear her breathing speed up, the sound making his cock leak with need. He took a deep breath before bringing his mouth down, wrapping his lips around her clit and sucking.

The sounds that fell from her lips were heavenly, making Ominis grateful he wasn’t missing his sense of hearing instead. Eager to draw out more heavenly sounds from her, Ominis continued, his lips and tongue sucking and licking her clit as his index finger slipped easily inside of her. After a few pumps of his finger in and out of her, he added a second finger. When her legs came up to rest on his back and her fingers came down into Ominis’s hair, he knew she was close, and he took this as a sign that he should work her harder, which he did willingly, resulting in several more desperate cries from his beautiful wife.

With one final moan of his name, she reached her climax. Ominis took another moment to be grateful he wasn’t missing his sense of taste either as his tongue lapped up every drop she gave him. He moaned against her as he tasted her, and wanted to taste her forever.

When he had finished, Ominis’s lips moved back up her body, leaving a path of wet kisses until he reached her mouth. He kissed her passionately as his painfully hard cock bumped against her. She sat up slightly, reaching a hand between their bodies to gently squeeze his cock and rub his tip against her entrance, a desperate moan falling from her lips as she did so. His hand replaced hers as he pushed his tip against her wet entrance. He waited for her confirmation before proceeding, which came in the form of a simple sentence.

“I love you, Ominis.”

He slid inside of her, slowly, but deeply, not stopping until his hips were flush with hers. Ominis took a moment to let both her and himself adjust to the new feeling, asking if she was okay before he continued. When she gave him a breathless yes, he slowly pulled himself almost entirely out of her before he pushed back in, just as deeply as the first time, but with a bit more force.

“Does it hurt? Please tell me if it hurts and I’ll stop.” He whispered.

“No. It doesn’t hurt. I promise. Please keep going.” she moaned.

Ominis, eager to please his new wife, did exactly what she asked. What started off as slow movements quickly became hard and fast thrusts into her, a symphony of moans from both of their lips bouncing off the bedroom walls. Her second climax came quickly with another whimper of Ominis’s name. Feeling her release around his cock rapidly pushed Ominis towards the edge, with him falling off completely a few moments later. Ominis let out a desperate cry of her name as he fell off the edge, stopping his movements and spilling his release into her.

As his cock throbbed within her, he reflected on how grateful he was to be married to the beautiful woman beneath him. The girl he loved, that he was convinced he had lost, was now his, body and soul. This marriage wasn’t going to be an unhappy one, as he had feared. It wasn’t going to be a marriage forced into existence by his family. Although this marriage had been arranged by their parents, this was going to be a marriage that would be full of love and respect. Ominis made a vow to himself to never hurt her again, and to love her until his last breath.

Once Ominis had come down from his high, he gently pulled himself out of her, collapsing on the bed next to her. After several minutes of laying next to each other in pure bliss, the newlyweds cuddled under a blanket, their limbs intertwined. Ominis’s wife ran her hand down her husband’s cheek before speaking.

“I can’t believe we’ve been given a second chance, but I’m so grateful for it, and I won’t waste any second of our time together. I promise to love you with every piece of me, for the rest of my life. I love you, my darling husband.” The word “husband” felt different on her tongue. Earlier she dreaded the word, but now, she couldn’t wait to use it every chance she got.

Ominis smiled as his hand held her hand, still stroking his cheek. “I love you too, my darling wife. Now, we should get some sleep. After all, we need to be up early tomorrow.”

“We do? What for?”

Ominis chuckled. “We missed out on quite a bit of time together my dear, we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

She planted one last kiss on his lips before she rested her head on his chest, the lovers quickly falling asleep.

—

#ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis x mc #ominis gaunt smut

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queer-n-here · 2 months

Text

In love with my baby, Sigma from BSD.

Contents: Sigma has a bad day at the casino and feels like shit, so reader comforts him, and they have sex.

Warnings: Top male reader, soft dom, Smut, praise kink (slightly), nipple play.

Fem aligned and MDNI

Sigma was so close to tears.

He'd had an awful day, filled to the brim with rude customers and lost visitors that made him feel shittier and shittier by the minute. He just wanted to curl up in his bed and pass out, and only wake up when the world had ended. Or not at all, he wouldn't mind.

But you had other plans. As Sigma turned around the last corner to reach his bedroom, he saw you leaning against the wall next to the door to his room. And the moment he saw you, he ran to you.

As you caught him perfectly in your arms without the slightest of stumbles, the tears that had been collecting in his eyes finally slid down his face.

You froze when you heard him sniffle.

"Sigma, baby, what-" You tried to pull away to look at him, but he clutched your shirt, burying his face in the crook of your neck as sobs shook his frame. "Baby, what's wrong?"

He shook his head, trying to pull you closer. You wrapped your arms around him, worry on your face.

"Sigma, let's go into your room first, okay?" You said gently, trying to calm him down.

It worked, and he nodded, not letting go of your shirt as he pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes.

You led Sigma into the room, locking the door behind you so that no one could barge in and ask Sigma to deal with another problem. You sat him down on the bed before following, and he immediately buried himself into your chest again.

"Baby, talk to me," You whispered, stroking his head. "What's wrong, hmm?"

Sigma never wanted to be a burden on anyone. He would rather suffer in silence than ask for help and inconvenience anyone. But you were different. You wouldn't be inconvenienced. You would love him and tell him he was doing good.

"I just... I just f-feel so shitty." Sigma said, trying to steady his breathing enough to speak. "I can't even... I can't even run a ca-casino properly, and-"

His words turned incoherent, and he pressed his face into your shirt, muffling them out.

"Sigma, look at me, baby." You said softly, and he let you pull back to make him look at you, holding his face in both your hands. "Who said you can't? Sky Casino already has a steady reputation amongst the elites. Everyone knows how magnificent your place is. You do your best every time."

"But," He sniffed, swallowing. "But my best isn't always... the best."

"And that's fine, baby." You tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear, wiping away his tears with your thumb. "That's perfectly fine. You're always pushing yourself to do better, so what if you fall behind once in a while, hmm? And you're so perfect already..."

Sigma's breath hitched, more tears collecting at the ends of his eyes. "Really?"

"Yeah, baby," You nodded, planting a soft kiss on his forehead. "My beautiful perfect baby,"

"[Name]," Sigma's cheeks were red. "K-kiss me, please."

You smiled and obliged him, leaning forwards and placing your lips on his, kissing him slowly and gently, trying to show him his worth. Trying to tell him that he deserved everything in the world and more.

As you prodded his lips with your tongue, he opened his mouth, letting you in. You kissed him gently, but at the same time passionately, and soon Sigma felt your teeth nip at his lips a bit too hard.

"Nhh," He pulled away slightly, looking at you with his moist eyes. "[Name]."

"Yeah, baby?" You caressed his cheeks.

"Can we... Can we do it?" His blush had deepened, but his gaze was steady, and you couldn't help but smile.

"Of course, baby," You planted another kiss on his forehead. "Strip and lay down, okay? I'll go fetch the lube."

Sigma nodded, obedient as always.

You pulled away and stood up, walking to Sigma's bathroom to bring out lube.

Generally, you preferred to have sex in front of the bathroom mirror, holding Sigma's face in one hand to show him how pretty he was, and teasing his nipples with the other as your cock plunged into him repeatedly, leaving his brain foggy and eyes spilling.

When you returned, Sigma was bare, his pale skin a contrast to the dark bed sheets that were going to be stained soon.

You stripped too, letting your clothes fall carelessly to the floor as you climbed on to the bed to sit in front of Sigma, leaving the bottle somewhere on the sheets as you reached for him.

You kissed him again, your movements soft and careful, as if too much vigour would break the man before you. Sigma responded positively, wrapping his arms around your neck and letting you kiss and lick as you liked.

As the kiss grew slightly heated, you pulled back and reached for Sigma's thighs.

"Can you spread your legs for me, baby?" You whispered, and he obeyed, shyly opening up his legs and letting you prop them up on the bed, exposing his hole.

You grabbed the bottle of lube, pouring a considerable amount of it onto your hand before placing your finger against his entrance.

You looked up at him, and he nodded, the way he always did whenever you asked him if you could continue. You slid in a thickly coated finger, watching Sigma's face for signs of unwillingness, because he would never tell you to stop.

You knew his body better than himself, the way his muscles twitched in pain was very similar to the way they twitched in pleasure, but after months of gently easing down Sigma's walls, you had learnt the difference.

Sigma moaned at the feeling of your finger, raising one hand to cover his mouth, his other clutching at the sheets.

As you slid in a second digit, you looked up at him, but there were no signs of discomfort on his pretty flushed face as he panted and huffed.

"[Name]," He breathed. "F-faster, please."

Your hand sped almost involuntarily, wanting nothing more than to give the man beneath you everything he wanted.

Sigma bit his already red lips, trying not to be too loud. He was sensitive, and also loud, both without wanting to be.

As your fingers pumped into him at a constant pace, you leaned down, planting kisses on his neck, collarbone and chest as you travelled down, finally enveloping his perky nipple with your lips, making him arch his back with a moan. You pinched and rubbed the other nipple with your free hand as your mouth worshipped this one, and Sigma whined at the feeling of your fingers speeding up in him.

Your fingers hit that sweet spot in him, making the poor man come undone immediately with only a cry for a warning, ropes of cum shooting out of his untouched dick as a sound as lewd as the devil himself spilled from his pretty swollen lips.

You slowed to a stop, reaching for your cock that had been leaking precum at the sight of Sigma's magnificent body for some release. You left his nipples alone, letting him come down from his high as you stroked your cock, your eyes glued to his beautiful flushed face.

When Sigma came to, and saw you touching yourself, he reached out to clasp your wrist.

"Put it in me," He flushed, looking at you. "Let me help you."

You nodded, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on his cheek before aligning your flushed tip with his entrance. You entered, being as gentle as humanely possible, but Sigma grew impatient.

"[Name]," He placed his hands on your shoulders. "Don't stall anymore, just... Just put it in."

You obliged, not arguing with Sigma when your cock was throbbing almost painfully. You hooked your hands beneath his legs, and pressed his thighs against his chest before pushing your entire length in. As you filled Sigma up, he arched his back at the feeling, his walls tightening around you once you were all in, holding you in place.

"So pretty," You couldn't help but murmur, brushing a strand of Sigma's sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes. "So beautiful, Sigma. I can't believe you're all mine."

He flushed, his hole fluttered around you at the praise, his eyes wide as he watched you, and you knew he wanted you to continue.

"So heavenly, my pretty baby," Your hips pulled back slightly, before thrusting in again, making Sigma grab onto you, arms wrapping around your neck. "So fucking pretty I can't believe my eyes."

You thrusted as you spoke, slowly speeding up, relishing the sight of Sigma's face, scrunched up and flushed with pleasure.

"So good for me, Sigma," You continued, now bludgeoning into him, each thrust making him cry out at the feeling of your tip poking him in those amazing places. "So brave, and so amazing..."

Sigma's face was almost the colour of blood, and he raised a hand to cover it. But you wouldn't let him, pulling his arm back and entwining your hands before pinning his against the bed. Your hips snapped against his, and his back arched, presenting his erect and swollen nipples to your face. You readily lowered your head to suck on them, and Sigma whined.

"My beautiful baby, so lovely that I don't want anyone else to look at you, or get to touch you."

As you pounded into him, worshipping his chest with your mouth at the same time, tears collected at the corners of Sigma's eyes at the overwhelming pleasure. He panted and moaned, the only thing in his world was you and the amazing way you made him feel, your cock snug between his walls and your teeth against his sensitive skin.

Your name was stuck like a life saving mantra on his tongue, the sound of which made you feel the heat pooling in your stomach.

You pulled back, till the only thing left in Sigma was your tip, and then thrusted in again, hitting his sweet spot, making him scream.

"[Name]!"

You did it again, and again, and again, till Sigma was tightening around you in that way that you knew meant he was close.

You yourself were not far from the edge, your thrusts getting slightly sloppy as they sped up, panting till you released inside him with a "Fuck, baby,". The feeling of your cum seeping in him was enough to throw Sigma over the edge again, his blunt nails digging into your shoulders as he cried out one last time, his untouched cock spilling over both your stomachs.

As you slowed to a stop, Sigma's tired arms fell off your shoulders, his marked and bruised chest heaving with each breath. You pulled out of him and collapsed next to him, letting his legs fall back onto the bed.

He immediately turned to press himself against you, and you wrapped your arms around him, steadying your breath.

You stayed like that till you had both caught your respective breaths, and Sigma slowly raised his head to look up at you.

The question was plain in his eyes.

"You did good," You placed a soft kiss on the top of his nose.

He smiled, and in that moment he was so dazzling you almost grew dizzy.

"Wanna go again?" You said, a small smirk on your face.

He blushed, but nodded.

#top male reader #dom reader #dom male reader #sub sigma #bottom sigma #top reader #bungou stray dogs #bsd x you #bsd x reader #bsd x male reader #im feral for this man #i just wanna *aggressive loving noises*#sub character #sub bsd #sub bungou stray dogs

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covetyou · 3 months

Text

chaste

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Dieter Bravo x gn!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: chastity pollen (the opposite of sex pollen - our man can't fuck), mention of past drug use, masturbation, not phone sex but phone sex adjacent, brief mention of Dieter pissing (twice), cock and ball pain (not cock and ball torture), a brief thing with a glove that isn't sexy at all for anyone involved but it's there, the vaguest of dub-con for the ending (Dee sends you pictures of his dick that you didn't ask for/technically said no to but jerk off to anyway) word count: 2.6k summary: Off the back of a two week retreat to the middle of fuck knows where Dieter Bravo doesn't seem quite himself. You soon figure out why.

A/N: @sp00kymulderr reblogged this post and said someone needed to write a Dieter Chastity Pollen fic, so I did it.

Reader is entirely gender neutral, no mention of any hair, size, shape, genitals, holes, tits, nothin'.

Sorry to Joel and Tim for neglecting you, you were meant to be done this week but I hate your existence currently and Dieter brings me comfort.

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future fics

"Deiter, breakfast!"

Anyone would be fooled in thinking you were calling for a dog. No, Dieter was very much human. Most of the time.

You dump the takeout bag on the kitchen island and look around. He'd been back one day and the place was already more of a mess than when you left it yesterday. His robe was hung over the stair rail and an errant croc almost tripped you as you walked in. It was safe to say that Dieter Bravo was definitely home.

"Dieter!" You shout again, expecting to hear his feet stomping upstairs any moment.

Instead, a feeble croak comes from the other side of the couch. "I'm here."

Craning your neck, you look over the sofa to see Dieter laying there, arm flung over his face and totally, utterly nude.

"Jesus f-, Dee. Put some fucking clothes on."

"No point."

"You have an interview in an hour Dee, at least put a fucking shirt on. I brought you breakfast."

"What's the point in anything?"

You stop in your tracks. It's not that you weren't used to encountering an apathetic Dieter Bravo. It was pretty common actually, usually at the slightest inconvenience. But having just come back from a two week vacation to some pot head retreat, you assumed he'd be bouncing off the walls and easy to get on with. Easier, anyway. But, Dieter was miserable. Errant KitKat wrappers were on the floor around him and he was laying spread eagle, completely naked, on his couch.

You knew to tread carefully when he was like this, so putting the takeout bag back down as quietly as you can, you move to sit gingerly on the arm of the couch.

"What happened, Dee?" you say softly, moving a KitKat wrapper from near his face.

Dieter flings an arm out to the side and sighs dramatically. His face is still covered, but you can see he's pouting from over his arm.

"My life is ruined, that's what happened."

You'd lost count of the amount of times his life had been ruined by something or other, usually someone or something else that had fucked up or not gone to plan. Dieter Bravo never ruined his own life, of course. So, grateful that he can't see you, you pinch your nose and roll your eyes. At this rate, you were going to have to cancel on Variety. Again.

"Dieter, I know it feels that way, but I'm sure it's not that bad. We can fig- "

"It is that bad," he cuts in with a huff, suddenly hauling himself upright on the couch. "Just look."

You follow his dramatic gesture downward to where his cock hangs limply between his legs.

"That's your cock, Dee. It's always been there."

You'd seen it before. Many times in fact. Probably more often than most PAs had seen their employers genitals, to be honest. Seeing Dieter Bravo naked was one of those things that just happened. In the grand scheme of things, it was one of the most normal ways a person could ever see him. As it was, you'd seen him in far more compromising situations than sat on his couch with his dick out.

Looking at you with a strange kind of urgency in his eyes, he pleads with you. "But look at it."

Standing, you round the couch and look down at him with your hands on your hips.

It looks normal. You'd seen it enough to know that his foreskin wrinkled just like that, his balls sat soft just as they were, and his pubic hair was groomed just as it always was.

Except... it didn't move. Not a twitch or a flicker along the entire soft length. He was more flaccid than he had probably ever been and, for whatever reason, he was staying that way. You frown, letting your brows meet in the middle.

"See."

"What..." you trail off, trying to work out what the fuck was going on. You had seen him soft before, but usually within a few minutes of you talking, typically with him staring at your mouth as it moved, likely imagining you licking his balls or sucking his cock, he would begin to harden. In fact, simply stare at his dick for a few seconds and something was bound to happen. Dieter Bravo was so painfully easy to turn on it was almost endearing. And yet, he was still soft.

He slumps back, pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes until he sees stars.

"It's been like this all week. I can't do anything with it."

"What do you mean you can't do anything?" you say in confusion. For all the things Dieter had tried to do with his cock over the years, he, and by proxy, you, had learnt of the many many things his cock could not do. Saying it couldn't do anything didn't really reveal much and was likely a typical Dieter exaggeration.

"Anything! I can't touch it, I can't fuck with it, I can't even make myself hard. It's just there. Useless."

"Your cock is not useless, Dee, I promis-"

"I have to piss sitting down."

"Oh."

A few simple words and the gravity of the situation suddenly hits you. Dieter was a man who took great joy in pissing. Sometimes you thought a little too much joy, but you weren't going to judge. There were weirder things he could be into. But one of those joys came in the form of being able to unzip his pants and piss just about anywhere he pleased. There were other things he liked doing with his cock too, but if he couldn't even stand to pee, you knew whatever was going on was a big deal.

You meet his eyes again, seeing how slumped and dejected he looks, and you don't know what to say. Usually you could find a solution for anything, but Dieter Bravo is the last person you expected to have cock troubles. Luckily for you, he can't keep his mouth shut for long, and after another big sigh, blinking back tears that you swear just might fall from his eyes, words spew out of his mouth in a stream of consciousness.

"I went on that fucking retreat, and they had this new strain, and I tried it, and ever since I've just been," he waves his hands desperately in the air, "like this."

"Wait -"

"And now what am I gonna do? What if I can never come again? Who the fuck even am I if I can't come again?"

"Dieter."

"I can feel it too. It's like my blood feels horny but my cock is the opposite of horny and I can't do anything about it -"

"Dee, slow down - "

"Even if I touch it it's like I'm getting fuckin' electrocuted. It's like ZAP straight to my cock and balls, through my fingers, down my arm. My cock is going to kill me."

He finally stops, taking a deep breath as he flops back again with a desperate whine. His cock flops with him, falling sideways to rest on his leg, and he looks at it with a dramatic sob. He couldn't even move it off of himself if he wanted to.

The couch dips when you sit next to him, kicking yet another KitKat wrapper away. Despite everything, his dick still looks normal. By rights, after the things he'd stuck it in, it had no right to look normal, almost pretty, but it did. Whatever had happened at that retreat, whatever god awful thing he smoked, he was lucky this was all he got. A week of forced celibacy was nothing. For most people, anyway.

Looking at you out of the side of his eyes you can see a glimmer of a question flick across his face. You already know what he's going to ask. "Dieter, no."

"Can you try touching it?"

"No."

"Please! Not even in a sexy way this time, just... just a little bit?" he looks at you with those stupid puppy dog eyes that would have just about anyone else giving in to him. You knew better, and he usually knew better than to use them on you. They were never going to work on you.

So, you don't know what possesses you when you nod, mumbling something about grabbing some gloves from the first aid box in the kitchen. When you return, Dieter is sat with his knees wide, looking at you expectantly. Snapping a glove around your wrist you crouch in front of him and move to reach out when he stops you.

"Just a little touch," he says with a waver in his voice. You can't imagine it. The poor man had probably gone back to his room with the weed haze still licking at his bones, peeling his clothes from his body before falling into bed. He would have reached down to give his little Dee a tug goodnight, only to be met with the shock of his life. You'd be terrified too if you were him.

"I'll go slow," you say, trying to reassure him as much as you could. In a few months time you'd laugh about this, if it all blew over quickly, but right now it was impossible to get the fearful look in his eyes out of your head.

Reaching out again, you get an inch from his cock. It still hasn't twitched or moved at all, even with the threat of your impending touch. You look up at Dieter, giving him a nod. "You ready?"

Taking a deep breath, he nods back at you.

As the tip of your gloved finger barely grazes the skin of his flaccid dick, his hips buck up and he throws himself back away from you.

"A-ah! Shitting fuck! Ouch."

You still, eyes wide and panicked. You didn't feel anything but Dieter very obviously did. He's curling in on himself, trying not to writhe with the pain of the sharp zap straight to his cock directly where you touched him.

"Did you feel that?" he says, from the ball he's curled himself into. You shake your head, biting your lips in concern. "Are you kidding me?! You touch me and I'm the one who gets zapped? How is any of this fair."

"I'm not the one who smoked some mystery weed, Dieter."

"I'm going to die."

"No you're not."

"Yes I am. My cock is going to fall off because I can't touch it, and I'm going to die cockless and alone."

"No. No, look, it'll be okay. We'll give it another week, and if things aren't back to normal we'll call a doctor, get it seen to," you pat him gently on the knee and watch as he feebly nods in agreement. "Alright. Let's get you dressed, okay? We'll put your dick away for now -"

"May as well put it away forever, never gonna need it again..."

"- for now, and get you ready for your interview."

Nodding with watery eyes, Dieter lets you bundle his robe around him and take him upstairs. He complains the entire time you're fixing his hair that his dick feels wrong in his boxers, whines when you finally sit him down in front of the camera and join the call. But, two minutes in and some particularly good questions later, the fake smile he'd plastered on turns real and his cock sits soft and forgotten between his legs. At least, for a little while.

It was going to be a long week.

Four days later, at 4:23am, you're awoken by the harsh ringing of your phone. Your eyes can't focus, but at this time it could only be one person.

You fumble for a second before swiping to accept the call, slapping the phone to the side of your face with an arm that doesn't seem to have woken up properly yet.

"I'm hard! My dick is hard," are the first words that come tumbling out of his mouth. Dieter sounds positively ecstatic, if a little breathless.

Stifling a yawn and rubbing your eyes you smile in relief at his words. "That's great, Dee."

"I woke up for a piss, and stood there, stood there, pissing. Didn't even realize at first - shit that's good - had to go back and touch it in the mirror to see. No zap!"

"No zap!" you try to say enthusiastically through another yawn, barely registering the wet rhythmic noise coming through the phone.

"I'm so happy I want to kiss it. I want to kiss my dick!"

"Please don't try to kiss it, Dee, your back isn't doing great as it is." You hear him sigh and mumble a soft God I've missed you so much and it confuses you for a moment until you realize he's not talking about you.

"Do you know how good this feels? I've never felt something this good in my life, I swear it. So - fuck - so good."

You are fully awake now, staring wide eyed at your bedroom ceiling. The wet noises are clear as day. "Are you... are you jerking off?"

"Well, yeah. Haven't stopped. Do you know how quick I got hard? I'm like a fucking rock, here, let me send you a picture." Putting you on speaker, you hear the phone clatter as Dieter fumbles with it.

"Dee, no, no look, it's okay. I don't need a picture. You enjoy yourself. I'll cancel your meetings for the day so you can have some alone time."

Dieter groans, mumbling softly to you down the speaker. "You're an angel."

"I'm your PA. It's my job. Goodnight, Dee," and you slump back asleep as soon as you hang up.

At 7am your alarm sounds, and you startle awake, fairly certain you'd had a dream about Dieter's cock. Scanning through your notifications on your way to the bathroom, you spot a series of messages from the man himself.

A slew of excitable texts, a few missed calls and, finally, pictures. You hadn't dreamed it at all and it seemed that Dieter Bravo's cock was finally hard, and you had all the proof of that right in front of you. First his dick clutched firmly in his hand, glistening red tip poking from between the fingers as he hunches over to get his smiling face in the frame to give you a thumbs up. He sent you a profile view picture too, hands free, and you can see just how hard he is by how stiffly his length juts out from between his hips.

Finally, and maybe most importantly, a short video. His hand moves quickly up and down his cock, stiff and engorged in his fist, voice coming through the speaker in loud pained groans. If you didn't know better, if you hadn't witnessed first hand what Dieter Bravo sounded like with his cock hurting, you'd swear he was in agony. A few seconds later and you watch his balls seem to swell and tighten before his tip twitches to life, spurting again and again and again all over his fist, trickling down his fingers, his balls and onto the sheet below as he comes seemingly endlessly.

"Oh shit, oh shiiit," he groans in the recording.

By the time he finishes, fist slowing to a stop around his length and his slit finally ceasing its erupting, cum coats just about everything in the frame.

And then he laughs. Dieter Bravo, cock in hand at 5am and covered in his own cum, laughs in disbelief as he is finally, blissfully able to come.

You shake your head as the recording cuts off and you climb into the shower, setting your phone out of the way in a nook opposite the flow of water. You hit play again.

And again.

taglist: @jupiter-soups @wannab-urs @bean-is-reading @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @youandmeand5bucks-blog @bbyanarchist @vickywallace @kamcrazy123 @valkyreally @ashhlsstuff @a-literal-goblin @ariundercovers @iluvurfather @stevie75 @toxicanonymity @thesevi0lentdelights @sp00kymulderr

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo smut #the bubble fanfiction #coveted fics

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the-moon-files · 3 months

Note

Man, I love the trope of aliens being terrified of humans, and I've seen some fics of human!reader reacting differently to stuff like posions/plants in hyrule, but this is in another level! We are indestructible! I mean, I could live on Death Mountain! With the Gorons! It's literally a dream come true!

Also, the urge this would give me to give them all the hugs and piggy back rides whenever it gets cold/windy/whatever extreme condition.

If Hylians would be surprisingly light, would they be light enough for me to pick up Time? Just get that big ass man with a bunch of armor on my back? Because new need unlocked.

NEW NEED UNLOCKED INDEEEEDDD. (touches my fingertips together like a villain up to no good)

CREDIT FOUND!! (Who did it first!):

IDK who it was but someone mentioned in a rlly old 2023-2022? LU x human reader post abt the hylians being lighter in comparison to humans!! If i find who it is, or if u recognize u wrote abt smth similar pls leave a comment so I can @ you!! /gen

@wayfayrr :D ive been in humans are space orcs fandom (is it a fandom? More like endless AU idea ppl wrote abt on tumblr) for Years, and ofc i never thought to put with Loz this past year or 2 getting into this fandom dammit - UR WORKS AMAZING THANK YOU SM FOR MERGING MY 2 FAVS AND LIKING/REBLOGGING THIS HOT MESS 😭😭

GOD i NEED to play TP bc u can hold cats like this?? and u get to see LINK do it??? 😭😭

Sun: technically Masc! Reader but not explicit (you/he/him), coule be Gender Neutral, Human Reader

Orbit: headcanons-ish

Stars: The Classic Chain of Links

Comets & Meteors: Content: in Four’s desc. mentioned “diving into chest”, & Triggers: none known.

Please comment if I missed any. /gen

☆

A kinda 2nd part/expansion to this post!

no bc the “i can live wherever tf i want” was secretly part of why i wrote that post (so sue me, i wanna be able to follow wild around his hyrule w/o getting nuked)

OMFG SO GLAD SOMEONE WANTS TO TALK ABT HOW AFFECTIONATE YOU’D GET BC OF THIS TOWARDS THE LINKS (anduseitasanexcusehahai mean what? whatd i say??)

There’s only 2 types of Links in this hyrule(s):

Who’s already down with being cuddled at the slightest/not so slightest inconvenience??:

Wild

(unsurprisingly, also if anyone teases him he just teases right back that not only is it “for survival”, but also look he’s “getting Guide Cuddles™️ and You’re Not” lmao,

would sleep right up against ur bedroll every night if u let him, likes when you commit to the cuddle (even if he goes a little red), like wrapping arms + legs around him, adores fireside cuddles, has said on multiple occasions that nothing makes him feel safer than holding onto you, and how he can’t go back to doing things like this on his own anymore 😭😭😭

his favorite cuddle is whatever you give him LMAO u can always count on Wild if your ever feeling like u need to cuddle smth blonde and cute lol - he constantly offers or initiates it himself <33 )

Sky

another unsurprising one, his favorite time to cuddle is when it’s cold outside, or windy, and he can just get under a blanket and take a nap with you,

esp if it’s both and he can convince you to lay partially on him for heated + weighted human blanket purposes, he’s literally staring at you with sparkles in his eyes as soon as a breeze goes by lol

his Loftwing/Crimson wasn’t rlly able to fly u long distances u find out!! :( Hylians are just so light that ofc that explains why they can ride these pelican/ostrich creations for hours, whereas the bird can only rlly manage 20 minutes of low flying with you (+ Sky) on its back, but that’s fine, bc u figured out how to “shield surf” rlly fast down slopes to keep up with Sky flying low, and by “shield surfing” i mean, shocking Wild into jaw-dropped silence as he watches you fly by completely barefoot 👍

(after all, ur skin has to be pretty tough/thick to be able to handle the weather/environmental conditions, and finding out u can withstand lava? yeah this is nothing turns out)

secretly loves piggyback rides, but never asks, u just see him get this look in his eyes, and shuffling in place just behind you lol

Wind

touch starved, but what Link isnt lol

his favorite is piggyback rides, since he was raised by his grandma, and there weren’t a whole lot of close, young adults to pick him up as a kid

so now, he takes FULL advantage of u being able to easily pick him up lol

one time u guys were going uphill while a pleasant breeze was blowing-

actually it was gale force winds.

but ur you, so it took Wind flying backwards into you to realize. he also screeched at you for “ABANDONING ME- YOURE GONNA MAKE ME, A LITTLE GUY LIKE ME, CRAWL UP THIS?? HOW COULD YOU-” you give him piggy back rides whenever it’s windy.

will treat u like his own personal ship whenever ur both in the water, which consists of him yelling sailor terms like “turn starboard! raise the sails!” while sitting on ur shoulders while u get slammed (gently buffeted, really) by waves

Hyrule

shy, shy, shy, shy-

the quintessential:

“👉👈 🥺 is it okay, if we maybe hug rn?? I'm just rlly cold, and i know u said you didnt mind, and I saw Wild and Sky just laying on you, sorry if this is weird-”

Hyrule, sweets, you literally love him more than life itself, of course you’ll cuddle the fairy boy

the more excited he gets = the more likely to jump on ur back/wrap his arms around ur waist happily, esp since he’s an extra cutie patootie and will subconsciously seek u out if the environment gets a little rough

Sets an Amazing example for the other Links, not too clingy when ur busy, great at latching onto ur back when things get tough for him, asks politely and thanks you everytime he gets down <3

Hyrule is eternally fascinated by whatever u do, u just walk thru flood waters like it’s nothing and while the rest are used to it by now, he’s the only Link looking at you like your some kind of god 💗💘💖💕🙈

accidentally squeezed ur arm muscles one time when he saw u doing that thing where u curl ur arm and Wind/Wild were able to hang off of it,

you both just stared at each other for a solid minute before his ears turned down and he went completely red and apologized profusely for 5 minutes, before you just scooped him up too lmao (his face after tho)

Four

depending on the cuddle he gets shy sometimes, even worse if more than 1 Link is looking at you two, in which he will attempt to escape ur arms.

keyword being attempt.

you just wrap ur legs around him and trap him instead lol

likes to cuddle you somehow where he’s not in the way but you can keep doing whatever it is you were busy with

if he splits, then u can fucking bet Red is the first to dive into ur chest- unless there is literally, actively, a threat right in front of him, he’s going for it lol, Green loves to wrap his arms around one of yours and just hang off u all day, Blue will wait until ur sitting somewhere and flop on ur legs to purposely trap u there, the little shit, and Vio just likes hugs. he’s such a sweetheart, he just loves being wrapped up and wrapping you up 🥺

And who must be Convinced. (most to least)

Legend

fully expected,

silly man thinks he’s above love and cuddles, and all the good things in life LMAO came for ur throat again

it'll be below-freezing temperatures, in a cave with a barely there campfire, a blizzard outside, the other heroes complaining at him to just get under the blanket so you’ll get under the blanket,

bc you two are just doing that thing where 2 characters have like a table between them and are fake-out dodging left and right to try and catch the other lmao

is most susceptible to cuddles when he’s tired/injured/sick/sleepy.

it’s a cold morning and u just scootch the Links into a pile and use him as a pillow lol, and as long as no one, not even gods, perceives you two, he’ll let you stay

ok but you definitely caught him from falling into lava one time while on Death Mountain, and had to bridal carry him across half a lava lake back to shore, hehe,

Legend swore everyone there to secrecy on their own graves and favorite items

also refuses to let Ravio know of ur human advantages lol

he just wants the attention on himself as much as he can in between the other Links, no need for more competition

Time

silly man just doesn't think of his needs including affection/emotional comfort,

he only rlly initiates when the circumstances are dire, like gale force winds that he can barely walk thru/starting to slip, desert heat getting to him thru his armor and needs ur cooling touch, etc.

he keeps it as professional as he can, like wrapping an arm around ur shoulders, but you just snatch him by the waist and pick him up half the time, was surprised at first, chain giggled at him, then complained lightly, finally just accepted his fate anytime he touches you lol,

YES you have given him a piggyback ride, when a flood of water burst a dam during a battle/the other Links got out but Time didn't bc of his heavy armor,

so u yoink him up and just stood ur ground against the raging waves and climbed a rock until u weren't submerged anymore, poor guy was so worn out from the battle + the flood that he just let you carry him all the way until u camped for the night, and secretly took a nap 😭

like Legend he can be convinced to rely on u when he’s already vulnerable like sleepy/tired/injured/sick, but he does find himself secretly appreciative someone in the group can just lift his heavy ass in full armor/or someone else if it gets bad enough,

got converted and no longer has to be convinced usually, he just doesn't initiate much so u have to lol

Warriors

YET ANOTHER SILLY MAN!!

whats with all these idiots neglecting themselves, both physically and emotionally??

like boy u cant stand the heat of a desert or blizzard, just let in the cuddles 👹

similar to Time, just more vocal abt how appreciative/advantageous it is to have someone to be able to carry comrades out of harsh conditions or battles easily.

Did Not think abt this applying to himself until you literally swept him off his feet like a classic damsel in distress- mans let out a shriek after taking a second to process everything LMAO-

Loudly and Dramatically complains abt u coming to cuddle him, both just to love on him, and to heat him up in a rainstorm, but hugs you back and holds onto you anyway hehe.

Became the 2nd person to find out you’re immune to lightning.

See, everyone heard Legend talk abt u getting struck in a storm in Wild’s hyrule, but no one really came to full terms with it bc they didn't see it. Warrior is now a full believer. He actually got the closest to pissing his armor he ever has in all of his battles bc he forgot abt the metal in the storm = bad idea, until it was too late and u guys were trying to retreat to regroup, bc there were too many black-bloods, only to get full body tackled by you to avoid getting hit by lightning.

You had to bridal carry him for a minute after bc u just got back up after being hit, (it just felt like you rubbed ur body on the carpet and touched a metal wall, like a full body small static shock) bc he was in such a state of literal horror/shock,

Wars saw your life flash before his eyes 💀

Twilight

HA HA HA- HE NEEDS THE LEAST AMOUNT OF CONVINCING LMAOOO

goofy wolf man has wolf instincts that help ur case as to Why You Need to Pet Twilight’s Hair and Hold His Hand at All Times if Possible.

main reason Twi’s here is bc he thinks his height + weight = him not needing u to hold onto/cuddle as much, and he would be proven wrong HA

actually gets all blushy/shy anytime u pick him up, freezes like a puppy who’s gotten scruffed too lol

likes a lot more casual touch/cuddles, like arm around ur shoulder or his, sitting with legs touching, leaning against u when he’s cold, etc.

omfg funniest thing abt Wars/Time/Twi is that they’re the tallest out of the Links, so they make for extra fun when picking them up, cuddling etc.

but the best thing ever happened one time when Twi was still recovering from the Shadow’s wound, it got reopened/ached so bad he couldn’t run, but u all were trying to retreat at the moment bc Big Boss,

and u just snatched him up into a piggyback ride, his legs comically sticking out, but the best part was that Hylians are light.

so you were able to run full tilt adrenaline powered run, to the point you surpassed the other Links ahead, and had everyone laughing and simultaneously trying to conserve their breath to keep running LMAO

Twi grew up tall/bigger than kids his age, and is another victim of “no adult figures to pick him up when he was younger”, so he gets this little giddy smile when u pick him up lol <3

the first time u put him in a bridal carry for smth like river rushing waters, mans blushed, stuttered abt smth the whole time, and then didnt let go after you tried to put him down, u didnt have the heart to insist, so u just carried him around half of the day 😭

☆

sorry some have less than others, its nearly 2am I'm just riffing kicking my feet and shit, so I'm not being very thorough

i hope u liked my spiral into blonde twink insanity (well theyre kinda on a spectrum of twinkness)

anyway goodnight, and have a great weekend!!

to the 2 other ppl who sent asks, ill get to you soon and thank you sm for sending stuff :’)

Please feel free to send asks for requests or just to chat :)

Peace out,

🌙

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corroded-hellfire · 9 months

Note

Idk if this is something fluffy you’d want to explore but maybe a sweet Sunday morning with AYW eddie and reader like after divorce is all settled and they’re secure in their relationship but haven’t gotten much alone time and the boys maybe spent the night with Wayne so reader and eddie get a sweet Sunday morning cuddle sesh all to themselves??

I love these two and I love snuggly times so thank you for sending this in 💜

Words: 1.1k

[As You Wish masterlist]

The morning sun rays are peaking in between the blinds, casting stripes of light and dark across the dove gray comforter on Eddie’s bed. The sheets are warm and soft against your skin as you turn on your side to face your boyfriend. Blinking the sleep out of your eyes, you watch his pale bare chest rise and fall. Eddie is always beautiful, but when he’s sleeping, there’s something angelic about him. Awake, he ruins that illusion by making a comment about your ass or swearing at the slightest inconvenience. He’s lying on his back, head turned towards you with his pink lips parted just slightly. It brings a smile to your face to see his wild curls smattered all around the pillow and his left arm raised above his head.

“God, I love you,” you whisper. Moving slowly so as not to disturb the slumbering man, you shuffle closer to his side and rest your head on his chest. Eddie’s legs shift under the blankets and his arm comes down to wrap around you.

“Mornin’, baby,” he mumbles without opening his eyes. A smile comes to your face at his sleepy voice, and you press a kiss right over his heart, the demon tattoo staring up at you.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” you tell him.

“Mmm, was half awake anyway. ‘Sides,” Eddie says, eyes cracking open, “wanna take advantage of this lazy Sunday morning with you.”

You reach up and push some of Eddie’s hair out of his face. Somehow, he always manages to get strands stuck near his eyes and mouth. He pulls you tighter against his side and you nuzzle your face into his neck.

“Can we stay here all day?” you mumble against his skin.

“Wayne’s not bringing the boys back until dinner time, so we could spend most of the day here,” Eddie says, running his fingertips up and down your spine. “But I kind of wanted to make you French Toast.”

“As nice as that sounds, can it wait a few hours? Wanna lay here with you.”

“Of course, my love,” Eddie says. “Y’know, if you move in, we could do this every day.”

Tilting your head up to look at him, you raise an eyebrow. “First of all, that’s not true because Timon and Pumbaa wouldn’t let us. Second of all, we talked about this, Mister.”

“I know, I know,” Eddie sighs. He presses a kiss to your forehead. “I still want us to take it slow for the boys, but God, I want to wake up like this every day.”

“Me too, baby,” you say, rubbing your hand over his chest. “Hate sleeping without you.”

Eddie turns on his side and pulls you flush up against his chest. A soft smile on his face, he leans in and presses his lips against yours. You reach up and thread your fingers through the hair at the base of his neck. Minutes pass as the two of you exchange lazy kisses, taking your time exploring each other’s mouths like you have all the time in the world. When you eventually break apart, Eddie presses slow kisses down the side of your face.

“What if,” Eddie muses as he nuzzles his nose against yours, “you start spending the night sometimes when the boys are here? They’ve known about us for a while now. Think it’s okay to take that step?”

You chew on your bottom lip nervously and look up at him through your eyelashes. “Do you think they’ll be okay with that?”

Eddie chuckles and squeezes you in his arms.

“These are the same boys who tried to set us up at Chuck E. Cheese. You really think they’re gonna be upset if they see you here first thing when they wake up? They’re going to beg you to make them breakfast because I can’t cook.”

“Don’t they eat cereal most mornings?” you ask.

“Yeah, but that’s because anything else I make them they won’t like. And I’m sure they’ll think you pour the milk better than I do.”

You giggle as you press your lips against his. “M’kay,” you say against his mouth. “We can try that out. Sometimes I don’t leave until after they go to bed anyway. They won’t know any different until the morning.”

“Means you gotta bring some stuff here,” Eddie says, a smirk forming on his face as he runs his hands up your back. “Sexy nightgowns, panties, bras…” he trails off, bending his head down to kiss along your neck. Your laughter causes your throat to vibrate against his lips.

“Definitely going to need to bring more than that,” you say. “Though I wouldn’t be opposed to wearing some of your underwear to class.”

“Don’t tease me,” he moans in your ear.

“And besides, don’t you like what I wore to bed last night?” you ask.

Eddie lifts the blankets and lets his hungry gaze travel up and down your naked body. “Fuck yes.” He looks up to see your eyes inspecting his body as well. Cockiness floods his features when you finally meet his stare. Despite the many many times you’ve been intimate with him, you still get flustered when he catches you checking him out.

“What?” you ask meekly. “My boyfriend is sexy as shit. Wanna stare at him all I can.”

Grabbing the blankets in his fist, Eddie whips them off of your bodies and tosses them behind him to fall to the floor. You laugh at his ridiculousness and shake your head in amusement.

“Stare away, baby,” he says with a wink.

“Now I’m cold,” you pout.

“I think I can take care of that,” Eddie says, tightening his grip on you. You snuggle up against your love and tuck your head beneath his chin.

“Have I told you lately that I love you so fucking much?” he asks, resting his head against yours.

“You have. But tell me again.”

“I love you, gorgeous,” Eddie whispers against your hair. “M’so glad that you’re mine. Thank you for loving me.”

A frown comes to your face as you untuck your head to look up at him. “You never have to thank me. I loved you when I believed that this was never possible. I love you more now and I’ll love you even more tomorrow.”

“You were well worth the wait, sweetheart. I would’ve waited forever for you. And before you say anything, yeah, I’m fucking old, but I haven’t been waiting like a thousand years or anything.” He wrinkles up his nose and it makes you giggle. You lean up and press a kiss to the tip of his nose.

“I would’ve waited until I was old and gray for you, too. But I’m glad we’re together while we’re still young,” you say.

Eddie gasps overdramatically as a smile lights up his face. “You called me young! That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

His words send you into another round of giggles and you lay your head on his pillow, so you’re nose to nose with him.

“You’re so fucking cute, Munson.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #AYW #AYWS #request #older!eddie

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 10 months

Text

Consequences | Six | End

Word Count: 4k~ | Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, dark, medieval-canon sexism, heavy dub-con/noncon, DD:DNE, mean Aemond, manipulation, abusing power, gore, blood, violence, major angst, death, Aemond being a possessive horny weirdo with a power complex, kinslayer aemond

Series Masterlist

Aemond woke the next morning with a burning migraine , the epicentre of which was at his temple, where the scar throbbed the worst. The bedsheets were draped around his waist, half of which were now on the floor with his restless sleep. Everything annoyed him, the light coming in through the curtains, any sound, any mild inconvenience like not having water at his bedside.

It was today that he’d face the repercussions of his actions. When everyone would know what he is.

Kinslayer.

He rubbed his temple, where his scar lay, with his palm, trying to ease the discomfort somewhat. He winced though when there was a soft knock at his chamber doors. It was different from her usual rhythm and he furrowed his eyebrows.

“Prince Aemond” a soft voice called out behind the door. Not your grace.

He sighed, “Enter”

He groaned, rubbing his non-existent eye so hard he was beginning to see stars behind the other, wincing at the sound of his chamber doors closing, as soft as it was. Once he cracked his eye open and sat up, watching the little maidservant, with her braids tightly done, place his clothes for the day on the armchair. Aemond furrowed his brows, thinking that she was deliberately acting against him, in a direct refusal to obey him.

But then she had turned her head towards him, and it was like a slap across the face.

It was not her.

This other maidservant curtsies and proceeded to open his curtains, tying them at the sides to keep them open, visibly shaken by being in his presence, a notion that Aemond himself hates. He was sick and tired of people bristling away from him because of his appearance. Or perhaps there was another reason for this. And he wondered if everyone knew.

Kinslayer.

“Who are you” he said to her,

“Alanna, your grace” she says in return, not meeting his gaze as she continues doing her morning duties.

His maidservant would look him in the eye. This one didn’t.

“Where is she”

Alanna opened her mouth to ask who, but quickly closed to it, sensing it was a silly question.

“She is not at all well, your grace. I hope it does not inconvenience you” she says, clasping her hands together, something Aemond noticed that women do when they’re anxious.

He bit the inside of his cheek at her answer, drawing just the slightest bit of coppery blood. Truthfully, he didn’t know how to feel at her blatant disrespect for his wishes for her to return to her duties as soon as possible. But all those feelings dissipated when Alanna spoke again.

“Your mother wishes to break fast with you this morning” Alanna says politely, giving one shallow curtsy before exiting the room as fast as she could.

There was no time to feel angry at his little maidservant. Today he would be reprimanded by his family, seen for what he was, and punished for what he did. He didn’t want to. And he had been turning about the possibilities in his mind since Lucerys fell from the sky.

Does he lie. Does he lie and say that he went after his young nephew with malicious intent?

Or does he speak the truth. That he had no control over his own dragon and that Vhagar had actively sought the young Prince out herself, with Aemond begging on her back, for her to stop.

He was supposed to be the dutiful Prince Aemond. And there was the thought in the back of his mind, that if he said he hadn’t meant to do it, would anyone actually believe that, knowing the bad blood between them.

If he had to be the villain, then fine, he would have to act like it.

He got dressed slowly and secured his eyepatch, venturing out into the hallways for the first time that day. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to face what his family would say, or the not-knowing of what they were all thinking.

So as he walked through the Keep, the stagnant waft of something horrid in the aura, his mind had drifted to her. The maidservant named Alanna said she felt ill.

She had mentioned a procedure, one which Aemond, in the heated moment when he’d seen her last, did not prod about. But he knew, he knew what it was. And there was a deep part of him that thought the action repulsive, to do such a thing to an unborn child. It was a sin, he thought at the time, perhaps the worst one. On one hand, he regretted his part in giving her the funds to do it.

But on the other hand, it was either one corpse that way or two the other. And inside him, he was too selfish to let her go. Especially a tumultuous time such as this, where he was quite possibly at his lowest, he needed the comfort she offered, even if it was only the comfort of her flesh against his. So he brushed the thought of the procedure away, in favour of thinking that it was no worse than Moon Tea and that it was the result of sheer desperation.

More than anything else, as he walked past the entrance to the staff quarters, he wondered. Did the procedure hurt? Was it so incredibly painful that she needed so much rest?

Had there been blood, he wondered.

Imagining it made something horrid curdle deep in his stomach.

Drawing blood from her, on the night he took her maidenhead felt right. Gods, it felt so right. To smear it over her thighs, to remind her of who she belonged to. He even remembered the way it felt. The way it had sent a dark, almost electric impulse up his spine, right to his head, inflating it with a sense of power.

But the thought of her bleeding now, as a result of whatever horrors had occurred. It was wrong. It felt wrong.

And for a brief moment, as he stared down the hall, he considered going to her. To do what, he wasn’t sure. It wasn’t in his nature to apologise, not to be a soft, doting man to a woman. Such feelings, he felt, were below him.

So he didn’t.

He would face his family. Have whatever they threw at him. For better or for worse, he had a role to play, a script to read.

Kinslayer.

Aemond knew he was going to have teeth marks on the inside of his cheek by the end of the day if he didn’t stop. His stresses were so high though, he could not find it within himself to care.

It had gone about as well as he predicted. If not a little worse.

Breaking fast with his family, with his brother now sat at the centre as King, was an experience he wouldn’t like to repeat. His mother barely spared a look in his direction, staring straight at her plate, hands placed either side and clenched into fists, as if resisting the urge to move them at all. Her under eyes were puffy, like she’d been awake all night.

His grandfather, Otto had done rather the opposite, and kept his eye on him for the entire meal, as if anticipating he would act out if confronted. Aemond couldn’t fault the reasoning. If approached with the subject, he probably would have. He was at least grateful that the subject was not brought up, but was secretly apprehensive inside at what his family were thinking about him instead.

He felt like he’d regressed somewhat. As the sun began to set, he couldn’t bear to think of returning to his chambers, and so he did what he remembered he’d used to do. Usually, he’d go to Alicent, but as she was so upset and beyond offering compassion, he’d gone to Helaena instead. Where Alicent offered comfort in her words, Helaena offered it in her companionship in relative silence.

So he sat, a rapidly emptying goblet handing in his fingers, the other hand tapping against the armchair in Helaena’s chambers. Aegon, of course, was not present, as he rarely was alongside Helaena even in the days before his ascension to the throne. Not that Aemond would even be here in the first place if his brother was present.

Aemond had a book open in his lap, eye straining in the low light of the room, with only several candles wafting in the cool draught on each flat surface. Helena was sitting in her armchair next to him, her right hand poised with her needle and the other holding the off-white cotton with her embroidery pulled taught in the tambour frame. Past a few hums of concentration, the odd whisper and the whip of the candle flames as they danced, it was entirely quiet.

And though Aemond was hiding it well, his mind was busy.

It was dark, and yet his handmaid had still not returned to her duties.

He craved something, a closeness she could offer. And thought at first, Aemond surmised that he desired her bare flesh against his, the feeling of her heart drumming against her chest, her soft and gentle sounds, to remind him of his power and strength above her. But the more he pondered, not really reading the book in his lap and just staring blankly at the ever-entwined words, the more he realised what he really truly craved.

He wanted to hear her voice when she spoke. Wanted to feel her eyes on him, even fully clothed. Wanted to feel her soft breath against his skin.

He didn’t like it. Not one bit.

It suggested something Aemond didn’t want to know the meaning behind.

A light, cold breeze at Aemond’s feet made him shudder, and Helaena had raised her head when the candle at her side was snuffed out by the chill. She’d watched, stock still, as the blackened wick emitted the steady stream of thin smoke into the air.

Aemond, having seen his sister raise her head, had looked over, “What is it?”

But Helaena met his gaze and quickly turned back to her embroidery, shaking her head, as if ridding the thought from her mind altogether, whispering to herself once more.

He tried not to be concerned by his sister’s reaction. But it was clear as day on her face that something had perturbed her.

When it became too dark, he’d found the courage to return to her chambers. Her lack of presence there had his chest feel heavy. The bedsheets, once he’d crawled back into them, didn’t seem as soft and nowhere near as comforting. There was a chill about the room and though he could not see his own breath, he’d felt the sheer vastness of his solitude.

Aemond wanted to see her face. Feel the warmth of her blood beneath her skin.

Sleep took him at the thought of it.

“Your grace”

She walked through the doors of his chambers, her hair down about her shoulders in waves, as if they had been in plaits. Aemond opened his eye, his body lethargic and heavy, from something that seemed so much more endless and deep as sleep.

He saw the way she dreamily walked through his room in her usual uniform, her hair covering her expression. A small smirk came to his face. She was here.

She turned to face him, her face lit only by a small flame of a candle, flickering against her features. Aemond felt his blood run cold in his skin, his heart beating furiously inside his chest.

Blood.

All over her apron, hands and arms. Thick and fresh.

“It cannot be”

"Aegon!"

Aemond was awoken early in the morning, startled from sleep by his mother's voice as her hurried steps flew past his closed doors and to Aegon's chambers.

The speed at which Aemond had been forced from sleep to wakefulness sent his head all dizzy and his mother's voice had such an urgency about it. He was urged to his feet, pulling the closest thing around him to his body, which was his breeches and doublet, though it was left unbuckled at his chest.

The sun was barely up and when he'd poked his head out the doors, all he saw was the dizzying blur of his mother's auburn curls and a flash of neutral fabric, which must have been her robe. What on earth was his mother doing at this time in the morning? And with Aegon no less? Who quite possibly had not been in bed long.

Alicent threw the doors open, making for Aegon who was barely rousing from sleep with eyes cracked open thinly. Aemond knew his mother, wracked by sheer emotion, would most likely lash out at her eldest son, as she had done in the past, so he’d rushed to her side, gently pulling her arm back, keeping her from doing anything she might regret to the new King.

At this moment, Aegon was not her King. He was her son. And she had nearly forgotten that.

There were unshed tears in her eyes, “What is this?!” she threw the green silken purse at Aegon’s lap, making him groan in pain at the hefty throw, “Paying for some sinful, disgusting back-alley abortion? You cannot keep carrying on like this, Aegon!”

Aegon furrowed his brows, eyeing the purse Alicent had thrown in his lap with a groggy, tired expression, “What?...”

“Gods…Have you no shame? She had been with us barely half a year, Aegon!”

“Who?!” Aegon barked back, annoyed, and clearly confused.

“You know very well who! The poor girl whose silence you bought with coin!” Alicent was breathing heavily, feeling crowded and pulled her arm free of Aemond’s grasp weakly, “I thought you were past this, Aegon…”

Aegon stood from the bed, Helaena long absent from the chambers, it was probably for the best anyway. He held the sheets over his body, eyebrows furrowed once again in confusion.

Before Aegon could open his mouth, Hedi had appeared in the doorway, offering a curtsy with a sullen expression.

“Your grace” she greeted with a wavering voice.

Alicent swallowed, meeting her gaze with her watery, chocolate brown eyes, “The maester has confirmed it?...”

Hedi was pale and when she unclasped her hands, there was a smudge of dark blood on her apron. She nodded, “Yes, your grace…”

Hedi rushed to the door, forcefully using her shoulder to break through. Alanna was backed up in a corner, wailing and crying loudly, her whole body shaking.

“Hush, child, you’ll wake the whole Keep!” Hedi whispered once knelt before her.

Alanna choked on air, trying desperately to speak through her tears, “Sh-she…” was all she managed through quivering lips.

Hedi righted to stand and looked upon the girl in the bed, the sheets still tucked up to her chest. Looking upon her face, her eyelashes didn’t flutter, and though it would’ve been natural at first glance to assume she was merely sleeping, Hedi could see now that her chest was unmoving.

“Seven Hells…” Hedi whispered and when she’d touched her hand, it was cold and still.

Hedi looked over her, furrowed in confusion without any obvious sign of injury. Her hands pulled the bedsheets back and even the young woman, wise beyond her years, had almost gagged at the sight.

Waist down, with the darkest patch at the base of her torso, her chemise, bedsheet and mattress alike had been entirely soaked through with blood.

A heavy guilt set in Hedi’s heart, that she could not and had not kept her safe in her short time here.

“Gods…” Hedi had known this business, seen it for herself in the maidservants before her even, but she had never imagined that this sweet, quiet girl would have to suffer the same fate.

On her bedside, sat a green purse made of silk. Hedi needed to only have one look to see there were silver and gold coins inside, money that any average maidservant would never have had access to. Coins only the upper class would have.

Or royalty.

The older maidservant felt ill, as though she had failed her and not listened to her gut when it had screamed that she needed help.

All the while Alanna was still crying helplessly in the corner, “She is dead, isn’t she…” she’d asked in a weak voice.

Hedi swallowed thick and hurried Alanna out of the room, “Go to Mari’s room now, child. And do not say a word of this to anyone, understood?” Hedi instructed quite forcefully, ushering Alanna out of the room and locking it behind her.

Every step through the Keep to Queen Alicent’s chambers became heavier with Hedi’s hurried breathing, feeling the urge to both vomit and cry at the same time. The image of that young woman in her bed, locked behind that door and bathed in blood would be sealed into her head for the rest of her life. And though she was in no position to accuse anyone, she could at least show Alicent what her son was capable of and the irreparable damage that had been done.

Aemond had been silent the entire time, watching something akin to a tragedy unfolding right before his eye. He could feel his mother shake violently, in both a state of upset and anger at her eldest son.

Hedi had confirmed that the little maidservant was indeed dead, divulging the more clinical details that had included words like ‘perforation’ and ‘infection of the womb’. Alicent turned away, as if it would protect her from the words, holding her chest with her hand to calm her breathing.

Hedi’s watery, red eyes had met Aemond’s gaze then and that is where he had felt the hot whips of panic on the back of his neck. He knew. He knew that she also knew, but could not say anything. He watched as Hedi’s expression went from grief and mourning, to one of anger and a deep female rage that he couldn’t quite comprehend. Like she had felt the pain and loss of her death in her very being herself.

Hedi was the one who had seen her come back from her duties, hair down, limping and crying quietly. And she looked at him as if he were the most vile person she had the displeasure of laying eyes on.

“Do you…know of any family living?” Alicent asked.

Hedi briefly moved her gaze from Aemond, “A living sister, your grace”

“Send her wages and…necessary funds to her next of kin. Do not divulge her true manner of death, we shall say it was a low fever” Alicent said with a shaky breath, not wishing to look anyone in the eye.

Heid nodded, feeling dejected and saddened, for having to write to her living sister to tell these lies about her. And she thought…that the little maidservant would not feel right about it, but sincerely prayed that her soul would be at rest, and only hoped that she felt at peace in the end.

Once the maidservant was gone, Alicent turned to her second son, looking up at him, pale and disorientated. And when their eyes met, it was like Alicent was seeing Aemond for the first time, as if she’d just realised he was a man and no longer her small, desperate child. Her lips had parted then and Aemond felt hot and prickly all over.

Perhaps she knew as well. Deep down.

That both of her sons were capable of the same sordid behaviour.

She looked mournful. Grieving the loss of the Aemond she thought she knew. The one she had protected.

But if Alicent had seen it in Aemond, she did not say anything. And she left, letting Aemond stand there to ferment in his self-hatred.

His maidservant was dead.

And it had been his fault.

It had all been his fault.

Aegon and Aemond looked at one another. Aegon held the silken purse in his hand, looking at his younger brother knowingly. But instead of returning the purse to its rightful owner, Aegon had gripped it tight and gave Aemond a hard frown.

It had been his fault, and yet, with three people knowing without speaking, he had somehow managed to evade blame.

The maidservants took the bloodied bed sheets and mattress from the bed to be burned, standing beside the flames as they licked the blood away into ash with tears covering some of their cheeks. Freiya had not cried and instead, stood with a bitter expression, scolding the silly girl who had passed away for being involved in such vile actions.

Aemond did not see her bloodied corpse. Couldn’t, without revealing his own involvement.

But he wasn’t sure if he wanted to see her like that.

He just knew he wished to see her. Alive.

A wish that could now, never be granted.

Her dearest friends, amongst Hedi and Alanna, had cleaned her body and given her one of their light cotton nightdresses, laid on the bed she had died in with a sheet laid underneath her. She didn’t look dead in the least, but only very pale. And all laid out in white like that, she looked just like a bride.

She could not afford a proper burial and so her body was committed to the flames. Her ashes returned to the earth.

History would not remember her.

She only existed in the memories of the people she had touched around her. And with their deaths, would be lost forever.

It was only expected that a lot of maidservants handed in their notices and left the employment of the Red Keep. Alicent understood and sent them off with a good reference, thinking that it was the least she could do to offer this kindness. A new wave of maidservants had arrived, as if there was a never-ending supply of young girls excited to serve under the Targaryen family and their new King. Something squeezed tight about Hedi’s heart to hear them sound so excited. She’d known at that moment, they needed her protection.

So Hedi had stepped in as Aemond’s personal maidservant. To protect them.

As if he had even wanted them in the first place.

Every single morning, Hedi entered his chambers, forever with an angered frown to her face, and a loss of that carefree lightness that was there before. She only ever greeted him with ‘Prince Aemond’ and left before he could say anything else to her. It was as if she knew that Aemond could not hurt her, could not raise his voice at her of all people, nor dismiss her.

He hated how quickly her death was forgotten, brushed over in less than a week's time. As if everyone else was not feeling the same tear in his heart as he was. That deep, burning, vomitting sensation he always got whenever he saw the back of one of the maidservants, their hair tied up on the same braids.

He willed his bed to give him her warmth. Arguing internally that she had been there not a week before, glowing for him as radiant as the day he'd laid eyes on her.

He had dreamt of her voice.

“Your grace”

He had dreamt of her skin, her soft, supple flesh against his. The warmth of her plush insides.

Her heart beating against his. The life that she exuded.

He didn’t think he was capable of feeling grief. Is this what it was?

This pain.

“Your grace”

There was nothing to contain him any longer. No outlet for his rage to find a home.

His fire had already claimed its first victim.

So he allowed it to kindle, with the ghostly whisper of her voice forever haunting him, his dreams. Her blood. Reminding him of what he had done. Reminding him of who he was. As if she was doing now in death what pain and regret she had always wished to inflict on him in life.

“Aemond”

General Aemond Taglist: @risefallrise @valeskafics

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undiscovered-horizon · 1 year

Text

Return to sender - Kaz Brekker x Reader

[graphic descriptions of violence/injury]

SUMMARY: Someone from your past keeps sending you unambiguously romantic letters. While you think of them as nothing beyond an inconvenience, Kaz has a different opinion.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 2.9k

A/N: I'm going through the first editorial correction for my novel and as it turns out, I can't speak my own mother tongue lmao

Kaz has an eye for details. Whether it’s a pattern or an overlooked design, he always notices. That set of skills, either he learned them or was born with them, made it painfully obvious to him that your foul mood coincided with correspondence he never saw you actually read. The letter usually ends up in the nearest fireplace, its secrets never uncovered and you maunder around the club looking for a fight or a strong drink. A much bigger problem, however, was the fact that if you were in a sour mood, Kaz would become exceptionally chippy without an apparent cause. ‘Care for my investment’ he calls it, which makes a rather amusing euphemism.

In any event, he knows that the letter should arrive today. Exactly seven weeks had passed since the last time some mysterious correspondence pissed you off and the sender, as far as Kaz has noticed, is like clockwork. Strangely enough, he can’t recall a day when the letter should arrive that you’d come to the club already annoyed as though he has become privy to a rather obvious pattern that you remain oblivious to. If so, he has even more advantage - he can solve this inconvenience behind your back, in case you’d try to dismiss him. He wouldn’t listen anyway, of course. Not when it comes to you.

Knowing very well that you have a habit of arriving shortly after Inej, he’s quick to find the thief before you even get a chance of catching wind of his scheme. She’s fixing her clothes when she spots him hastily limping towards her with his face turned nearly into a snarl. A hand brushes through his hair. He’s agitated. But Inej knows better than to make the first move against the unmovable mountain. Kaz sought her out, after all, and if he means business, he won’t waste time.

And he does just as she thought. Speaking in a low tone, Kaz makes her part of his conspiracy: “Inej, I need you to do something but no one else can know. Someone will deliver a letter today. Follow them and find out as much as you can,” his voice is stern, not accepting refusal. The matter appears urgent, of utter importance.

Her keen gaze studies his face for a moment, looking for any way even the slightest tick of muscles could reveal a further piece of the mystery she isn’t yet privy to. “Is this about the new job we’re doing?” She elegantly manoeuvres around the subject.

Kaz knows what she’s trying to do. He clenches his jaw and gives her a blank, although somewhat impatient, look before slowly answering: “It’s rather loosely related.”

This is enough to put her curiosity on hold - for now, at least. The unmovable mountain remains, well, unmovable. Inej nods. “I’m on it.”

The moment she ends her sentence, the door to the club opens with a creek echoing through the otherwise empty venue, immediately earning the undivided attention of Kaz and Inej. The sound of heels against the wooden floor is unmistakable as is the fitting, rather short, coat. Inej smiles, stifling laughter as she notices Kaz immediately straightening his back when he sees you.

There’s a certain spring to your step, one that Kaz has learned to associate with complacency. Although this joyous aura is making his mind turn into quicksand swallowing anything coherent, he’s got enough grip on his thoughts to render his theory proved - you really do not have any idea that the letters come regularly.

With a triumphant grin, you wave a scroll in his face. “I had a hunch and did some browsing at the city archives. You’re going to love it.”

Inej is gone and the only thing Kaz can do at the moment is wait along with trying his best not to think about this mail fiasco. But considering you’ll spend the entire day a mere inch or two away from him, he’s hardly going to do much thinking anyway.

“Let’s see it then,” Kaz interposes before turning around and walking back to his office.

Making his way to Brekker’s office, Jesper examined the expensive stationery from every side and angle. No matter the perspective, the cursive letters on the front still spell out your name. Truthfully, he does that every time you receive mail, mainly because of how little you talk about the possible sender. There’s always a huff, an eye-roll and the envelope ends up turned into ashes, without any further explanation. You become short-tempered for the rest of the day and go ballistic on anyone trying to inquire about the mysterious correspondence. As much entertainment as it usually brings Jesper, he’s smart enough to know when to stop poking the bear.

Jesper knocks on the door but opens them right after - announcing his arrival rather than asking for permission to enter.

“...smuggling through the sewers.” He hears you finishing your sentence.

Both you and Kaz simultaneously tear away your gaze from the maps scattered on the table and bore your eyes into Jesper with anticipation. He lifts the letter, wriggling his wrist slightly, and immediately your expression falls. You clench your fist. A contemptuous grimace creeps onto your face.

“Letter for you,” he announces.

“By the Saints, not this again,” you whisper and roll your eyes.

“What do you mean again?” Jesper asks casually, half expecting you to break his hand and half hoping for an answer. Today, as it turns out, is his lucky day.

“A friend once convinced me to go to some socialite high tea with her. I met someone there, we wrote to each other a few times and then he started to be obnoxious, the whole ‘woe is me’ lark.” The memory must still be vivid to you as you let out an annoyed sigh. “He claimed he can’t live without me while never spelling my name correctly. But since I value myself a little too much to waste my time on pity parties, I simply stopped replying. The last letter I sent him, I don’t know, three years ago? And he just keeps coming back.” You clench your jaw, clearly stopping yourself from a string of profanities considered obscene even in this company.

Jesper puts on a playful grin. “You know, you never struck me as someone who’d have a secret admirer.”

Your irritated gaze makes him equally amused and nervous. “He’s not exactly secret, is he? More of a returning cockroach infestation. Worry not, boys, I’ll just burn this one like the rest and we can all forget about this little perplexity.”

“Come on, you’re not even a little bit curious about what’s inside?” Jesper coaxes as he hands you the letter.

“Believe me when I tell you that I don’t give a rat’s bald ass about this man and his pathetic wax poetic.” You snatch the envelope, all the while looking at your friend with squinted, piercing eyes. Considering who you are, a complete lack of curiosity whatsoever might as well be a symptom of a lethal disease.

In that short moment, when the stationery goes from Jesper’s hand into yours, Kaz watches the letter as closely as he can. Smooth paper, probably expensive. Careful lettering, written with patience and thoughtfulness. An aroma of mint and tobacco lingers on the parchment. The stamp has the current date on it and the postal code is only a few numbers away from the club’s - whoever sent it is in Ketterdam and quite close by.

Kaz makes those little observations just in time because you throw the letter into the fireplace behind him, without even glancing at the paper. The flames grow for a few seconds, devouring the dry stationery. Soon, there’s no evidence that any mail has been delivered to you on this day.

“Now, where were we?” You clap your hands. “Ah, sewers.” Jesper takes the change of subject as his cue to leave but you stop him right when he pushes down the door handle. “Oh, and Jesper? If you tell Inej, I’m ripping your arm off and beating you to death with it.”

He looks at you over his shoulder, a newfound sense of anxiety turning his vivid amusement into somewhat tame courtesy, leaving his smile unfaltering but tearing away the genuine joy behind it. “I will keep this enlightening piece of advice in mind, thank you.”

The door clicks as Jesper closes it behind himself. Returning to your previous engagement, you stumble upon Brekker’s stern gaze of disapproval.

“Do not maim my investments.” Although it’s supposed to be a scolding or a threat, it comes out with a certain note of disinterest.

“Don’t try playing all nice, Kaz. You and I both know you’d watch for like ten minutes before stepping in.”

His gloved finger taps the map. “Sewers.”

You mumble something along the lines of ‘yes, sir’ and pick up the single-handed divider again. Kaz examines your face out of the corner of his eye. Judging by your casual demeanour, the palm’s length between your heads is of no bother to you. Maybe you’re just too busy counting the segments with the divider. When you’re done, you reach for the other side of the desk, for a moment leaving broody Kaz to the, surprisingly cold, lukewarm air filling the room.

This day just can’t seem to end for Burr Lowther. First, he had to take his regular trip into the filth of the Barrel, he shudders at the memory, only to then spend another ten hours at the sewing workshop. Being a foreman pays exceptionally well and perhaps this is the only reason he’s still putting up with those lazy needlewomen.

Putting his well-kept coat on the hanger by the front door, Burr lets out a sigh of relief - compared to the factory, his house is a quiet oasis. He remembers to take out a pouch and a box of expensive cigars from his coat. Without much thinking, he opens the small bag and puts another leaf of mint between his teeth. What started first as an addition to his personal hygiene, has quickly become a habit impossible to kill. Now used to the strong, chilly sensation on his tongue, he’s grown to like it.

The house is drowning in darkness. Dim, yellow light from the streetlamps crawling in through the windows is barely enough to let him make his way around the furniture. Foreman Lowther is yet to start the fire in his living room but he needs to be quick - if he stalls too long his joints will begin to hurt. Even with laudanum, the ache is bound to keep him up for hours and that’s something he can’t afford. But first, he needs some light to be able to get the necessary things.

Chewing on the herb, Burr walks to the table across the room from the fireplace. He puts the new box of cigars down and begins looking for something to light the oil lamp. Once he blindly finds a box of matches, his muscle memory does most of the job - he’s lit up the lamp far too many times to think about the actions. In swift, mechanical motions, Burr takes off the chimney, lights the wick and puts the glass part back on. The fire brightens the rest of the table, reminding the foreman that he forgot to put away the made-to-order McKinnon & Co. stationery. He pushes the paper farther away from the lamp, just in case.

Burr’s knees make a cracking noise when he crouches in front of the fireplace. Carefully, he lights a match and puts it between logs and old newspapers. The fire smoulders for a moment, balancing between starting and being put out, before a bigger flame begins gnawing at the dry wood and paper.

Foreman Lowther is about to stand up when something hits the side of his head, making his face clash with the seat of a nearby armchair. Scurrying and turning around, he sees an outline of a man, looking more like a feverish mare of the night than a real human. He’s thin and tall, dressed rather elegantly. The model crow on his cane glistens in the newly started fire.

“Who are you?” Burr’s voice cracks, giving away his panic.

“A scorned businessman, Burr Lowther,” Kaz explains slowly.

The foreman climbs backwards into the armchair. It’s difficult to look imposing while sitting beside a fireplace but his fear is far too severe to let the man stand on his own two feet.

“I’ve no business with you!” he yells. A few droplets of spit fly out of his mouth. “Get out!” Burr’s shaky hand points vaguely in the direction of the front door but Kaz, as it seems, is not going anywhere just yet.

In slow steps, Kaz gets closer to Burr, the difference in height painting him even more menacing. Lowther’s hand falls limp on a small table meant for trays with food.

“Perhaps you don’t. But I have plenty with you.”

Before foreman Lowther can ask another question, Brekker drives a sharp blade through the man’s palm, pinning it to the wooden counter. A howl of pain cuts through the night, scaring away the birds sitting outside the windows. Thick, crimson blood spills from the wound, falling to the floor in long drops. The fireplace’s flame glistens in the growing puddle, the reflection dances in morbid anticipation.

Kaz walks over to the table with the oil lamp. The first thing that catches his eye is the ivory paper. Somehow, he stifles the visceral reaction it elicits from him. Grabbing the wad of stationery, he folds it a few times and puts it in the inner pocket of his coat. Then his gaze trails towards the wooden box of cigars. The name of the company, Starling, is burned in cursive lettering on the front. In a swift movement, Kaz slides the package open, knowing exactly what he’s going to find inside - a cigar cutter. For people who can afford Starling tobacco products, it definitely doesn’t befit to chew off the end.

Firelight cascades off the metal cutter when Kaz turns back towards Burr. The man’s eyes widen in panic, recognizing the sharp device put against him.

“No, sir,” Burr begs with a frantic shake of his head. “Oh, Saints, please, no! Don’t! I’m begging you, sir! Please, please! No, please!”

Brekker’s face doesn’t change its indifferent expression. The pleading is not putting him off, never faltering his already-made decision. Perhaps, if it isn’t too morbid to consider, he’s enjoying having someone at his mercy. The cigar cutter clicks quietly as Kaz closes it a few times to check the state of the mechanism.

Kaz makes his way back to the foreman. Casually, he puts his cane against the table but away from the nailed palm, careful not to get it dirty. Then, he snatches Burr’s other hand, the swiftness diminishing all doubts that he’s inexperienced in bringing suffering.

“You have laid your hands on something that isn’t yours, Lowther,” Brekker explains as he forces one of the man’s fingers through the cutter’s opening. “Now you must pay for it.”

A muscle in his face ticks as he presses the cigar cutter. Burr howls in agony, tears streaming down his face. The finger falls to the floor with a wet slap as blood begins to pour. The white tip of the bone sticks out from the pulsating flesh, glistening in the warm, dim light of the burning fireplace.

In a feverish delirium, Lowther mumbles something under his nose, the string of incomprehensible words sometimes interrupted by sobs. Kaz can understand only two things from the ramblings of a madman: ‘wench’ and ‘reply’. Scarce information but he hardly needs more.

“Wench?” he repeats in a low voice.

With a snap of his wrist, Kaz twists the knife still residing in the man’s hand. A bone cracks. But there’s no scream this time - not an ounce of strength left in the victim. Lonely tears stream down his grey face, mixing with cold sweat as he blankly stares ahead. A gloved hand yanks his head back by the hair, forcing delirious Burr to look into Brekker’s eyes. They look darker than they should, clouded with something far too horrible to be considered human.

“Not only did you lay your filthy hands on something of mine,” Kaz’s voice is low enough to resemble a growl as though something carnal inside him has finally woken from its slumber, “but you also dare insult her.”

Burr makes a strange guttural noise, something between a gag reflex and a murmur, as another one of his fingers is cut off. Considering his vacant expression, it’s hard to say whether his consciousness even registered the loss.

Kaz tosses away the cigar cutter. It clutters and clicks falling in the largely unknown corner of the room. Reaching inside his coat, he pulls out the folded stationery. Pressing tightly on Burr’s cheeks, he forces the man’s mouth open.

“I don’t think you will be needing this anymore.”

Even if foreman Lowther was in his right mind at the moment, there wouldn’t be much he could do to prevent Kaz from shoving the dry paper down his throat. A match, a spark, a smoulder - the ivory stationery is burning inside Burr’s mouth.

Leaving Burr Lowther to his own devices, Kaz Brekker leaves the house, joining the otherwise grey and indifferent citizens of Ketterdam. The sunrise is just a few hours away. He’s making his way back to the club, uninterrupted and unbothered, to enjoy another day of your hardly divided attention.

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