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izelascendant · 3 months

Text

Helping Hand.

Din Djarin x f! Original character

words: 3,912

summary: Sharing a room comes with all sorts of problems. Problems that can be fixed by helping each other out. Lending a helping hand, if you will.

tags: Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Masturbation Interruptus, Helmetless Din Djarin, Lights Off, Squirting, Multiple Orgasms, Come eating, Wet & Messy, First Time, Sexual Inexperience, Handjob, Vaginal Fingering, Simultaneous Orgasm, Smut, Porn with Plot (?)

author’s note: If you couldn’t tell already, I have a thing for Din Djarin in the dark. Also I’ve just been booming with ideas.

Din exited the shower, pausing briefly before heading back into the dimly lit room. Despite the darkness, he could make out her silhouette on the top bunk. With her back turned, he presumed she was asleep.

She wasn’t.

She had been awake for some time, grappling with a sense of guilt over the tension that had hung between them since the events of the previous night. Determined to address it, she finally broke the silence by speaking up. "I kept you up last night, didn't I?"

Her words shattered the silence, catching Din off guard as he believed she had been asleep. Stunned, he stood frozen by her bunk in the darkness. Uncertain about the source of the tension, he was determined to diffuse it. "Don't apologize," he whispered, aiming to offer reassurance and put an end to the lingering unease.

A few more seconds of silence lingered before she finally sat up "You heard," she said, her words carrying a sense of uncertainty, as if unsure whether it was a question or an affirmation.

"I did," he confessed at last, his tone betraying a curiosity about the direction the conversation might take. A palpable silence settled between them, punctuated only by the sound of their breathing. He almost sensed that his own heartbeat might be audible in the quietude.

Eventually, she broke the quiet with a quiet admission, "It helps me sleep." Her tone held a tinge of embarrassment.

Her confession seemed to intensify the heat coursing through his body. "It helps you sleep?" Uncertain of what else to say, he let the question linger in the dimness of the room.

She swallowed, her voice still hushed. "I wasn't trying to wake you," she explained. "Like I said, it helps me sleep. And since we share a room, I can't—" She trailed off, still feeling a little hesitant about the subject.

"You can't what?" he persisted, sensing an inexplicable need to hear her articulate the words distinctly. The conversation stirred within him a range of emotions he couldn't quite identify.

Did she really need to spell it out for him? She let out a small huff "You know what," her voice was low and slightly raspy, "touch myself, make myself—" She halted once again, the unspoken words hanging in the air.

A surge of heat coursed through him, and arousal pulsed once again. His heart skipped a beat when she stopped short of the final word. "You can say the whole thing," he whispered, his tone encouraging. "You don't have to be shy about it." The intimacy of the moment hung in the air, the unspoken tension reaching a new height as he urged her to express herself fully.

Her cheeks burned, a vivid display of the lingering embarrassment mixed with adrenaline. “Making myself come. Having an orgasm helps me sleep.” She mumbled.

"Is that—is that what last night was?" he whispered.

A soft "yes" escaped her lips, the admission hanging in the air like a delicate thread. While she felt a desire to be mature about discussing the subject, the underlying tension stemmed from the fact that—she secretly thought of him while pleasuring herself.

The overwhelming situation left him speechless, his mind filled with questions and imagery. He pictured her pleasuring herself, feeling the overwhelming desire and arousal that filled him. The feeling was new and intense, like nothing he had felt before.

“Was it only once? Or did you—?” He could barely speak, the tension growing thicker.

Din's words made her face warm up again. “For Maker’s sake, Din,” She was a human, a flesh and blood person with desires that were natural. “I have needs just like you and everyone else. Yes, I–I masturbate. I enjoy pleasuring myself, is that so hard to believe?” She mumbled back, unsure of what his intentions were, or where the conversation was headed.

“It’s not hard to believe. I do too,” he finally managed to say as he continued to feel his heartbeat increase.

“So what’s the deal?” Her voice rasped a little. “I’ll be more quiet next time.” She sat back, her voice lowering even further. “Or if you want, I’ll do it outside of the ship.” There was a hint of humor in her statement, despite her sheepishness.

“No, no,” he was quick to respond. “You can—you can be as loud as you want.” She could say or do whatever she wanted. He was hoping that she knew why.

His words caught her off guard, confusing her once again. She mumbled a simple 'What?' to his statement, unable to process the interaction herself.

“It's okay.” he started off, but then his words failed him once again, as his tongue twisted and stumbled over them. “What I'm trying to say is that you can—you can do what you want," he said quietly.

Then he tried his best to finish the thought, “I don't want you to tone it down.”

“You like it?” She questioned in a whisper. She was being enveloped by the arousal she knew so well, almost as if it had been there the entire time, waiting for her to let it take her.

“Yes,” he whispered, not trying to hide his feelings one bit. He was not sure what to say or how to respond after that. He was still getting the same feeling from last night that she had left him with—an overwhelming sense of heat and a rush that he didn’t know how to deal with.

“Din?” Her voice, slightly raspy and hushed, pierced the air once more. The unspoken tension lingered, and it was evident that there was something on her mind, something she wanted to say or ask, but the words eluded her.

“Yes?” he whispered, still mesmerized by the sound of her voice after she had spoken.

“I want to hear you,” she paused, thinking about just how bold her request was, “just like in the shower.” The room held a suspended silence as she paused, contemplating the boldness of her thoughts and the request that hung on the tip of her tongue.

“And you listen to me too—both of us, touching ourselves.” She whispered.

Her admission hung in the air, and a heavy silence settled between them. “You mean, you want to hear me while—” he could not come up with the right words. The idea of him touching himself for her to hear was making her go crazy. He found it so arousing to think of.

“Please,” She whispered, the room held a heightened sense of awareness as she shuffled in her cot, the audible sound of her removing her shorts adding a layer of intimacy to the charged atmosphere.

“Get into your bunk.” She said softly.

Her words seemed to act as a signal, and he didn't ask any questions. Climbing onto his bunk, the darkness shrouded him, leaving him unable to see anything. Yet, he made his body as comfortable as possible, anticipation hanging in the air. The feeling of suspense was almost overwhelming, but there was a strange allure to it, a shared moment in the dimly lit room that held a promise of something unspoken and intimate.

“You can hear me, right?” she inquired from the top bunk, her breath slightly labored. She ensured that he could detect the sounds of her movements in her cot.

“Yeah—Yeah, I can hear you just fine,” he mumbled. The moment she started to move around in her bed, he was already starting to get excited.

She swallowed and shimmied out of her skivvies, allowing herself to lay completely bare in the darkness. Her breathing started off heavy as she slowly touched herself, the quiet atmosphere allowing every single lewd sound coming from her to be audible.

“Are you,” she swallowed, “doing it too?”

Her words, her gestures, and the sounds of her self-indulgence were driving him to the brink, leaving him utterly exposed in the darkness. His breaths grew heavier, and he felt a pulsating intensity building within him.

“Y-Yeah,” he replied after a few seconds of waiting.

Almost instantly, she emitted a contented hum upon hearing his words. Her labored breaths transformed into soft moans and whimpers. "Keep going, I want to hear," she murmured, giving in to the sensations without restraint. Her mind was hazy, and her entire body felt warm and moist.

Now unable to contain himself, he couldn't remain silent any longer. The symphony of her moans and whimpers created an illusion that she was right there in his bunk, beside him. His breathing escalated, becoming rapid and audible, spiraling out of his control. Small, desperate moans escaped him as the intense sensation surged within. The realization that she was engaging in this act solely for him sent waves of unbridled arousal through his body.

She had never encountered anything quite like this before. While she had engaged in self-pleasure, it paled in comparison to the current experience. It felt as though they were each treated to their own exclusive performance, as if the sounds they made were tailored solely for mutual pleasure.

“I’m close.” She cautioned, uncertain whether the words were spoken aloud or merely a product of her internal thoughts.

His sounds grew more aggressive, and his breaths became increasingly heavy and abbreviated. “So am I,” he breathed out.

His deep groans were akin to heavenly music for her. They were sufficient to induce her eyes rolling back and her back arching as she fervently manipulated her fingers. A choked moan escaped her, sensing her body growing hotter and weightier. "Din," she moaned, injecting a personal touch into the moment, even though they couldn't see or physically feel each other. It all revolved around the sensations and sounds they shared.

The realization that she was seeking him out, and not just anyone else, stirred emotions within him that he never thought possible. Her voice, above all, was the ultimate turn-on, resonating as absolutely perfect to him. The sounds emanating from the darkness carried an intimacy and heat that heightened the experience even further. “I’ the same,” he replied. “I’m just about—there.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, the hand not otherwise occupied tightly gripping the sheets. She didn't dare alter her pace; she was on the brink—just needing that extra push to propel her across the finish line. "Please," she panted, "say my name," she begged. The room resonated with the explicit sounds of both of them edging closer to their climax.

Her words unleashed a powerful sensation within him, surpassing anything he had ever felt before. Despite the desire to prolong the experience, he wasn't sure if he could hold out much longer. Her words were driving him to the brink of madness. Unable to resist any longer, he blurted out her name. The proximity to climax was so intense that he couldn't resist the overwhelming sensation. "Say my name."

She let out an almost squeal, her limbs squirming within the sheets. "Din—" she choked out, "I'm com—" Those were her final words before her breathing became even more erratic, and she felt as though she might have seen stars.

A wave of heat and pleasure engulfed him, and he released one final moan before finally finding his peace. His entire body twitched, and his breath grew heavier. He lay still in the darkness for a moment, absorbing the magnitude of what had just transpired. It was utterly mind-blowing.

Afterwards, the only sound that filled the room was their combined breathing, still heavy but gradually slowing down. Her mind remained foggy, her body warm and slightly sweaty. A moment of silence passed between them before she decided to break it. "I squirted," she remarked with a slight chuckle at the vulgarity of her own words.

Her words and her chuckle broke him from his state of thought and he felt a wave of heat wash over his body once more. “I came too,” he said back, breathing heavily.

She was still feeling bold. The thought of what they had just done dawned on her, and she started to realize what had just happened, but she didn’t want to lose the feeling of lust just yet. “In your hand?” She asked.

He let out a smirk and a short, quiet chuckle as she asked this question. “It had to go somewhere,” he said quietly.

She giggled faintly. Her breathing was still audible. After a pause she spoke again. “Show me.” She murmured. “Bring your hand here.” Her voice was full of excitement and boldness.

He emerged from the lower bunk, cautiously extending his hand, which bore the remnants of his release, towards the edge of the blanket to show her. His curiosity lingered, eager to receive her reaction.

She touched it, feeling the consistency. “It’s still warm.” She noted. Her voice was still dripping with lust.In the dimness, their vision obscured, she took hold of his hand and gently guided it closer to her mouth. Her heart pounded, and after a momentary hesitation, she acted impulsively—without thinking, she ran her tongue along his hand.

Her description of it being warm ignited a frenzy within him. The realization that she was right there, experiencing the same sensations, made it all the more intense. It became the most arousing sensation he had ever felt, prompting a quiet groan to escape from him.

"Salty," she added quietly, allowing his finger to gently graze her bottom lip. The entire experience was incredibly erotic, heightened by the pleasure of hearing his breathing. Sensing his enjoyment, she murmured, "I made a mess of myself."

His heartbeat pounded so intensely it felt like it might burst out of his chest, and the sensation of impending release gripped him once more. He shifted his hand to where she had touched herself, then slowly brought it to his mouth. It took a moment for him to summon the courage to follow through.

She released a long breath as his fingers met with her core, which remained warm and wet. His unexpected move caught her off guard, but she welcomed it without any complaints. Her cheeks burned with desire, and she let out a shaky breath, an intense yearning for him welling up within her.

"How do I taste?" she whispered raspingly, her words soft yet filled with desire.

He savored the taste and sensation, taking his time before slowly swallowing, he whispered, "Divine," in response.

His words had a profound effect on her, melting away any remaining barriers. "Din," she murmured yearningly, her mind still clouded with lust.

The thought that they were lying right next to each other, sharing the same sensations, sent waves of satisfaction through his body. "Just like you," he replied quietly, acknowledging the intimate connection they shared in that moment.

“Kriff,” She murmured slowly. She was surprised at just how much his words were able to fuel her own arousal—and she had a feeling he knew what his words did to her. She sat up, sensing his heavy breath close to her.

“My sheets are wet.” She stated, following up with a brief pause. “Can I come down to your bunk?”

Without a moment's hesitation, he was ready for her to join him. "Yeah," he whispered back, "come here."

He heard her descend from the top bunk, bringing her blanket with her. She placed it down in the space he had made for her in his bunk and lay down, positioning it just below her hips. The blanket, already damp with her previous release, served as a makeshift towel for the time being. As she breathed out, she felt the warmth emanating from his body, not too far from hers. There was an irresistible allure to it.

“I’ve never been so worked up.” She murmured, almost in admiration. She drifted her legs apart, her feet shuffling through his sheets. “I’m still soaking.” She said in a slow and tantalizing breath.

They were in such close proximity that the air between them felt suffocating. His hands slowly traveled up to her thighs, feeling the dampness on them. Uncertain about what would come next, he surrendered to the instinctual impulses of his body.

She emitted a faint whine, her breath shaking with anticipation as she felt his hand drawing near. Sensing her heightened pulse between her legs, she gently guided his hand, pressing it down a bit to let him truly feel her warmth and wetness. The palm of his hand rested on the patch of hair at her pelvic area, while his fingers explored between her folds. She swallowed, allowing her mouth to hang open in the midst of the intensifying sensations.

Her warmth enveloped his hand, and his mouth hung open as he absorbed the overwhelming sensations. "Gods," he breathed out slowly, continuing, "You're so warm."

Her whimpers and moans alone were enough to captivate him, and the sensation of her warmth was all he needed. Placing his hand on her hip, he moved his fingers delicately between her folds, feeling the warmth intensify. He let out small chuckles. "I almost feel like my hand is melting," he remarked between heavy breaths.

She emitted a gentle chuckle of her own. Then, she brought her hand closer to his hip, letting it graze along his warm skin. "Can I touch your hard-on?" she whispered, full of eagerness and curiosity. His hand was right where she needed it, and she desired to place her hand right where he needed hers.

“Yes, please,” he murmured back to her.

She went for it, slowly exploring him. Taken aback by the sheer length and thickness, it was an entirely foreign experience for her—foreign yet undeniably exciting. She swallowed, feeling around aimlessly.

"I've never," she began, uncertain of how to articulate what she wanted to say, "I don't know how to—"

Her sudden halt caught him off-guard for a moment but he quickly realized that she was in need of guidance. He took his hand and laid it on hers to guide her in the correct way.

She found it even more arousing when he placed his hand over hers to guide it. A soft moan escaped her, and her breathing became heavy and shaky once more. Deciding to reciprocate, she placed her hand onto his where his fingers were exploring. "Right there," she whispered, "that's where it feels the best," indicating as she guided his fingers to her most sensitive part.

"Ok," he whispered, allowing his fingers to follow her guidance. He kept his hand still on top of hers, refraining from moving his fingers for a moment, allowing her to take control. Eventually, he started moving his fingers in gentle circles, synchronizing with her needs.

A louder moan escaped her, a clear sign that he was hitting the right notes. Her breathing transitioned into whimpers, and her eyes fluttered for a moment. Despite her own pleasure, she remained focused, wanting to reciprocate and please him just as much. In response, she sped up the pace of her hand wrapped around his length.

“Does that feel good?” She breathed out.

He released a groan of his own in response to her touch, finding it absolutely amazing and feeling on the brink of breaking from the intensity of the sensations. Yet, the sounds of her whimpers and moans spurred him to continue. "It feels so good," he muttered, punctuating each word with small moans. "Keep going—"

She swallowed, panting hard, feeling a slight boost in confidence as she could tell she was pleasing him and heading in the right direction. "Your fingers," her words tumbled out amidst moans and heavy breathing, "inside me," she mumbled.

The thought of his fingers being inside her sent a wave of heat throughout his body. "Maker," he murmured softly, his breathing becoming heavier with each word.

She guided his fingers, breathing heavily. Once they were in just the right way, she felt her body sink into the mattress, the heat intensifying, and she couldn't help but moan. "Oh gods," she tried to control her breathing, "stars,”

"Curl your fingers," she gave one last indication.

"I've got you," he assured, letting his fingers curl up inside of her, following the direction she was leading. The more he made her feel good, the closer he felt himself getting to the edge.

His actions elicited a cry of pleasure from her, and her grip around him tightened as she stroked more vigorously. "I-I'm not gonna last," she struggled to speak, her head tossing and turning against the pillow behind her. The overwhelming stimulation brought her to the brink of ecstasy.

“Neither am I,” he responded hoarsely, his breath becoming even shorter and he began to feel his legs quiver slightly. “I—So good,” he groaned, his fingers still curled, as she had indicated. “I’m so close.”

She practically screamed, gripping the sheets as tightly as she could, her legs spasming and her back arching in the throes of ecstasy. Barely giving herself time to recover, she shifted her focus to him as he approached his own climax.

"Gods," he moaned, taking control of her hand, guiding her fingers further and further as he approached his climax.

"Yes," she panted, delighting in the sensation of his release. They both lay back, their breathing patterns erratic, bodies sweaty and overheated. As enjoyable as it was, it left them both utterly spent.

"Stars," she whispered. "I don't even know where to start." She lingered, her gaze lost in the dark. Her breathing started to calm down, and she felt her whole face was hot and flushed.

"Neither do I," he whispered back. A quiet stillness settled in the small space they shared. Although the air wasn't as hot as before, it still carried a warmth. He let his gaze linger on hers for a moment before allowing it to wander off to the ceiling, absorbing the sight of her next to him and the profound connection they had just experienced.

The air hung heavy with a certain scent—a mixture of pheromones and sweat, not unpleasant but a testament to the intensity of their exchange. She took a deep breath and sat up in his cot, her eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room, trying to discern his location.

"Wipe yourself off with my blanket. It's soaked anyway," she said with a hint of amusement. She stood up from the bunk. "I'm gonna pee. I'll be right back," she warned calmly before slipping into the fresher.

He remained where he was, taking a moment to adjust his clothes and clean up the aftermath between his legs. In a state of slight embarrassment but overwhelming satisfaction, he examined the soaked blanket—undeniable proof of the intensity of their encounter. The experience had brought him a level of satisfaction during orgasm that he had never felt before, leaving him in a state of self-reflection and contemplation.

She, too, found herself uncertain about the situation, aside from the fact that she had enjoyed it. Upon her return from the fresher, she climbed back into the top bunk. Her breathing still somewhat heavy, she felt a sense of peace mixed with exhaustion settling in.

She leaned her head down from the top bunk. "I enjoyed every moment," she said in a straightforward manner, as if feeling the need to set the record straight.

"I did too," he breathed back from below. It was a simpler response, yet an important one for him. Lying still in the bed, he felt more relaxed than ever.

Despite the night's craziness, it felt fulfilling.

#din djarin x original character #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin fic #din djarin smut #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin #din djarin fanfic #pedro pascal characters #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian #mandalorian #mandalorian fic

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lets-try-some-writing · 3 months

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okay but what about robots in disguise?? its not a favorite of mine but it’s still pretty good. russel and his dad are decent lol

Frag that show.

It disrespected TFP on every level and for that it has my eternal hatred and contempt. The humans were annoying, and I HATED how many interesting plot threads there were that were either done poorly or with so little tact that the writing team should have just scrapped it. The designs are tolerable, but I hate how canon TFP characters lost so much of their individuality in their designs (coughtheopticscough). Smokescreen is fricking GONE, which bothers me more than I care to admit. We see the rest of the team enough to be reasonable, but they all appear in ways that don't really make me happy.

Ratchet was done well enough in my opinion. I like his RID design. It suites him. Optimus's design can go die in a hole, they brutalized that mech. Same with Jazz. Frag those stupid shoulder pads.

Grimlock is fun, I appreciate Sideswipe, although his helm hair thingies I think need a redesign to make sense in relation to his alt mode. Strongarm was HORRIBLY underutilized and I hardly saw any character growth in her. Drift and his crew were interesting, but similarly not given much room to grow. I really liked Windblade for the most part, especially the episode where she tries to baby Optimus and comes out having relearned that Op is still a PRIME with MILLIONS OF YEARS OF WAR EXPERIENCE.

The Primes who've done nothing but sit on their rears had NO RIGHT to belittle Optimus at every turn. Nor did the show have the right to make him an idiot for the sake of making Bee look smarter. As @nova--spark has pointed out, the personality Bee got in the show matches Smokescreen better. Bumblebee wouldn't have SUCKED so much at the whole leadership shtick. What happened to all that skill shown in the movie huh? HUH WRITING TEAM????!??!?!

While I am on this train. OPTIMUS DIED SO GOSH DARN LEAVE HIM ALONE!!! He should have stayed deceased, or if they REALLY needed him back, he should have either returned as an Civi or came back with actual issues. Like dang hear me out mate.

Optimus is forcefully returned to life, beats the Fallen with his borrowed power, but then has to actually deal with the consequences of essentially being a walking bomb for a while. Make him start losing plating, make his frame HURT, make him slim down again into the TFP base design. Just, give him a reason to have to sit back and RECOVER. Not this whole half hearted limping around garbage. To add to that, don't baby the mech. Let him stay at base and fulfill the role Ratchet did in TFP. Let him use his knowledge to teach and offer wisdom, plan battles and locate enemies. For Primus's sake he could have gone undercover on Cybertron or something if they really needed him to go be useless elsewhere.

THEY COULD HAVE EVEN HAD AN ARC WITH HIM GIVING THE TEAM A WAKEUP CALL!!! SIdeswipe has no respect for the mission, Grimlock is a fool, Strongarm is too snarky, and Bee in this seems to have largely forgotten about the seriousness except for during key moments. They could have made Optimus a minor antagonist, forcing the team to follow wartime standards since they laid down this plot thread regarding issues between leadership styles and Optimus trying to take control of the operation more than once.

I would have paid money to see Optimus's wartime mentality show itself in the best and worst ways through how he worked with this group of non war vets on a Decepticon capture mission. Maybe even have him use lethal force once or twice, or at least hint at it so that people can be reminded that he is a mech who went to war, killed countless bots, and both drove their people to and saved their people from extinction.

Bee could have had to teach Optimus to calm down. He could have helped eased his leader out of his wartime mindset. Or following that whole council running Cybertron route, Optimus could have had his moment of being very much right when he points out WHY he fought at all and gestures towards the new council. There was SO MUCH potential in this show, so many good threads and interesting Decepticon character that could have given so much depth to the war and the aligned continuity as a whole, but they were almost ALL ignored.

*deep breath*

Alright, sorry about that. I have big feelings in regards to how dirty Optimus was done. Moving on, the Predacons were killed off supposedly and that pisses me off ESPECIALLY because it was done in a fricking offscreen setting. What the hell happened to Predaking??? WHERE DID HE GO????

Starscream's design was rad though, not going to lie.

Where is Shockwave? No seriously where is that fragger? After several years of the map he MUST have an army growing in a tank somewhere.

Soundwave. Why. ARe. YOU. HERE??!?!?!? I love you man but dang you are so out of place. He made sense in the context of trying to get to Megatron, but idk he felt like he deserved better. He should have been the big brain behind the Cons on Earth if you asked me. It would have made everything far more intense, especially if the Cons dont follow Decepticon creed as seen by Soundwave.

The humans were annoying. Sorry they just were.

Fixit is Primus's gift to RID and he's one of the few individuals who makes it less annoying. Idk, I just like him in reasonable doses.

WHERE ARE THE TFP KIDS?! WHY HAS BEE NOT CALLED THEM?? GOOD HEAVENS THERE IS A WHOLE SUBPLOT RIGHT THERE!!!

*yet another deep breath*

Apologies.

To put things simply, I would rather a group of fanfic writers put RID together than whoever the writing team was. They could have made a coherent story with deep characters that actually address the ramifications of millions of years of war and lingering functionalist mindsets. They would have done the lore and the world justice even if there were no main characters popping up.

I think RID has so much potential, but that almost all of it went right down the toilet due to either the higher ups sticking their noses where they don't belong or because the writing team couldn't go two minutes without retconning or otherwise destroying established everything.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #transformers rid2015 #lets try some writing mumbles #rant #bumblebee #team prime #optimus prime #bee team #post war cybertron #fic ideas #sorry but this frickin show made me so mad #I appreciated the ideas #execution deserved to be beheaded

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beansprean · 1 year

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He angy. This was supposed to be a loose fun AU with less linear story and less angst... Oops. Turns out there's so much plot. QTP is the comedy now.

My Familiar's Ghost Part 16

Masterpost

(ID in alt and under cut)

1a. Close up on ghost Guillermo on an ectoplasmic greenish background, looking shocked and distraught. He shouts, "You're giving up?!" 1b. Close up of Nandor with Guillermo floating in the background. They are in Nandor's crypt, Nandor facing the viewer with his back to Guillermo and the room as he focuses on tying a bow at the neck of his cream colored sleep blouse. He scowls down at the knot, declaring "We have no more leads! Clearly you chose not to return! I am not going to be chasing after you like a...like..." Guillermo interrupts angrily, throwing his hands down, palms out. "But I know I wanted to! I was coming home as soon as I was done turning!" 1c. Repeat. Nandor tips his head up and rolls his eyes back toward Guillermo, tossing one hand dismissively with the other still tangled in a half formed bow. He says, "So you changed your mind! That happens when you become a vampire!" Guillermo is frozen in the same pose, glaring with a stubborn set to his jaw. 1d. Repeat. Nandor's hands return to their task as his shoulders tense up, his head ducking back down as a saddened expression takes over his face. He continues, "You are filled with new power and freedom and you don't want the same things you wanted before..." Guillermo softens in the background, arms hanging as he glances away from Nandor's back, worried and pensive. 1e. Reverse shot on a blurred pinkish background. Nandor turns to face Guillermo and the viewer, bow neatly tied, with his hands spread out in casual supplication. With an easy grin, as if he were only making a casual suggestion any fool would take, he says, "But it is no big deal, right? You are still here! And you are dead already, so you will not age or die and you can stay here just like you wanted!" 1f. Reverse shot. Close up on Guillermo as he looks up in shock, taking on a pleading expression. He replies, "What?! No, no, I can't do that! I have to move on!"

2a. Shoulders up shot of both men in profile as they step closer to argue. Looking more confused than angry, Nandor shoots back "Why?! Why are you always so eager to leave? What is wrong with just staying home? Nadja's ghost is staying, so why can't you?!" Guillermo, fist pressed desperately to his chest, replies "I'm not like Nadja's ghost, Master, I can't!" 2b. Repeat. Nandor, furious and snarling now, snaps, "Why?!" Guillermo matches his energy, floating up to closer to his height and trailing angry threads of ghostly light, spitting, "I can't!" Nandor repeats with more emphasis, "Why?!" Guillermo shouts back "I can't! You have to find vampire me and-" Nandor cuts him off with a loud "No!!"

3a. Close up of Nandor from the front, background gone a dark and dangerous red. He is full of rage and hurt, glaring and baring his fangs as he points accusingly at Guillermo, hair flying around his face. He shouts, "You made your choice! And it was not me!" 3b. Matching close up of Guillermo on the other half of the panel, the ghostly aura around him flaring out in a deeper, brighter blue. His eye twitches in rage as he glares up at Nandor, teeth clenched together and eyes ringed in a spectral blue light. There is an audible snap as the thread of his self control breaks.

4. Zoom out to a high shot from a corner of the ceiling as Guillermo, for lack of a better word, explodes. Hunched in on himself, fists clenched, legs solid against the floor, he screams, "You were always my choice!" Spectral blue light erupts in a shockwave around him, brighter and more violent than anything we've seen from him yet, illuminating some kind of wriggling black shadow draped around his back like a cloak. Tendrils of black something snake all around the room like dozens of destructive little hands, guided by rippling waves of solid blue light that pulse from where Guillermo stands, toppling a nearby couch and armchair and sending framed paintings swinging wildly upwards. Throw pillows throw themselves up into the air. A wooden chair screeches back into a corner. Wallpaper tears itself apart and rolls up in fear. The coffin lid flies open, its heavy frame rocked back on one corner as if it weighs nothing. A chest of drawers bashes itself against the wall, books and candles and other knickknacks smashing together from the force. Nandor shields himself with his arms as a wave of energy hits him at the stomach and chest, sending him stumbling backwards. Swords and suits of armor are ripped away from their poses against the wall behind him to tumble against the floor. Chaos. /end ID

#wwdits #nandermo #mlm #my familiars ghost #ghost Guillermo #guillermo de la cruz #nandor the relentless #what we do in the shadows fx #what we do in the shadows #my art #fanart #image described

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asumofwords · 11 months

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Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: We are back with another chapter after Aemond has left and Aegon has been a seedy little cunt. Someone help the reader because Jesus Christ. I needed a bit of a brain rest so thank you all for your patience. I really don't want to rush this story or the plot, so as I have said from the beginning, this is slooooow (and realistic) haha! Thank you all so much for you constant love and kind words.

Enjoy! <3

Chapter 73: Surrounded

When you had reached your chambers, the world around you blurred, and your skin felt cold.

It felt like you weren’t in your body anymore.

It was an odd feeling of watching yourself that washed over you, body on autopilot as it moved about the chambers. You (though it did not feel it) sat on the chaise and stared into space, not moving, even as the maids came to check on you and offer you lunch.

You had shrugged them off, body feeling as though it was moving through a thick sludge, limbs heavy and finding resistance in the air. Every limb felt simultaneously weighed down by stones and light as a feather.

When the sun fell from the sky and the moon had risen to its peak, the girls had urged you to sit at the table, guiding you with caring, gentle hands, until you sat in your seat. You ate what you could as encouraged to by the girls, who seemed to worry for your wellbeing.

Bread and bits of meat was all you found you could stomach as you sat at the table, mind reeling from the interaction as you felt yourself slowly come to your body again.

As though you sunk down from the corner of the room where you had been floating in the corner, and slid back into your casing, threading yourself into your arms and legs like a coat or gown.

Slowly, but surely, you became present in the chambers.

And that was when the dread settled in.

Sleep well this evening.

The girls had readied you for bed, and you had paced the room when they left, desperate to keep yourself awake as anxiety loomed over you at his words, eyes darting over to the chamber doors constantly in wait of a head of wavy silver hair to enter.

You paced the chambers until you slumped in the chaise by the fire, feet aching and legs warm, stoking the flames with a fire poker to keep it alive and distract yourself.

Where was Aemond now?

Would he be in Harrenhal already?

Was he awake with the anxiety of what his brother could do in his absence?

Was he awake in the arms of Alys?

Or was he asleep? Uncaring and unbothered?

The thoughts kept coming as you spiralled in the chambers, their only purpose was that they served to keep you awake. The never ending streams of anxiety and ‘what if’s’ prolonging your evening.

You moved to sit at the windowsill and watched as the sun slowly began to rise.

The sky turned a soft purple and then pink, the room glowing warmly from the light. It was only then that you felt safe enough to retreat to your bed, climbing beneath the sheets and pulling them up to your shoulders tightly.

You kept your eyes on the doors, waiting for any sight or sound of entry until your eyelids grew too heavy to hold open, and they drifted shut from fatigue.

You did not dream, and your sleep was shallow and broken.

Noise in the chambers jerked you awake, and your eyes immediately darted over to the chamber doors.

They were closed.

You sighed a breath of relief, resting your head back against the soft down of the pillows, steading your racing heart. Your mind felt foggy and your body ached from your lack of sleep.

“A fine morning.” Came a purr from beside you.

Your heart jumped in your chest, body shooting up from the pillow as you scrambled against the back of the bed.

Two violet eyes watched you as you clutched the sheets to your chest.

He was here.

Aegon sat lazily in the chair beside Aemond’s side of the bed.

Watching you.

He smiled widely as you dragged the sheets up to your neck, brain reeling at seeing him in your chambers.

How long had he been here?

How long had he been watching you?

It was like Aemond all over again. How he had been in your chair in your chambers. How he had watched you sleep.

You notice the similarities between the two men.

The two brothers.

Your two uncles.

Cut from the same cloth.

Your breath held in your chest as you felt panic rise in your throat, freezing as he smiled widely at you. Aegon was dressed for the day; green robes and the Conquerors Crown already sat atop his head.

One leg sat lazily over the other as though he was comfortable watching you. Lounging as you slept.

As though he had been for some time.

As though he had no cares or troubles for being in your shared chambers at all.

“You whimper in your sleep.” The King mused, smirking at you.

Words were trapped in your throat, not able to break free as you stared at him.

Aegon waited for you to respond and sighed when you didn’t. He suddenly stood, hands pushing on his thighs to help himself up lazily as he straightened his back with a hum. Violet eyes drifted over where your body was hidden behind the sheets before he spoke again.

“Enjoy your day.” He grinned, leaving your chambers through the doors he came in.

A breath broke free from your lungs, followed by a sob of fear.

He had watched you sleep.

How long had he been there?

Did the knight let him in?

Your mind raced as you thought of it.

You were never safe.

But now with Aemond gone, you were unprotected.

Exposed.

He could come whenever he wished.

Aegon was King.

And there was nothing you could do, lest you endanger the treaty and yourself.

You did not leave your bed that day, moving between panic and shock, crying and spiralling. Your stomach turned and you felt your mind reel from lack of sleep and anticipation of what was to come.

You felt yourself slowly begin to crumble beneath the new pressure of Aemond’s absence, the only thing that was keeping Aegon away from you.

Every time you closed your eyes, you felt the cold stones of the cell beneath your back. You felt the skin that had pulled away as he dragged you towards him. You felt the way he had looked at you, feasting on you with his eyes. The way he had leant over you. The smell of his breath.

It unnerved you.

It terrified you.

It crushed you.

And all you could do was wish that Aemond was with you.

The soft echoes of Lucerys and Helaena rose and whispered in the back of your mind as shadows began to hide in your periphery, causing you to snap your head to see who was there, only to find the space empty.

It was as though your thread was unravelling and at a pace faster than you could grasp or slow it down.

The maids had come to the chambers and brought you food, though you refused it. They had placed your tea beside your bed with the honey and had insisted for you to just drink that, and that having something in your stomach was better than nothing.

The eldest of maids had even stayed behind and ensured that you had drunk the last of the tea from the cup before she left the chambers, leaving you alone with your immeasurable fear.

The day moved slowly, and nightfall came quicker than the last. You struggled to stay awake, sitting yourself upright in bed as you stared at the chamber doors, willing yourself to not sleep again. To not be bested by a man who drinks himself to piss the bed.

Sleep came in small bursts, yet as soon as you found yourself sinking beneath the surface of it, your body would jerk itself awake, eyes frantically scanning the room.

It was empty.

Another day flew by, and you refused to leave your chambers, instead sitting and thinking of what you could do, mind jumbled from lack of sleep, and the maids insisting that you ate at least some fruit and drank your tea.

You listened to the girls and drank the brew, adding two spoonfuls of honey as always, and nibbled on some freshly baked bread that steamed on the plate, and the juicy flesh of a star fruit. It weighed heavily in your stomach, and the meal only served to make you sleepy.

When the girls had left the chambers and begged that you call for them should you need anything at all, you had paced the room, feeling like sand that had been scattered amongst a shore. Thoughts moving forward, yet never quite moving in the right direction.

Do you send for the star fruit now? Whilst Aemond was gone?

You had no access to Vermithor which would come as a disadvantage.

You had no weapon or way out, and if your family did come to your call, the Greens would no doubt use you as a bartering tool.

A hostage.

And then you thought of Aemond.

How much longer would he be gone?

Do you send word to Harrenhal? Do you send a letter urging him to return? Would he receive it? Would he respond?

Would he even care?

There was no way of knowing.

And so as you paced the chambers sluggishly, you thought of the purple flowers again.

“My pretty head of flowers.” Helaena whispered in your ear, and you fought to not flinch.

Your aunt and brothers presence becoming more constant than before. Whether they be mere shadows in the corner of your eyes, silently standing amongst the chambers, or whispering words and secrets to you.

"Dracarys, mandia." Sister.

Dracarys.

Star fruit.

Vermithor.

If you sent word to your family came now, you could go to the garden before their arrival and take some of the Monkshood, hiding it up your sleeve, or in a napkin to hide in your chambers.

If they came now, armoured on the backs of their dragons, and the Greens came looking to use you, you could eat the flower, root and stem, just to be sure, and die a cowardly death for your family.

But you did not want to die at the hands of poison.

You wished to fight.

You wished to succeed in what you had come here to do.

Secure the throne.

“Pretty head of flowers. Pretty head of flowers.” She continued to whisper in your head, her voice unnerving you.

You shook your head violently, trying to dispel Helaena's repetition, yet she did not stop, voice only quietening in the back of your mind, repeating the same thing, over and over.

Merely sounding like the gentle whispers of a breeze.

The sun was at its peak when you decided to sit upon the soft cushion of the chaise, to give yourself a moment as you struggled to stop your body from swaying, exhaustion beginning to take over.

You felt dizzy and rattled, weakened from the days gone by and the constant chatter of your mind.

The moment you sat on the chaise your body sagged, head leaning back against the hard wood of the lounge as the rest sunk into the soft cushions.

You turned your head upwards and looked at the ceiling.

“Please Gods, give me the strength to do what I have to do.” You quietly prayed, hoping they would hear you. Hoping they would give you a sign, any sign, that what you were doing was right.

But the room stayed still, and you feared your absence to the Godswood had turned their favour.

Your eyes slid shut, and you told yourself that you could rest them, if only for a moment, and then go back to pacing. You just needed to rest them for a moment, and then you would get up once more.

But what if you couldn't get back up again?

How long could one survive their own mind without rest or food?

You supposed you would likely find out very soon, as you made a promise to not sleep until Aemond had returned.

You drifted into a chaotic dream, mind so exhausted and jumbled that it followed you to your sleep.

You were sat atop a dragon, soaring high amongst the clouds, the world around you tiny and dark, shrouded by large storm clouds. The robes on your body weighed you down, wet from the rain as you soared higher, dragon growling out into the rain.

You felt your hands be tugged and you looked down.

In your hands were reins.

Large thick rope pulling at your palms, burning them as it was tugged away from you. You gripped the rope to pull them back, using your entire body weight to slow the beast. A crack of lightning lit across the sky and the scales beneath you became illuminated.

Green.

A smaller dragon flew higher up into the sky as your dragon chased after it, your heart racing in your chest. The tiny dragon disappeared into a break of light and you yanked the reins back, trying to stop the dragon from its course.

“Keligon!” Stop, You screamed yanking the rope, feeling it rip through skin of your palms.

But the dragon did not listen and instead, you emerged from the clouds and watched in horror as Vhagar opened her jaws and bit the smaller dragon and the small boy atop it in two.

You began to scream, looking at Arrax fall to the earth below yours, horrified by what you had done.

You killed him.

You killed Lucerys.

You killed your-

“Y/n.” A voice called from behind you, your head snapping behind you in the sky.

The sky fell away and was replaced with the darkness of a cave, scarce lighting around you.

You were in the Dragon Pit, torches crackling against the walls, the air damp and cold. The sudden change in space making your heart jump in your chest.

You looked around, spinning in a circle, feeling familiarity from the dream.

You turned once more and there he was.

Lucerys.

The boy was wet with rain, hair slicked to his head, and covered in blood. His mouth opened, and from his lips poured a small rivulet pf blood that trailed down his chin to drip on the floor below. Brown eyes blinked tears of blood, staining his cherubic cheeks red.

His little hand lifted and you watched in horror as he pointed beside you.

A sob came from where his finger stopped.

Slowly you turned your head, eyes not blinking.

A woman stood beside you, her back turned to you, with silver hair matted and braided behind her head. Her body heaved as she cried loudly in the pit, dressed in a chemise and robe.

Lucerys stepped closer to move on the other side of you as you were rooted to the spot, not moving, and stared. But then your body had a mind of its own and leant forward, lifting a foot up to place it towards the woman.

You stepped forward as she continued to cry, body rocking back and forth, little hushed breaths of air falling from her lips as she swayed.

Lucerys followed beside you, the soft dripping of blood and water on his robes echoing in the space beside her sobs and the crackling torches.

A scream tore from your lips as you looked at her.

Helaena, pale and eyes red, rocked back and forth not looking at you as she cooed into her arms, where she clutched a small bundle to her chest.

A bundle which had small arms and legs, that were covered with pale yellow pants and a matching yellow jacket. But crimson stained the front of the clothes, spreading outwards like a flower in bloom.

Blood soaked Helaena's front where the stump of its neck sat raw against her as she continued to coo the body in an attempt of comfort. Tissue and muscle sat exposed to her chest, which continued to pump slow and steady streams of blood down onto its stained jacket.

The headless body of a child.

Jaehaerys.

You scrambled backwards horrified by the scene, trying to get away from them both.

Helaena’s head finally looked up to you, eyes rimmed with tears that flowed down her cheeks.

“He is coming.” She whispered.

Lucerys moved to stand beside her as they both watched you stumble over your feet, tears pouring down your face as you fled backwards on unsteady feet.

“Vējes naejot zālagon hēnkirī.” Fated to burn together, Heleana spoke.

“A crown forged of blood.” Lucerys replied, blood falling from his lips as he looked at the child in Helaena’s arms blankly.

“He is coming.”

You woke with a jerk, a scream escaping from you.

Your eyes were wet with tears and your heart rattled in your chest. You stiffened in the chaise as you looked about the room in search of Aegon.

The room had darkened and it was nightfall again.

Then, you saw them.

A head of silver and a head of brown.

Staring at you as they had a moment before, except this time, dry and unbloodied, body of Jaehaerys missing from Helaena’s arms. A sob flew from your lips as you brought a hand to your throat.

The chamber doors swung open and the knight stormed inside, the sound causing you to jump, gasp flying from your lips as you whipped around to see him.

“What is wrong?” He asked, hand on the hilt of his sword as he looked around the chambers in search of an intruder or whatever had spooked you.

The pair began to whisper in the corner of the room as they looked at you, their voices causing you to wince as you stared at the knight.

“A crown of blood.”

“Dracarys.”

“Pretty petals-“

The knight took in your appearance; The tear stained cheeks, disheveled hair and crinkled clothing, but most importantly the fearful eyes which widened at every hushed word uttered by two people he was not aware were in the space with them.

“I shall fetch the Maester.” He said slowly, looking at you.

“No... need.” Your voice broke, “All is fine.” You took a steeling breath, “I thought I saw a spider.” You used the back of your hand to mop the tears from your cheeks and neck.

The knight looked at you for a moment more before bowing hesitantly, as though he thought better of himself and would perhaps stay or send for the Maester despite your reassurance, but the look was short lived, and the man left the chambers with a turn of his heel.

The whispers of Lucerys and Helaena became louder as the doors shut, the knight unknowingly leaving you with them.

A silent sob filled the room as you stared at the two in your chambers, their whispers never stopping. Looking as though they were speaking to each other, the words hard to discern beside the odd familiar whisper here or there.

You sucked in a sharp breath and whimpered, forcing yourself to rise and move to the side of the chambers where the pair followed you like a shadow, standing at your side as they continued to whisper prophesies and commands at you.

Prophesies of what has happened, prophesies of what was to come. Commands to act.

To do.

Dracarys.

You poured yourself a large goblet of wine, throwing it back, basking in the sharp burning it brought to you as it slid down your throat. Another tear fell down your cheeks as you stood there, eyes trained on the goblet so that you did not have to turn and face your brother and aunt.

“Sister.” Lucerys called, and you whimpered at the sound.

Why? Why? Why? Why?

“Sister.” He whispered again.

Slowly you raised your head to look at him and Helaena, both watching you with impassive faces.

“Dracarys. A crown forged from blood.”

“Spool hen Kasta, spool hen Zōbrie.” Spool of Green, spool of Black, Helaena muttered.

“Another eye will close.”

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

@izzicle @ej-shitchats @may-machin @alegria1580 @witchy-jadda @videovampire @inkdelicious @queteimporta39 @virtualsweetsqueen @fo-cus @auratiqs @feyres-fireheart @queenofshinigamis @asoiafwh8re @teasandcrumpets @shesjustanothergeek @grungegrrrl@queenofsarcazm @marihoneywk @curlszx88 @virgogaia @loser-keiji @asoiafwh8re @whore-of-many-hot-men @vipervixxen @theonewiththeimaginaryboyfriends @watercolorskyy @lavendervisions @mazmack666 @chokefrog @orangejump-suit @nik2blog @serrhaewinin @ohemgeewhat @winxschester @cryptidsrcool @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @celestedonut @bloodyvelvet777 @iamapersonthatsalive @av-sos @yentroucnagol @sanzu-s @opheliaas-stuff @bellameshipper @maviee @persephonerinyes @neytiri-09 @ensnaredinwonderland @xbluegracex @sotragedynut @nattieot7 @shesawaywiththefairies-blog @coffedraven @prettycutebunny @celestedonut @the-jess-life @ssulfurr @out-of-life @madislayyy @crazylokonugget @cicaspair418 @katwmk @relminnie @milovart @teagrex @visenyaverse @bellameshipper @toodlesxcuddles @tempt-ress @dontmindmereading7 @qyburnsghost @55gyi53vtnquwziq5 @notnormalthings-blog @maidmerrymint @qyburnsghost @madislayyy @chelseaouat @hc-geralt-23 @daenerys-supremacy @rabbit-reveries @mari0302 @fallinglikeash @ivy-targaryen @nana-is-reading @kattirin @iameternallylonely @themadelinehatter

Bold is who I cannot tag!

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respectthepetty · 6 months

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Because when a color demon is summoned by @negrowhat and @mggsttn's post, I show up!

Top 5 - Color-Coded Storytelling in BLs

Y'all already know what number one is, but let's pretend you don't. Instead follow me on this journey into BLs that gave the best color-coded storytelling. In order to be considered for this list:

The story had to integrate the colors into multiple aspects of the series: wardrobe, lighting, accessories, setting, etc.

The colors had to be meaningful to the plot.

The narrative did not explicitly state what the colors meant.

The color coding had to be consistent and featured in each episode.

The series has to be finished.

So let's begin!

Honorable Mention: Oh No! Here Comes Trouble

This isn't a BL (yet it's queer, so anyone who says it isn't can argue with the ghosts), but that damn red thread of fate had me and Yiyong messed up all season! The appearance of the color red in the series was less of an alarm, and more of a signal that every single moment was connected. All those single red threads that Yiyong and his unlikely crime-solving buddies weaved each episode came together at the last minute not only to solve the crime, but to stitch Yiyong together and bring him back from the edge of death because the true message of the show about fate and dying was how connection is what makes life worth living.

#5 - Moonlight Chicken

Director Aof and Cinematographer Rath never miss, but this particular story being told in this series through the symbolism and lighting depicting moon vs. sun, coldness vs. warmth, dislike vs. love, and so much more was phenomenal. Watch the scene of Li Meng holding a crying Heart in Heart's cold, blue, dark room then witness the two kissing in Li Meng's warm, orange-ish, bright living room or watch the hatred and blue melting off of Alan as he begins to find love again and you'll understand that the color coding in this show wasn't just a simple red versus blue dynamic. This was the work of PROFESSIONALS. This color coding was like tiramisu made by the best Italian chef; it had layers and was effing delicious!

#4 - My Beautiful Man

This show did several visual devices oh-so-well. We got Hira always being lower than Kiyoi. We got the duck. We got Hira capturing Kiyoi with his camera instead of being present with him. We got traditional colors but with that Japanese twist. And all of the elements worked together to give us an elite visual story. Hira was blue. Kiyoi was white. Hira was the loyal and reserved servant. Kiyoi was a god. Yet this was the point of contention between the two. Kiyoi wasn't a heavenly being. He was a human boy devoid of love. He wanted Hira to love him, not worship him. He wanted Hira to stand with him, not lower himself. He wanted Hira to live with him, not through him. So we saw Kiyoi struggle with his color when he didn't feel stable in their relationship, but once Hira made it clear that he loved Kiyoi, Kiyoi never shined brighter.

#3 - My Love Mix-Up

Nobody does colors like Japan. It color codes its ties. It leans into the religious aspect of the light versus dark color scheme. It invents new ways to color-code and is always evolving . . . like Aoki's orange color did in this series. Our disaster bisexual started the series with a muted color and as he discovered he liked a boy and not the girl he originally was crushing on, his color started to emerge. At first it was a soft yellow, but by the end, it was a vibrant orange. Ida was a solid blue, so watching Aoki's feeling deepen for him was electric each time the blue lighting lingered on his face until it overwhelmed him. Oh, and that color exchange is the best that has ever been done!

#2 - Semantic Error

This show tricked us. Jae Young played us the way he played Sang Woo, yet Jae Young's true colors were revealed as the boys spent more time with each other because isn't that the entire point of color coding? Seeing people's true colors without having to be told? Jae Young started off as red solely because quiet and introverted Blue Boy Sang Woo HATED red. That was it! That was the entire reason Jae Young became red. He just wanted to piss off Sang Woo. But as the boys worked together and Jae Young's personality shown through, Sang Woo realized Jae Young wasn't the devil he made him out to be and was actually a pretty chill Green Guy who he wanted to hug longer than two weeks.

#1 - Big Dragon

The only reason 82% of the crowd decided to watch this show was because of the visual above. Let that sink in. This one visual piqued y'alls interest enough to watch a show about a guy drugging someone to have sex with him and blackmail him with the tape of it so he could *looks at notes* get the girl? A girl?! And the guy who was drugged, almost sexually assaulted, and blackmailed was *checks notes again* HE WAS IN TO IT?!

Y'all hated this show. I loved it. Y'all think it was ridiculous. I love it. Y'all are rolling your eyes right now. I will always love it because it understood the assignment! I can't keep repeating the same points over and over, but here I go again:

Everything was color coded!

And it all supported the story. It never distracted from the story. It never became its own story. It was laced into the story. It did exactly what visual rhetoric is supposed to - show don't tell.

And it showed me when Yai opened his heart to Mangkorn.

And how Mangkorn's love transformed Yai.

It showed me that Yai's sister was his only source of light living in that isolated house.

It showed me the warmth Yai felt from Mangkorn's mom.

And it showed me that no matter how much he protested, Yai was deep in love.

And to think it all started here.

And ended up here.

That's the power of color coding and remarkable visuals.

It makes you see the beauty is in the details.

#color coded boys in love #the colors mean things #color coded storytelling #I'll have a different answer when something better comes along #until then big dragon is always the answer #moonlight chicken #my beautiful man #my love mix-up #semantic error #big dragon

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oathkeeperoxas · 9 months

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TOP GUN / Icemav fic recs part 4

Hello my fellow icemav enjoyers, I bring to you more fic recs, freshly harvested from the local fields. If I list an author below, I also recommend checking out their profile for their other works as well!

Rec list 1 here

Rec list 2 here

Rec list 3 here

Where Are You Going by @adiduck

They’ve both heard all the philosophical bullshit, of course. Poems about your soul forever seeking its other half, impassioned treatises they were supposed to read in high school English about how you know where your own limbs are, quotes from long-dead guys about physical distance but hearts taking up the same space--that kind of bullshit. Maverick never put much stock in that kind of thing--he’d hated school. It probably shouldn’t have been surprising that Ice also really did not care about the science or philosophy--they were supposed to be perfect for each other, after all. (Or: There’s a handshake in the O Club the first night of Top Gun, and the very bearing of “magnetic North” shifts permanently under Ice and Mav’s feet)

Soulmate AU!!!!! This is so cleverly put together, the worldbuilding details are delicious and so very excellent, and the characterisation is on point. A very fun and enjoyable read 💖

Polaroid Picture by @betanoiz

man, we used to be brothers. superheroes and warriors. - The story of Maverick and the important relationships in his life, as told through photos.

The author plays with form through the use of pictures in this fic, using them to broaden the story and really show the character's relationships with each other. A very soft landing that hits all the right notes.

Ever Higher by @astolat

Maybe he wouldn’t have thought of it on his own, but soon as he’d heard about it—well, it was fucking obvious, wasn’t it? There was no other way to keep climbing.

I read this the first time, had to sleep on it, then come back to digest it properly. The author fits so much into every single sentence - the plot and the reveal hit you straight to the chest, no room to avoid it.

Mach 4 Mile High Club by @topgunreacts

In a civilian bar off base, Ice finds half-price drinks, trivia, and Maverick. The drinks he's expecting. The trivia he can handle. He isn't ready for Maverick.

This is just pure fun!! The back and forth between Ice and Mav builds deliciously throughout the story, the smut is top tier, and the finale lands just perfectly.

that’s what i love (about sunday) by @gracedbybattle

For the past few years, Ice has gotten used to the silence. But their house isn’t so quiet anymore.

Established icemav and the daggers can be so so good actually!! The domestic fluff here hits all the right notes.

Decent by @lambourngb

Ice was aware of the old adage, 'Don't Judge a Book By Its Cover', but he had seen Maverick fly, and now that they were teaching together, he was pretty sure he had Mav figured out. There were lots of reasons for Mav to be insanely confident; he had movie star looks, he had gifted hand-eye coordination in the sky, and he had no discernible shame trigger. Turns out, probably all of that was true, but Mav had one more reason for his swagger.

I have been converted to the Mav has a big cock agenda. Enough said.

Take the Long Way by @kerbyfullyloaded

Five times Iceman tried to get Maverick to come home and the one time he finally did.

This and it's sequel are so full of satisfying emotion - this author has such an excellent voice for the characters and it very much comes through in the prose!

Centrifugal Motion (Perpetual Bliss) by @brendaonao3

A month after the DADT repeal goes into effect, Ice finally gathers the courage to tell Mav he wants another chance.

The pining! The second chances! The yearning that threads its way through this, oh... so very soft and good 🥺

A Box of Love by @film-in-my-soul

It's black and embossed, a medium-sized thing with a careful label facing outward— Wedding, 2014. Jackpot.

Married icemav my beloved. The established relationship is written so tenderly and well, with an understanding between the two of them that I hold very close to my heart

#icemav #maverick #iceman #top gun #rec list #fic rec #tg #soooo many excellent fics in this fandom... i am being fed so well

124 notes · View notes

coffeehighallthetime-blog · 8 months

Text

I am kind, not Complacent chpt 1,{next}

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Word count: 4.9 k

Multi chapter

Heimdall gow x fém! Reader

hi all, this is a Heimdall x reader fic that I was inspired to write thanks to the very kind and talented @engardeitsme I want to thank you for reading my draft and encouraging me to share this with people.

synopsis: You are a little goddess of peace, alone for so long, fearing interacting with the outside world may just make things worse. odin hears of your existence and finds that you may be of use to him, but what will happen when he finds out that peace to you means freedom and fighting for what's right? what will he do as you, just a child, turn his allies against him? turn his son against him?

the reader will be a child for a few chapters, mute at times (spoilers) and the first few chapters will also be a back story before the events of Ragnorok, but we will get there as it is based on the game's plot! aka: Don't worry, there will be some adult pining as well, maybe smut??( idk what I'm doing) and you will see Atreus and Mimir, and Kratos and the rest of our found family.

please enjoy and let me know if you like this and want more because my plan is to write a pretty long story with multiple chapters and I enjoy positive enforcement :..)

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“Excuse me?” a timid voice whispered from the large wooden chest being hoisted between two winged warriors. The moonlight of Vaneheim shone through the keyhole, and YN could only guess the direction they were headed from her memory of the woods. She knocked on the inside of the box on the side of one of her captors. “E-excuse me?” she mumbled a bit louder, “ Um, where are we going? You shouldn’t take me too close to people. And I-it’s starting to feel a bit cramped in here-” A slam came from her left, cutting her off with a start and she held her breath.

“Shut your mouth, Serpent Tongue.” A voice of the Valkerie on her left boomed. YN sighed through her nose and sat silently, her little fingers squeezing into fists and resting on her thighs as she curled up tighter into the cramped chest. Her heart shuttered the farther they got away from her camp, and she could only hope that wherever she was going, she would be able to talk her way out of it and go back to solitude. It was best that way.

Suddenly, the marching of the two Valkeries stopped, and the rushing sound of wind and the screeching of ravens rang in YN’s ears.

The chest rattled, and sweeping darkness fluttered over the moon’s light streaming through the keyhole. YN shut her eyes tightly, covering her ears as the screeching and wings got louder and louder until suddenly there was silence. Not eery, or deafening, but somehow suddenly calm and warm. YN slowly uncovered her ears, willing her eyes to open even slightly. A warm stream of candlelight and the sweet smell of juniper berries and oak came from the keyhole. She slowly rolled onto her knees and peeked out to see where she had been taken. The room was vast and stacked from floor to ceiling with books. Scrolls lay sprawled across a large wooden desk, and she could hear a fire crackling to the left. The screeching of a chair’s legs against the wood floor took her attention, and as she tried to peek at who it was, she gasped; the chest being dropped about a foot onto the floor.

“All-father,” the Valkyries stood rigidly at attention, “We have captured the girl, as requested.” The bottom half of a blue robe, embroidered in intricate golden threads and beading was all YN could see come into view and she swallowed thickly as he stood only a few feet from where she was.

“Wha- she’s in there? The poor thing must be terrified, let her out at once!” He commanded, knocking on the top of the chest, “ I’m so sorry, dear child!” Odin apologized as the Valkyrie on the right unlocked the chest and both Valkyries lifted the top open. Inside, YN winced at the sudden flood of light and hid her face in her hands. Odin crouched down gently, resting his hands on the edge of the box. He waited patiently for the little girl to raise her head, peeking slightly at the man who just smiled down at her. “ I’m so sorry, child. I sent my valkyries because I knew they could be trusted with bringing you here unharmed, but I suppose I forgot to explain that you were to be treated as a guest,” he glared at one, “and not a suspect.” he glared at the other. They stayed unmoving, staring straight ahead. He sighed and turned his attention back to the little girl in the chest. “ You are here now, though, and you are safe now.” He said finally, reaching out a hand for her to grab. She stared at him for a moment and down at his hand, before slowly grabbing it and allowing him to help her from the chest.

“Thank you…” she whispered finally as she got her footing on the wood floor. She still couldn’t look away from their hands as she spoke again. “Am I… in trouble? I apologize if I’ve done anything to upset you.” she froze at the sudden booming laughter of the man in front of her.

“ Trouble? Of course not, sweet girl. But you are very well-spoken, may I just say!”

“Thank you, sir.”

“ You may call me All-Father.” he offered with a pat on her hand. She nodded apprehensively but responded in any case.

“Thank you, All-Father. You may call me YN,” she said instead, bowing a bit lower. Odin tutted and tucked a finder under the girl's chin, making their eyes meet.

“ Now, now. None of that.” he stood tall and with a wave of his hand, the Valkeries dismissed themselves, and YN and Odin were left alone in his study. Odin turned to walk back behind his desk and took a seat, ushering the girl to sit in front of him. She obliged, crawling onto the large chair and letting her feet dangle off the floor, barely able to see Odin over the desk. The man chuckled softly and leaned in closer, resting his elbows on a stack of scrolls. “Do you know why you’re here, YN?”

She thought for a moment before shaking her head. “No, sir. But I hope I can help in some way, so that I may return home. It is best you keep me away from others.” Odin chuckled again, pointing at her.

“That. That’s why—quite the negotiator. You are very well-spoken, YN, and you are so small. Did your family teach you such good manners?” he questioned, already knowing the answer.

“No sir, my family passed away long ago, I’ve been on my own for a bit now.”

“Hm… and how long is a bit?”

“ 3 years in the spring, sir,” she said a bit too quickly. She had been counting every day she had been alone since she could remember. She was truly just a tot when it happened. Only remembering the screams and the flame of her village burning to the ground. She remembered sobbing over her mother’s corpse and promising to never let any needless bloodshed happen again. She didn’t realize her grief was so strong it had cursed her with immortality and the responsibility to hold up her end of the bargain. And though she tried her best to learn and meditate, no one took a little girl asking them to stop fighting seriously. Godly rage in the hands of an emotional child caused more harm than good, turning entire civilizations into mindless drones. No bloodshed, but no soul either. She went into hiding soon after, thinking it better for people to fight for what they believed in, rather than being complacent.

“And you don’t look a day over 12 years.” Odin broke her out of deep thought and she only nodded.

“My… aging has slowed since my family has passed...” She spoke slowly, starting to understand the circumstances.”... you know who I am, don’t you, sir? What I am…” She simply watched as Odin stroked his beard, seeming to ponder what to say next.

“ I do…you are the young goddess of logic, strategy, protection…peace. You seek nothing but peace… And do you know who I am?” He questioned. YN paused for a moment, looking around the room before meeting his gaze once again, “ You are someone important… but I do not know beyond that, I am sorry…” Odin nodded again.

“ I am Odin, the All-Father. Kind of the Asir Gods. it is my job to protect Asgard and the rest of the 9 realms.”

“Odin…” The girl let the name linger on her tongue and realization made her go ridged. “Yes… Yes, I have heard of Odin… are we in Asgard? I thought it wasn’t allowed for people like me.”Odin laughed at this, shaking his head in amusement.

“Yes for our protection I have closed us off from the other realms. But you are a guest. You’ve been alone for a long time.” He stated.

“Yes, sir. I know nothing much outside of Vaneheim, and I have spent little time talking to people enough to understand what is happening in the realms. The easiest way to keep peace for me… is to keep space…”

“Mmh…” he hummed, hinting he wanted some elaboration. The girl nodded and continued,

“ I have found that when I speak… when I speak with people and I’m not careful… they become, uhm… empty?” she tried the word on her tongue, “they don’t act the same. Like ghosts just passing by each other. There is no war or hunger… but there is also no life…” she explained, starting to lose her train of thought. “I just don’t know what I’m doing…” she whispers finally. Odin nods and straightens himself to look down at YN.

“ I’ve been keeping my eye on you for a while, dear child. You seemed so alone, it was heartbreaking…Are you lonely?”

“Yes.” She spoke, without hesitation, not even quite realizing her own words until they rang in her ears. She stiffened in realization, but slowly relaxed into her seat, fidgeting with her hands. “Yes, I am…I don’t run into people much… and Skoll and Hati are a great company, but I miss… I miss my family…” she all but whispered at last, her lip quivering as she came to the realization this was the longest conversation she’s had in nearly 50 years. A blink of an eye in her immortal life, but long and unbearable just the same. She was, after all, only a child. Odin took a moment to listen and let the girl sit in silence before standing up slowly and walking up to her before crouching at her side.

“ I have been watching over you… and how deeply you care for every breathing creature around you so much that you find the strength to stay away is something deeply admirable. You are a very powerful, YN. And I think if you stayed here with me… I would be able to help you use your power to help Asgard build strong connections with all the realms, to create peace everywhere, without fear that you may be manipulating people with your words.”

YN looked up to meet Odin’s gaze and rubbed a tear welling up in her eye. The idea that she may be able to help so many people. May be able to stop needless bloodshed. And to do so without taking away people's free will. It made her heart thrum with hope for the first time in years.

“You think you can teach me?” she asked softly, rubbing under her nose. Odin smiled, resting his withered hand on her head. “Teach me to help people? To help build relationships and… and keep their souls whole?”

“With my help?” Odin asked dramatically, “ Absolutely.”

YN’s heart pumped fast in her chest and she couldn't stop herself from throwing her little arms around Odin’s neck, pressing her teary eyes into his shoulder. He stiffened, staring at the girl clinging to him, before relaxing with a chuckle and patting her back. She knew better than to trust strangers, but for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel alone.

“We will talk more soon, but now it is late. Let me show you to your room, There is a hot meal waiting for you, and we don’t want it to get cold now, do we?” He held her at arm's length by the shoulders and helped her whip her tears with the end of his robe. She could only nod as she tried to subside her gently sobbing and Odin stood tall, guiding her with a gentle hand on her head to the upstairs level of the lodge. It was mostly quiet, with gentle murmurs coming from a room here or there. The candlelight felt so calming and YN took this moment to just take in the grandness of the lodge.

“ It’s so big…” she whispered. Odin snickered and ruffled her hair.

“I suppose it is, isn’t it?” he stopped in front of a large oak door at the end of the hall with gold inlay and burnt carvings. He swung the door open to reveal and gently lit the room, Simple yes, but to YN? It was the picture of comfort. I fireplace in one corner, a large queen bed in the other piled with a stack of fine furs with a corner table. A bowl of stew steamed and being cooled by a light breeze flowing through the window. Finally, her eyes landed on two shelves, one full of books and one full of weapons.

“Weapons?” she looked at them quizzically. Odin simply nodded as he led her to her bed, pulling the small table closer so she could start eating.

“ yes. You will be taught to hone your brains, but every Asgardian god must learn to fight. It’s an unfortunate precaution. But it’s because I care so deeply for my family.” YN, swallowing a piping mouthful and staring at Odin with eyes wide as dinner plates.

“Family… me?”

Odin just smiled in return leaning town to tuck a stray hair behind the girl’s ear and kissing the top of her head.

“Get some rest, sweet girl.” With that, Odin walked to the door and bowed before taking his leave. As he shut the door and turned, he could see piercing pink eyes staring from the room across the way. “Heimdall?” he questioned, and was met by the embarrassed gasp of the little boy who had been caught red-handed. Odin sauntered over to the door and the door opened wider, revealing a young boy who looked about twelve, with a mop of golden blond hair and bright rosy sapphire eyes, freckles showing in the candlelight. The boy bowed deeply.

“I’m sorry, All father. I heard noises…different ones I mean.” He stated, not looking his father in the eyes. He seemed to wince now and then, as a barrage of noises and conversations pounded into his ears. Odin patted his head lightly and Heimdall looked up, trying not to show his nervousness. “Who is that girl?”

“A guest, Heimdall. She’ll be staying with us for a while.”

“A guest… do you think she can be trusted, All-father?” Heimdall looked nervously beyond his father’s figure, staring at the door and listening to what could be happening. There was the clinking of a spoon hitting the bottom of a bowl, the crackle of a dying fire, and a soft hum that seemed to soothe his trembling the more he focused on it. He looked back as his father chortled.

“ I suppose I’ll leave that up to you. She can be of great use to us as a mediator, and she seems eager to help if it means she can learn her powers. But only time will tell.” Heimdall nodded, wringing his hands together nervously as he spoke up again.

“ Do you think… we could be friends, All-Father?”

“Friends? My boy, I’m sorry but I can’t have you getting too distracted. It would be best if you could read her mind and be done with it. If only you were improving faster.” He tsked and Heimdall lowered his head.

“And besides,” Odin continued, “ She will have her own studies to focus on.” Heimdall’s shoulders drooped at the answer and he nodded, meekly. Odin sighed, pinching his temple in slight annoyance before putting on another smile and resting a hand on his Son’s shoulder. “Listen… I will introduce you two, and maybe I can have you two do some combat training here or there. This will allow you the opportunity to learn more about her; do some intel work for me, hm? But you have a very important role to fulfill, Heimdall, I can’t let you lose sight of that. Alright?” Heimdall perked up slightly and nodded.

“Yes, All-father. Thank you, All-father. I promise I won’t get distracted,” he bowed deeply and retreated behind his bedroom door. “Good night, All-Father.”

Heimdall spun from the door, his little bare feet carrying him to his bed where he tucked himself into his furs. He would learn more about the girl with the soft voice tomorrow.

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YN woke to the sound of bustling outside her door. She rubbed her eyes, listening to the heavy footfalls of leather boots and the clatter of daggers and axes dangling off belts. She took in the noise of people talking and shouting down the hall, the sound of sparing outside her window, and what sounded like staff calling out to each other while running errands. She rubbed her tired eyes, stretched her arms high above her head, and flopped deeper into the furs, opening her eyes to look at the ceiling. The more she listened, the more it made her nervous; the thought she was so close to so many people. Her lips pressed tight, she sighed through her nose to ease her nerves.

“ Just don’t try to fix anything…” She mumbled to herself. She didn’t know where she was and how long she would be here, and though Odin had been welcoming and explained that being locked in the chest was a gross misunderstanding, she couldn’t shake a feeling of unnerve hidden under the warmth she felt being in a soft bed and being fed kind words. She learned long ago to never trust first impressions, but being paranoid wouldn’t help either. She felt her body start to shiver but caught herself, frowning and smacking her cheeks lightly to knock out the nerves. “Everything will be fine.”

“Who are you talking to?”

“Ah!” she yelped and sprang up from her bed to see a maid had made herself comfortable in YN’s room. The maid paid no mind to the girl’s scream, simply walking over to the window to open it, letting a cool breeze in.

“I was wondering when you would finally wake up. Goodness, I only checked five different times this morning! The whole lodge is awake now and you are supposed to be at the training grounds in 30 minutes!” She was an older woman; round and soft with a simple dress that skated across the floor and a tattered apron covered in what looked like coffee stains and dust. She had rough brown hair with lightened streaks that showed her age. Crow's feet pulled at the corners of her eyes and she had permanent worry marks on her forehead. Despite that and her fast pace, she gave off a comforting aura that made YN feel safe. She hustled about, grabbing a shirt and a pair of trousers from a wooden cabinet, she set them on the bed and the girl's feet. “My name is Maliorn; you can call me Mal, Do not call me “maid” or I will smack you,” she warned. “Quickly now, grab these and come with me. I need to get you in the bath and dressed in 20 minutes.”

“Oh, ok, but-whoa!” The maid ushered her out of the hall and pushed her towards a grand bathroom. “W-wait I’m sorry I don’t understand can I at least-” YN yelped as she was shoved yet again.

“No time, we are far too behind for questions. Hurry, hurry, hurry!” YN felt eyes around staring at her, most likely because she was an unfamiliar face being corralled into a bath and trying and failing to get a word in. Before the maid slammed the door, YN saw bright pink eyes stare back into hers, the boy’s shoulders shaking in laughter at her. Her face flushed with embarrassment and she couldn’t do much but hide her face in her clothes. Mal huffed as YN simply froze and ushered her to the bath. “None of that now. I wouldn’t have to rush you if you had just woken up earlier. Clothes off please.”

“I didn’t know I needed to, I’ve never had a schedule before,” YN explained, pulling her nightshirt off over her head. “I’m sorry, Ma’am.”

“Just Mal, dear,” Mal stated, picking YN up from under her arms and dropping her into the bath. YN gasped, shivering and trying to crawl out before Mal pushed her back and poured a pitcher of ice-cold water onto her head, grabbing shampoo.

“It’s f-freezing!” YN whined, shaking like a leaf as Mal pulled her sopping hair from her face and scrubbed any grime from it.

“Tch, well it would have been warm if you were awake when I drew it.” Mal teased with a smile, pouring another pitcher of water to wash the suds out. After a more thorough scrub down than YN would have liked, Mal pulled her out of the bath, tossing her a soft towel. “Hurry and get dressed. If you are quick you may be able to grab some bread from the great hall before I take you to the training grounds. Do NOT,” mal pointed a finger at the girls forehead “ go to the great hall alone. Find me and I will get you something to eat.” With that, Mal slipped out of the room, most likely to run off and take care of her other duties while she waited for YN to get dressed. The girl finally took the first deep breath since she woke up and pulled on her black trousers and green tunic, tying in the back around her waist to stop any bunching. She used leather straps to tighten the cloth of her shirt to her wrists, as well as her trousers around her ankles. She wrapped a final piece around her hair into a ponytail and ran off to try and find Mal.

YN ended up wandering into the great hall, The smell of fresh bread and lingonberry jam, sausage and lamb roast, porridge and honey, and even sweet almond cakes made her mouth water. She followed it to a main table, crowded by people nearly stacked on top of each other. Warriors in the morning were desperate to eat their fill before going off to train, and as a result, there were stronger warriors at the forefront hoarding food while others pushed against the table to grab at anything they could find. This caused fresh loaves, cakes, butter, and jam jars to topple off the table in a waste, causing more problems of ‘I was going to eat that!’ and ‘You owe me a new pair of boots, worm!’.

YN was able to dissect the entire situation and how it could be fixed, but shook her head. ‘No’ she thought ‘I can’t intervene on my first day. I just need to grab something and leave.’ With that, YN tried her best to squeeze between the crowds of people swarming the table to get some food. She huffed and tried again to move past the large lumbering bodies, her heart beating faster as the crowd’s shouting made her lose her bearings. She started to panic at the yelling and lack of space and gasped as she was grabbed by the hair and yanked to the side.

“Oy, I’m not done yet, vermin.” A man sneered down at her, his face caked in the oils of sausage links and jam. He spoke with his mouth full, sputtering food, and cackled as YN whipped her face from flying crumbs before turning back to his food. YN scowled, feeling something primal bubble up deep inside her. Letting her frustration get the better of her, YN took a deep breath before tugging on the leg of the einherjar who had grabbed her not a moment ago. He whipped around at her, snarling in annoyance.

“What do you want, you little rat?” the man sneered. YN blinked her big eyes and smiled up shyly at the hulk of a man.

“I’m very sorry, sir, but I’m having some trouble getting to the food table. Don’t you think it would be better if everyone simply took turns grabbing what they needed and then taking a seat?” Her voice seemed to echo and carry through the great hall like a song, and the shouting and clamoring started to quiet as people listened to her “suggestion”. The man in front of YN seemed to get clouded vision as he nodded slowly, his features relaxing as he finally swallowed his food and moved to the side so she could get to the table, others following suit, humming in agreement at the suggestion. The girl smiled and grabbed a loaf of warm bread, breaking it open and watching the steam ripple from the inside. She hummed as she slathered it with butter and jam and folded it back closed. Turning back, she bowed slightly at the crowd slowly surrounding her.

“Thank you, now I will take my leave and let someone else go. See? Isn’t that much better?” the girl asked with a smile, going to suck some jam off her thumb.

“Yes… You are right. So sorry, goddess…” She froze at the title, her thumb still in her mouth. She quickly popped it out and shook her head. ‘I did it again…’ she thought in a panic. YN swallowed thickly and waved her hands in the air.

“N-nevermind! It was a dumb idea, do what you want!” In a split second everyone seemed to regain their senses. The warrior she had spoken to blinked back his foggy haze and focused back down at her, glaring.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing? I wasn’t done eating yet, you little runt!” She gasped as he reached out his arm to snatch at her, and yelped when she was suddenly pulled by her scruff from the crowd. She was all but dragged outside and whipped around to a panicked Mal, who grabbed her face and scanned her body.

“My goodness, are you alright?!” Mal sighed as the girl nodded and then put on a scowl. “I thought I told you to come find me. The great hall is no place for you to be going alone, they’re all animals in there. ESPECIALLY in the mornings! The bunch of heathens.” Mal scolded YN until she noticed the girl's shy form looking meakly down at her bread. She sighed and patted her head before putting a hand on her back and leading her towards the training ground. “Now now, no use crying over spilled milk. I’m glad you got something to eat, you’ll need it. Hurry and wolf that down while you can.” YN nodded and took a bite of her breakfast, humming at the soft texture of the bread and sweet jam. She looked towards the training grounds and focused on a small boy, about her age. His golden hair shimmered in the morning sun as he moved swiftly against his opponent, a large lumbering man with fiery red hair. The boy turned, feeling YN’s eyes on him, scowled as he met her gaze. The girl frowned in return. ‘What’s his problem?’ she thought, suddenly feeling anxious at having to interact with someone who held such obvious disdain on his face.

Heimdall clicked his tongue as he focused more on her, trying to hear her thoughts, but couldn’t focus when they were so far apart. He didn’t pay enough attention to dodge a blow to the back of the head from the man he was sparing.

“Ow!” he exclaimed, glaring up at his brother, “ Hey, I wasn’t ready!” he snapped. The young man rolled his eyes, tossing his hammer lazily in his hand. He was nearly seven feet tall and still growing. His hair was tied back in two braids and a bun, and the scruff of his beard was just long enough for a single short braid.

“Pay attention, brat. I have more important things to do than teach you how to swing a sword around. The least you could do is pay attention,” he looked down at Heimdall and smirked, “and stop making it so obvious you’re trying to read minds. It’s pathetic.” Heimdall gritted his teeth.

“I’m already more useful than you, Thor. All you’re good for is throwing your weight around!” he snapped back. Thor stopped tossing his hammer and instead harshly held it under his brother’s chin, making him strain to look up at him.

“Better than being a sniveling little monster who can’t even use his gifts without sobbing like a baby. Should I tell All-Father about a few nights back? When you wept for hours because “it was just too loud to sleep~” Thor made a mocking whimper as he impersonated Heimdall and his last episode. Heimdall shivered at the mention of the All-Father and what he would do if he found out Heimdall had been crying from the voices in his head again. Thor continued, “At least I do what I was made for. I can fight, and you can barely do that.”

“Yes, I can!”

“Oh yeah?” Thor looked over at the girl coming closer to the training ground. Odin had already told him he was going to be given another brat to babysit and was dreading it until now. He smirked as he looked back down at Heimdall. “That little runt has probably never fought in her life. I bet you can’t even beat her.” Heimdall looked back towards the girl and then up at his brother.

“Is that a wager?” he smirked. Thor snorted.

“Sure. if you can best her, I’ll tell Father you’ve been improving much faster these past few days. If you can’t beat her, then…” Thor strokes his beard as he ponders a punishment then shrugs, “I’ll tell the All-Father about your most recent tantrum.” Heimdall’s eyes widened and he shook his head.

“You can’t be serious!”Thor simply stood straight and crossed his arms.

“I mean, if you don’t think you can do it-”

“Of course, I can!” the boy snapped, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Thor snickered and held out his hand.

“It's a bet then.” Heimdall scowled and put his little hand in his brother's. He wasn’t going to lose to some little girl from who knows where. He was an Aseir prince. And no one would know about the things that keep him up at night. Not even the All-Father.

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#fiction #heimdall x reader #heimdall gow #gow ragnorak #gow odin #god of war x reader #fem!reader #gow x you #heimdall x you #i don't know what else to tag #@engardeitsme #i think thats it #let me know if i'm missing one #mute!reader #child!reader #child!Heimdall #I am kind not complacent #dance with me like the sun and moon

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ughkat · 5 months

Text

focus on me | l.r.h

part eight

part seven here

tutorluke! x fem!reader

a/n: { part 9 plot twist coming soon...}

cw: tutor x student, angst

not proofread

Monday

The hum of an air conditioning unit mixed with sporadic clicks of my professor's keyboard filled my dull classroom on a particularly gray morning. The weekend flew by, my overthinking and dissociation eating the time away.

"I'll see you on Monday."

The message flashed repeatedly in my mind for the past fourty-eight hours, trying to dissect the tone and intent. I rested my elbow on the desk beneath me, leaning my cheek into my hand. I absentmindedly tugged at loose threads on my hoodie sleeve, my eyes stuck in a daze on the blank white board in front of me. I wondered if Luke was actually going to show up, if I should just leave after class despite his assurance that we would see each other. My teeth met my bottom lip, I chewed anxiously as I questioned if I even wanted to face him, my nerves turning into insecurity.

I didn't want to imagine the stupidity and embarrassment I would feel if I stayed after class waiting for Luke, for him to end up not showing. My pen tapped the desk quickly, my hands finding anything to fidget with. My eyes darted to the clock, noting the ten minutes left of class and began to feel uneasy. My stomach was in a knot, no matter how much I tried to convince myself I was being dramatic, I couldn't help but panic.

Everything will be fine. He's a man, with a life. You have yourself sick over nothing. You're being ridiculous. This is stupid. He's not mad at you. Everything is okay.

I reassured myself frantically in my head, taking balanced breaths as the end of class drew closer.

I jumped slightly in my seat, the brief dismissal bell catching me by surprise, despite my eyes being glued to the clock. My classmates made their way to the door, ignoring my professors thrown in final words as they cramped the walkway. My thumb being chewed by my anxious teeth, unaware of my approaching teacher.

"Happy Monday." He grinned warmly, placing a brown leather satchel over his shoulder. I smiled softly at his friendly manor, nodding slightly at his greeting.

"Right." I muttered, returning the smile as he made his way out of the classroom, leaving me to myself. I glanced behind me at the door, peering out the small window in the middle of it, trying to get a peek at any approaching people. A heavy sigh left my lips, turning around and slumping in my chair with frustration. I shot a look to the clock. 11:02.

"If you're not here in eight minutes, I'm leaving." I muttered to myself quietly, crossing my arms tightly against my chest.

As if he heard me, the door latch behind me clicked abruptly, opening gently. I sighed deeply, keeping my eyes in front of me as I listened to the nearing footsteps on my left side.

From my peripheral, I watched Luke's careful frame pull a chair from the desk adjacent to me, turning it around and straddling it. His arms crossed on the back of the chair, only a few inches from my seat.

My eyes darted to the side, meeting his stern look briefly before returning them to my bare desk in front of me.

"Good morning." He spoke deeply, the silence in the room mixed with his low tone intimidated me more than I had anticipated

"It's not morning." I blurted out softly in a stutter, my obvious nerves making me sound like a fool. Luke chuckled through his nose, looking down at his hands crossed before him.

"What's the matter?" He hesitated before speaking, though his tone was genuine. I glanced at him, his expression softened. My eyebrows furrowed slightly, a part of me in disbelief that he truly wouldn't know why I was tense with him.

"I don't know..." I shrugged, "I guess I felt like you were avoiding me." I shook my head as I spoke, listening to how ridiculous I sounded speaking my paranoid thoughts out loud. Luke sighed deeply, his eyes leaving mine.

"I didn't mean to." He began, adjusting himself in his seat. My face twisted slightly at his choice of words, though I stayed quiet as he continued to explain, "I don't think you could understand my reasoning for any of this." He brought his thumb and index finger to the corners of his eyes, scrunching his face with frustration. I shook my head, uncrossing my arms slowly.

"What does that even mean?" I scoffed. Luke sat up in his seat, placing a hand on the desk in front of me.

"It's just... My problems. About this." He motioned with his hands at the two of us, "They're too big for you." My confusion on grew the more he spoke, though I could only infer that he was calling me too immature or unintelligent for his thoughts on our situation.

"I'm not an idiot, Luke." I turned to face him, looking at him sternly.

"Y/n, that's not what I mean, you know that." He shook his head with purpose, his face still scrunched with stress.

"I don't, though. I don't know what you're trying to say." I exclaimed at a quiet shout, tossing my hands up with frustration. Luke wiped an anxious hand over his face, letting out a deep sigh.

"You." He leaned an elbow on the desk, his pointer finger centimeters from my face. His words warm against my skin, "You're not good for me." He spoke deeply. I made a face of confusion. I was beginning to get deja vu.

"Luke, we talked about this already." I watched his expression closely as he spoke.

"No." He interrupted me, "I need you... More than this." He motioned with hands to the room surrounding us, "This, meeting only in secret and during sessions thing isn't working for me. I need you. All of you. All the time." He rambled.

"...What are you saying?" I spoke carefully, tilting my head. Luke's eyes met mine.

"I'm going to end up having to choose between you, or my job." He breathed. I slowly began to understand his words, realizing we were on the same page about our feelings towards each other. I agreed, I didn't want to just see Luke in private. I wanted to go out with him, be public with him, show him to my friends. I needed him. However, I knew he would choose his career over a crush.

"I'm sorry." Was all I could muster. My frustrated eyes shot down to my hands in my lap, I began to feel choked up with frustration and anxiety. Luke frantically scooted closer, placing a hand on my knee.

"Hey." He soothed, "This isn't your fault. It's mine. I was unprofessional." He murmured.

"Why is it wrong?" I argued, "I'm not some stupid kid. I know what I'm doing. Who cares if you're a tutor. Why is this wrong?" I ranted angrily. I believed every word I said, I felt that it was unfair that two consenting adults couldn't form their own relationship, due to one of them working at the school the other attended.

"They can't bend the rules for just us." Luke sighed. The silence was deafening. The two of us sat tense, gathering our thoughts.

"I don't know what to do, Y/n." Luke spoke pathetically, his tone desperate. He looked uo at me through his lashes with obvious disappointment. I hesitated speaking my mind, biting my lip before my words escaped before I could think.

"What if I drop out..?" I spoke quietly, avoiding eye contact with the man beside me. Luke craned his neck forward, leaning in closer.

"What?" He asked in disbelief, praying he misheard me. I swallowed the lump in my throat with a sigh.

"If I don't go here, they can't get you in trouble for being with me." I spilled. Luke furrowed his brows, his mouth slightly agape.

"Please, don't be ridiculous, Y/n." He whined, "Do you hear how stupid of an idea that is? That's your solution? Drop out of school?" He pressed, his tone full of caring anger.

"What else is there, Luke?!" I spat, "We just cut each other off, act like we never met? Is that what you want?" I exclaimed.

"Of course not!" Luke stood from his seat, matching my tone, "But, Y/n, I can't think of anything else logical to do!" He annunciated with his hands.

"I don't even like school, there's no point in me being here anyway." I griped, sinking into my chair.

"You're being ridiculous." Luke scoffed, "Do you see where you are? Do you understand the privilege you have to be going to this school? How many people would kill to be in your position? Yet you wanna give it all up for me. Listen to yourself." He raised his voice, speaking dramatically with his hands. I shook my head with anger, yet mentally agreeing with every word he spoke.

The tension was cut in half by the unexpected and premature arrival of my professor, entering the class ten minutes early. The cold vibe in the room was obvious, my professor giving both Luke and I a look as he entered.

"Afternoon." He smiled suspiciously, making his way to the desk, "Everything okay?" He spoke, noticing the lack of instruments in mine and Luke's arms.

"Uh, yeah." Luke forced a chuckle, "Focused on listening to some classic guitar songs today, took a little break from playing." Luke quickly came up with a lie, I couldn't tell if my professor bought it.

"Great." He nodded, opening his laptop to tend to his own work. Luke glanced to me, both of us telepathically asking each other what to do, but both leaving the question unanswered. I looked to the clock, noting the five minutes left, and decided to free myself from the extra stress of waiting. I gathered my bag, giving Luke a final look as I stood up.

"I will see you tomorrow." I exaggerated my words, looking at him deeply before exiting the room.

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melanieph321 · 9 months

Text

Ruben Dias x Reader - Try Me Part 4/6

Summary - A six part series where reader is a very passionate football player and Ruben is her new and equally passionate football coach. However, the two of them can't seem to get along.

Enjoy!

It was getting out of hand now. You told your teammates that you've deleted your fake Tinder profile, however, that was a lie. You had to lie, especially since the message thread between you and Ruben had totally escalated. He was asking you personal questions now, about your favorite color, about your plans for the future. Christina 25, as your fake profile was called, liked to ski in the alpes in December, read heavy books in front of a fire and oh, devour juicy eggplants in the evening.

Ruben didn't hold back on details about himself either. He had reaveld that he was coaching a women's team, that his favorite animals were dogs and that he'd have you crying out his name after five minutes in bed with him.

It was all getting very out of hand. But you couldn't stop yourself from replying to every last one of his messages.

"Y/N?"

"Huh?"

You were snapped out of another set of daydreams and of course he had to be the one to snap you out of it.

"I said, do you need help with your bag?"

"My what?"

You were a bit confused, standing before the team bus. The team had a series of away games coming up and you had spent the previous days stressing over who was gonna look after Mimi when you were gone. Eventually you got a hold of her aunt, who said she could take her for the two nights that you would be away. This lifted a huge weight off your shoulders, allowing you to focus on the games ahead and Ruben....who still stood waiting to help the chauffeur load your bag onto the bus.

"My bag, yes!" You shuffled it his way, quick to get on the bus and hide your face.

"Ladies listen up!"

"Hold up everyone, coach has got a speech." The girls laughed.

Ruben was the last person to step on the bus.

"I'm just setting some ground rules." He said.

"Lay it on us coach!"

"Well firstly, we have two important games ahead of us. We're in the middle of the knock out stages and the rules are simple, if we win we stay, if we lose we go. With that being said, all I'm asking is for all of you to be on your best behavior this weekend. Even if we're staying at a fancy hotel this is not a vacation, we have a job to do, am I clear?"

The girls let out displeased groans. "Can't we at least hang around the pool, or enjoy the all you can eat breakfast buffet?"

"Look, I'm not your parents, but if I were, I would ask you to make smart choices this weekend, alright?"

"Yes daddy!" Someone mumbled.

You sat back with your headphones on, the rocky movment of the bus on the verge of putting you to sleep.

"Y/N, will you switch seats with me?"

It was Hannah, your teammate, interrupting your zen.

You removed your headphones. "What?"

"I get road sick. But I can't sit all the way up front. It's making me dizzy. Can we switch seats so I still have eyes on the road?"

"Fine." You sighed and gave up your seat.

No one wants to sit up front with the chauffeur, no one but....

"Y/N?". Ruben was suprised to have you appear at his side. He had also been wearing headphones, but were quick to remove them at the sight of you.

"Is this seat taken?" You asked. "Hannah doesn't want to get road sick but I don't want to sit next to the driver so..."

It took him a second to comprehend. "Oh, right. Yes." He removed his bag, placing it between his legs, making room for you to plot down next to him.

"Thanks."

You hadn't been this close to him since your last one on one during practice. The smell of him returned to your nostrils, but with less grass and more aftershave this time. It was still a homily smell, a smell that made you want to lean closer to him, however, you probaly shouldn't.

"I heard coach went on a cruise to the Bahamas." You said, initiating the obligated small talk between the two of you.

"My uncle, yes. Him and his buddies got the senior citizens discount."

"Just tell him to stay off the buffé table."

Ruben chuckled, followed by a comfortable silence between the two of you as you surrendered to the movment of the bus.

"How's your sister?" He asked, breaking the silence, picking up where you left off. But only because you had offered him half of your protein bar. To your surprise he hadn't declined.

"She's staying with her aunt this weekend, so that's good."

He nodded, "Good."

"Ruben there's somthing I got to..."

A sudden commotion in the back of the bus stopped you from telling him the truth. You were gonna do it. Ruben should know that it's you who had been messing with him on Tinder. But only because you weren't messing with him. You really liked Ruben. Really really liked him.

"It's Hannah." One of your teammates said, running up the aisle towards you and Ruben. "She threw up coach, what should we do?"

Ruben looked to you and you looked to him. He seemed sorry not being able to finnish the conversation between the two of you.

He sighed getting up and out of his seat.

"Driver, stop the bus!"

********************************************

Arriving at the hotel, Ruben ordered for everyone to go to bed early.

"We'll have a light practice session ahead of the game in the evening tomorrow." He said.

You would go on to win that game, 2-0. With you scoring the first goal and assisting the second one. You won the next game the day after that, 3-1. However you failed to score a goals and missed a crucial penalty.

"Y/N, are you coming?" Sarah asked. She had been your roommate for the weekend. Ruben allowed for the team to celebarte your latest victory as long as you stayed close to the hotel. However, you weren't in the mood to celebarte anything. That penalty you missed really got to you and so you rather stay in for the night.

"Nah, I'm good." You said.

"Suit yourself." She shrugged, leaving you to your computer and bag of crisps.

Princess and the frog, that movie should get your mind off things.

You fell asleep half way through it though, the buzzing of your phone pulling you out your slumber. A notification from Tinder, from Ruben 26 to be exact.

Just the sight of his name made you sit up in bed, a new found energy within you.

You looked to the bed next to yours, Sarah hadn't returned yet. Why was Ruben still up? Was he out celebrating with the others? Tapping to open the message thread, you smiled at what was written.

Ruben: "Had a tough day today. Could use a hug."

Christina: "Me too actually, wish you were here."

In that moment you really meant it. If Ruben would've come knocking, you wouldn't hesitate to wrap your arms around his waist, pressing your face against his abs.

Looking down, phone buzzing in your hand, you received another message from him.

Ruben: "We should meet sometime?"

Christina: "That's probably a bad idea."

Ruben: "Why?"

Christina: "I don't think you would like me as much in real life."

Ruben: "Won't know until I found out."

Christina: "I'm sorry Ruben, I just can't."

Ruben: "Don't sweat it, I get it. Tell me why you needed a hug today?"

You typed the message but hesitated to send it. Then you went back and refrased it.

Christina: "I made a made a mistake and let people I care about down."

Ruben: "Everyone makes mistakes, so what?"

Christina: "Not me. I don't want to."

Ruben: "Then you don't want to be human."

He was being sweet, too sweet, you thought. You convinced yourself that that is why you did what you did. Because Ruben was being sweet to you and you wanted to thank him.

You pulled the bed covers off your legs, revealing your missmatched socks. You then raised your hips to roll your oversized t-shirt up and above your waist, the flashlight on your phone finding the bright red of your panties. You clenched it harder in your hand, your phone, eventually setting up the camera and pressing record. The video only lasted thirty seconds, but it was enough to show your hand slip down your panties, causing your legs to stir. You hesitated reviewing the footage before pressing send, but once you saw that Ruben recived the short snippet, you were curious to know how it came out. It was hot, too hot, you thought, regretting having pressed send. Mostly because you hadn't been aware of the noises you were making in the background, the muffled up moans and quiet whimpers that left your mouth as your hand rubbed your clit.

A slight panic followed, perhaps Ruben would recognize the sound of your voice, not that you've moaned in his ear before.

Ruben is typing...

"Oh, no." You gasped, as the vibration of your phone announced just that. Ruben had seen the video and now he was responding.

It was a short response, short but clear.

Ruben: "Fuck Christina! How am I supposed to go to bed now that my dick is hard? Shame on you!"

You bit your lip, beaming at the screen.

Christina: "Oops, my bad. Hopefully you can take care of that big big problem."

You shut your phone and hid under the covers after sending that message. You had to. Your relationship with Ruben had officially entered strange waters, no point of return.

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#fanfiction #man city #football imagine #manchester city #ruben dias #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias imagine #footballer x reader #football #football x reader #footballer imagine #football angst

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