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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 7 months

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What is Broken I (Aemond Targaryen x Pregnant Wife!Reader)

The war, the "Dance of the Dragons," as they have come to call it, is over. And yet, you are not celebrating. You have just learned that your husband, Prince Aemond, spent the last months of the war with another woman in his bed. Not only that, but his mistress is pregnant. Just like you...

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (third person, no use of Y/N), side Aemond Targaryen x Alys Rivers

Warnings: Angst, pregnancy and related symptoms, infidelity, some pushing and hitting

Author's Note: It's finally here! Sorry y'all, this month a) I found out my dog has terminal cancer, b) I got covid, and c) my laptop randomly went kaput in the middle of an episode of the West Wing. But it's finally here! As it says on the taglist, this will be a three-part series.

Taglist is done via reblogs

What is Broken

It was a lovely night in King’s Landing.

There was not a cloud to be seen for miles, and the stars were bright and twinkling. The waters of Blackwater Bay were calm and reflected the full moon as clearly as a freshly polished mirror. Even the wind seemed in a pleasant mood, carrying the sweet scent of spring on its back as it drifted lazily through the windows of the Red Keep.

Every bit of it grated on her heart like a whetstone across dull steel.

The worst night of one’s life should not be so lovely, she thought. It should be terrible. With storms and an angry sea, and perhaps even a raging fire somewhere in the distance.

If the night had been so, she would not have seen it when, only a few moments ago, a massive winged form landed in the fields just outside the city with a lowing wail, the last person she wanted to see strapped to its back. Thankfully, Aemond was far enough away that she could not make him out against the mass of his mount.

The people would cheer him in the streets as he rode toward the castle. The victorious Prince, returning after long months at war, having not only ended the war itself but avenged the deaths of his eldest sister, brother, and his little nieces and nephews.

Daemon Targaryen and his dragon had perished above the God’s Eye, the waters below boiling when their bodies fell into its depths.

With the Rogue Prince gone, the war was swiftly over. Rhaenyra was killed, her last remaining son taken as King Aegon’s ward, and the royal host returned to King’s Landing victorious. Even Cregan Stark had agreed to halt his advance South, redirecting to Harrenhal for peace talks.

Harrenhal. A cursed place, now to be the site of great diplomacy.

Even thinking about the horrible castle was enough to turn her stomach.

A letter detailing exactly what had occurred within those melted stone halls during the war, written by the late Prince Daemon himself, sat on her vanity. A final act of retribution against his soon-to-be killer.

She knew that her husband was only returning home because of the letter.

My dear Princess, Despite the conflict between our sides of the family, I have always thought you a rather sweet girl. Therefore, it is with the deepest regret that I must now shoulder the burden of informing you of your beloved husband’s improper conduct during this awful conflict…

A pang of nausea shot through her stomach as she remembered the words.

A mistress… some Strong bastard… called Alys, my spies tell me… every night, without fail… from the very first week… another bastard babe in the whore’s witchly womb…

There was a pounding from within her, soft thumps and kicks as the life inside her own womb became unsettled by its mother’s roiling emotions. She laid a hand over her belly, whispering soothing words she did not believe to try and calm it – and herself.

Once, she would never have believed Daemon’s stories. But then word came that, after the final battle, Aemond returned to Harrenhal for less than an hour before he again mounted Vhagar and flew for King’s Landing. It was not like Aemond to make such swift decisions. Nor did it strike her as the action of an innocent man.

When she called for Ser Willis Fell, her heart had been filled with hope that the new Lord Commander of the Kingsguard would dispel her worries. That she had only allowed herself to consider the possibility of Aemond’s infidelity because her mind was addled by her delicate condition.

“My princess, I cannot, in good conscience, tell you a lie…”

She had screamed then. And cried. And possibly thrown things at the Kingsguard, but she couldn’t entirely remember.

All she could remember was how Aemond kissed her on the day he left for Harrenhal. Deeply and passionately. Until she could feel his love for her as clearly as her own heartbeat. Then he knelt before her and placed a single, tender kiss to her belly, to where they had only just learned that their babe grew.

Less than a moon’s turn later, he had taken another woman to his bed, and seeded her, too.

Now he was returning home – in haste.

He knew, then. That Daemon had let slip his secret. Perhaps it had even been the Rogue Prince’s last words. Spat in Aemond’s face in the seconds before his body tumbled into the lake below. Had she not been caught in the crossfire, she might have admired it for the masterful manipulation it was.

But in seeking to destroy Aemond, Daemon had destroyed her as well.

She was broken from her thoughts by the distant sound of people cheering. Aemond was making his way through the city more quickly than she thought. The streets weren’t as crowded as she hoped they would be this late at night.

It was late. Far later than she had become accustomed to. These days, she was often in bed and asleep not long after the sun had set, hoping that she would somehow find a full night’s sleep. Never to any avail.

For a moment, she thought of slipping beneath the blankets and pretending to be asleep so she would not have to speak to Aemond until the morning. But he would only crawl into bed with her, and then he would see when she inevitably woke…

That was not a conversation she wanted to have today. Really, there was no conversation she wanted to have with Aemond, only that which must be had.

She was resolved that Aemond would not find her weeping or stewing in heartbreak. No, she would not let him think he held such power over her, even if he did. He always had, even when they were young children.

So, she resumed her nightly routine as though nothing was wrong, as if she was entirely unaffected by his betrayal. Sitting at her vanity, she began to unbraid her hair. Her maids usually did it for her, but she had dismissed them the moment she read Daemon’s letter, not wanting to see their pitying faces for longer than she had to.

Since learning she was with child, everyone – including her maids – fussed over her constantly. It was not without reason, she knew. There was indeed very good reason why everyone was so concerned about her. But after six months, she was tired of it.

Just the simple act of taking her braids out and brushing through her loose hair by herself brought a welcome feeling of independence that she had not felt in some time. Perhaps ever.

That feeling slowly faded away as the cheering and celebration from the city came closer and closer, until she could hear gauntleted hands clapping in the castle courtyard below.

Aemond was here.

Her hand fell to cradle her stomach and was immediately met by three quick thumps against her palm. She knew the child did not understand what was happening and was only responding to the touch itself, much in the same way a cat arches its back when petted.

Still, it comforted her. It made her feel like she was not alone.

“Kirimvossi, rūhossas,” she whispered with a smile before resuming brushing her hair.

Her smile did not last.

Sooner than she had hoped, she heard the clanking of armor as the guards outside her door straightened, bowed, then retreated.

A shiver went through her, stealing the air from her chest while cold gathered in her heart and began sinking to her stomach. Dragging her brush through her hair suddenly took great effort, as did every breath.

Yet it was surprisingly easy to banish the tears forming in her eyes and school her face into tired neutrality. To glance only once at the figure now lingering in the doorway before turning away without acknowledging him.

She did not know if it was strength or cowardice.

He called her name, his voice rasping and low – desperate. “We must speak.”

She did not respond. She didn’t even look at him.

Aemond sighed, calling her name again. “Please, my love. Look at me.”

Still, she did not move.

“Ābrazȳrītsos,” he said, a hint of command slipping into his plea. Little wife.

He had always loved calling her little. According to their mother, the first thing Aemond did when he saw her as a babe was exclaim, “She’s so little!”

Ever since, he’d been calling her little.

First, she was simply hāedus. Little sister.

Whenever she tried to follow Aemond when he went somewhere she wasn’t allowed or did something she wasn’t allowed to do, he would gently scold her, “Haedus, you’re too little.” Inevitably, she would cry. About half the time, her crying was enough to sway him.

Then, she became zaldrīzītsos. Little dragon.

“You’re my zaldrīzītsos,” he would say when she hugged him tightly after Aegon or one of the Strong boys mocked him for not having a dragon. She didn’t have one either, but she never felt she needed one, for she had Aemond.

For a time, she was maegītsos. Little witch.

Aemond had dubbed her so when she came to visit him in the Maester’s tower while he recovered from the loss of his eye. The Maester would give her some “special leaves” so she could brew a “magic potion” to help Aemond get better. In truth, the potion was simply tea. But Aemond always pretended that the potion had indeed worked miracles, just to make her happy.

Once he was healed, she was again zaldrīzītsos.

Since he finally had a true dragon, she worried that he would not want her anymore. When she came to him in tears one day as he was leaving the Keep to see Vhagar, he hugged her tightly and told her, “You will always be my zaldrīzītsos.” Then he brought her with him to ride Vhagar. It was the best day of her life.

Or it was, until the day they were officially betrothed, and she became raqiarzītsos. Little darling.

It was what he would call her every morning when he greeted her with a chaste kiss on the cheek. How he would summon her to his side at court events. What he moaned when they kissed unchastely each evening before saying goodnight.

She had been so excited when she became his ‘ābrazȳrītsos.’ The first time he had whispered it in her ear at the wedding feast, she’d blushed so brightly that their grandsire inquired about her health. The next time he said it, Aemond made sure they were alone.

Little sister. Little dragon. Little witch. Little darling. Little wife.

Always little.

Once, the names had made her heart flutter with delight. Now, they only prompted another wave of nausea.

Aemond was everything to her – he always had been. She thought he felt the same way, but it seemed she was wrong. To him, she was just “little.”

She flinched at the sound of his voice, of that word. How he spoke to her like she was some frightened animal poised to lash out.

Yet at the same time, her heart melted to hear the voice she loved so dearly after so long an absence. Merely the sight of him in the mirror sent a feeling of warmth and belonging flooding through her.

She hated him.

She loved him.

She was angrier at him than she had ever been in her life.

She wanted nothing more than to run into his arms.

She could do nothing but continue to brush her hair and stare into her reflection.

Aemond sighed, finally stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him. “You won’t even look at me, ābrazȳrītsos?”

She gave no answer.

He whispered her name again, “Abrazȳrītsos, please,” Aemond’s voice turned quiet as he reached her and set a hand on her shoulder as if to turn her around by force, but she wrenched herself out of his grip, staring down at the floor. Though she did not look at him, she could almost feel the misery on his face. “Please look at me.”

“If I look at you, I fear I will be sick,” she explained weakly. “I don’t want to harm the babe.”

His irritation began to surge, she knew it even without seeing him. His breathing quickened slightly, and she could hear the creaking of leather as he rolled his shoulders and balled his hands into fists – he had been so hurried he had not yet taken off his riding gloves.

“You are my wife,” he huffed. She could hear him attempt to contain the sharp edge of barely contained anger in his soft voice. At least he was considerate enough to hide it. “You are my sister – my blood. You love me as I love you, and you carry my child within you. Yet you cannot even look at me?”

Fury roared to life like a surging flame within her. How dare he be angry with her when he is the one who ruined everything?

“Why did you come back?” she spat back, quietly yet viciously.

His stare continued to weigh on her through the mirror. “I promised you the day I left that I would return to you when the war was done,” he said, half-smiling at the memory. “The war is over, so here I am.”

She shook her head. “The war is not over.”

“Of course, it is. Daemon and Rhaenyra are dead, and – ”

“The fighting is over,” she corrected. “But the war is not finished. Peace must still be brokered. As Prince Regent, that is your responsibility. Yet you are here rather than with the rest of the soldiers and politicians at Harrenhal. Why?”

She wanted him to be the one to say it.

Aemond sighed, raising a hand to touch her, then pulling away. “Is it so hard to believe that I missed you and simply couldn’t stand to stay away a moment longer?”

She was moving before she could process what she was doing, standing from the vanity and turning to face Aemond, her hand raised and ready to strike.

But he caught her arm by the wrist, stopping her moments before her palm could impact his cheek – his scarred cheek. His eye was wide, filled with sadness and shock in equal measure. He turned to look at her hand as if it was some kind of curiosity he had never seen before, like he couldn’t understand how it could ever be raised against him.

Tears were spilling down her cheeks when he turned back to her, and his expression gave over entirely to despair. Aemond opened his mouth, but words failed him.

He lowered her hand gently, bowing his head slightly to the right to give her an easier target.

It broke something within her.

She dove toward him, wrapping her arms around him as she cried into his chest, clinging to him as if he were her the only thing keeping her anchored to the ground.

But the moment Aemond moved to return the embrace, she shoved him away. It only moved him a step back, still within her reach. He did not move closer, and when she began to pound her fists furiously against his chest, he didn’t try to stop her.

“Why did you come back?” she demanded as she pushed him once more. “Why did you not just stay in Harrenhal with your whore and leave us alone?”

Aemond did not respond. His mouth hung open, but he said nothing. He could do nothing but stare at her, his eye flitting between her belly, where his child had grown –so much he could hardly believe it – in his absence, to her eyes.

Those eyes. A warm, rich brown that shone with gold in the firelight. It was Aemond’s favorite color. For whenever he saw it, in her eyes or their mother’s, he knew he was home.

But now those eyes he loved so dearly were filled with tears of his own making. He wanted nothing more than to see them dry and sparkling with love once more.

“Abrazȳrītsos, you must know I will always return to you,” he begged, stepping forward and cautiously placing a hand on her belly. Almost immediately, he felt a stirring within her, and a weak pushing against him.

His child.

Was it reaching for him, or pushing him away?

Before he could truly ponder either answer, his wife pulled away from him, her arms curling protectively around her abdomen.

He had to say something. Something to take her pain away, to make everything well again so he would have the chance to hold her and the babe. Even if it was a lie, he would say it if it made her forgive him.

“Raqiarzītsos,” he started, only for her to take another step away and scowl at him. He sighed as the realization of how deeply had hurt her truly sunk in. He softly called her name, “My love, it was one mistake. One moment of weakness, I swear –”

“Liar!” Her voice had grown rough with her fury, and Aemond flinched at the sound. He had never heard her shout like that, not even when she was a babe herself.

She saw his discomfort and reveled in it. Seeing him suffer a fraction of what she felt gave her a sinful spark of joy, one that she felt no need to beg forgiveness from the Seven for. She turned away from him and retrieved the letter from Daemon, panting as she looked over the words once more.

“A mistress now lies in your husband’s bed. She was a wetnurse at Harrenhal, some Strong bastard. She must be something truly special, for she is the only Strong – trueborn or bastard – to have survived Aemond’s rather thorough purging of the bloodline. I suppose it is now clear why. I have not been able to learn much about her. She is called Alys, my spies tell me.”

With smoldering eyes, she turned to Aemond and began to read aloud. “She reports to your husband’s chambers every night without fail, as she has done from the very first week he arrived at that cursed place. One of my spies even reported that he calls her to him after each battle or razing of some poor Riverlanders, as well as anytime he feels frustrated. It is no surprise, then, that there is another bastard babe in the whore’s witchly womb. Your brothers do have a fondness for seeding unsuitable women, don’t they?”

When she looked up from the letter, she found Aemond’s face set in anger, his fingers curled as though they were aching to grip his sword and run someone through. His eye flew from the letter to her face, the rage burning there only softening for a moment.

The left corner of Aemond’s mouth twitched upward involuntarily, and he jerked his head to the side to try and hide it. “You would believe Daemon’s word over mine, abrazȳrītsos? After all he has done?”

She let the letter drift back to the table. “If all I had was his word, I would not have believed it,” she explained. “But it is not only his word.”

Aemond exhaled slowly, looking away from her. Incensed as he was, he would not make her the target of his ire. Never her. “Will you tell me who else?”

“No,” she answered, shaking her head slightly. There was a dark glint in his eye that promised violent retribution upon whoever she would name. No one deserved torture, or perhaps even death, for telling the truth.

With a nod, Aemond closed his eyes and bowed his head. He would not press her further, though she knew he would likely still try to find out who it was by other means. But in that moment, she could not bring herself to care.

She was so tired.

She had anticipated a long fight, and thought she was ready for it. In the hours she waited for Aemond’s return, she had carefully tended the spark of her anger so it would burn only when she commanded. But the moment she saw him, it escaped her grasp and became a wildfire in a dry grassland. It was fierce, quick, and lethal. In an instant, it had consumed every bit of her strength, leaving only the barest smoldering remains in its wake.

After a few more silent moments, Aemond again opened his eyes and looked down at his wife.

“I will not insult your intelligence by trying to deny it any further,” he said, clenching his fist to stop himself from reaching for her, “and I know there is nothing I can say to excuse what I have done. But my love, I truly am sorry. For what I did, and for the hurt I have caused you.”

She stared at him, trying to detect and hint of insincerity. She found none.

“I love you. I know I have given you ample reason to doubt that but…” he swallowed thickly. “I do love you, abrazȳrītsos. I always have and I always will. I know in my heart that the gods made us for each other. And if they had fated us to others, I swear I would have defied their will and ripped them from the heavens so that I could love you.”

He licked his lips and removed his gloves before offering her his shaking hand.

Perhaps it was the result of the weariness pervading her entire being. Perhaps it was the tug of an unborn babe reaching out, somehow knowing its father was near. Perhaps it was the sliver of her soul that had always belonged to Aemond beckoning her to rejoin him and become whole again.

Whatever the reason, despite the protestations of her aching heart and her rational mind, she put her hand in his.

It did not fit as well as it used to.

If Aemond noticed, he did not acknowledge it. He raised their joined hands to his lips to kiss before resuming his plea. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I will understand if you do not give it, but for the sake of my heart and the love we share, I must ask it. Abrazȳrītsos, can you ever forgive me?”

The world fell silent, and so did she.

If she focused, she could hear her heartbeat, along with two others, thumping out three different rhythms. It was discordant, yet somehow comforting. She listened to it for a moment, trying to hear a melody within it. But there was nothing.

She turned her attention to her hand in Aemond’s grasp. There was a welcome heat where his skin touched hers, but also a tingling numbness. A slight discomfort, akin to wearing new gloves before they had softened and molded to her hands.

Then, she looked at Aemond. At the face that was more familiar to her than her own. It had changed in the last six months – more so than she would have expected. The color of his skin had deepened from so many days spent in the sun, and there were new blemishes that had not been there before. The shadows under his eyes, the roughness where it once was smooth, and the new smudge of a scar above the corner of his right brow.

All of it was strange. Known, yet unknown. Question, but no answer.

“I don’t know,” she whispered.

“What…” Aemond’s lip quirked again as he cupped her cheek with his free hand. “I don’t understand, what don’t you know, my love?”

She winced slightly at the foreign sensation of his hand against her skin. He had callouses now he didn’t have before. “I don’t know how to forgive you, or if I even want to. I just feel… tired.”

Aemond nodded, bowing his head once more to hide the disappointment he could not keep from his face, and looked at her belly. “Of course, you are tired,” he said, “I am sorry, I did not consider how late it was.”

She caught his eye flicking towards the bed – their bed, or at least, it used to be. A cold coil of panic began to wrap itself around her heart. He could not sleep here. He could not see…

“I would prefer if you slept elsewhere,” she said hastily before he could ask otherwise. “For tonight, I would like to be alone.”

Tears shone in Aemond’s eye for a moment, but he did not let them fall. He gave her a tight smile and again kissed her hand. “If that is what you wish, I will obey, but may I ask one thing?”

It would be foolish to say yes. Foolish to give him the opportunity to persuade her at all when she knew how easily he had always been able to sway her with his sweet words. Foolish to do anything but send him away immediately.

And yet…

“What would you ask?” she whispered, betrayed by the foolish little part of her heart and soul that was still and would always be his ‘hāedus.’

“I ask only for a few moments, and then I will leave, as you wish. But it has been half a year, abrazȳrītsos, since I have seen you, or heard your voice, or held you in my arms.” He squeezed her hand, drawing her attention to his face, open and earnest and pleading. “So for only a few moments, please, allow me to hold you again.”

His softly spoken words were like a siren’s song, and she began to feel faint as she struggled to resist falling under its spell. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, begging her mind to calm and think clearly.

“I promise, I will do nothing more than hold you,” he said, running his hand delicately over her cheek. “I just want to hold my wife.”

He did not deserve it, she knew. Nor did he deserve to be touching her as he did now, though she did not push him away. He did not even deserve her consideration of his request.

But it had been half a year for her, too.

Half a year with no one to kiss her good morning or good night. No one to carry her to bed when her legs and back ached. No one to hold her hair and whisper soothing words when she was sick.

She’d had her mother, her sister, and her maids. Even a Maester, at one very low point. But that was not the same. It was not the touch of a beloved husband.

Despite her anger, she was aching to be held by him.

“Just for a few moments,” she whispered through trembling lips. “Then you must leave.”

She did not have time to regret her decision before Aemond pulled her forward and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her forehead as he thanked her. And before she could pull away, he was turning her slowly, so her back was pressed flush against his chest.

“It’s alright,” he assured her when she made a soft noise of confusion. “Trust me, abrazȳrītsos.”

His hands skated down her arms, his touch featherlight and yet searing. She gasped as he began to cradle her belly, her head lolling back into his shoulder. If given one more breath, she would have pushed him away, but then…

He laced his fingers together and took the weight of her belly into his own arms.

It was a rapturous feeling, to have the burden of it lifted from her and her eternally aching spine, even for a moment. She sighed in relief and leaned back further into her husband. Gratitude flooded through her, and her hands flew to rest over his.

“Oh, Aemond,” she breathed into his neck.

Gods, she had missed him so much. Everything would have been so much easier if he’d been here to hold her like this. He had always known been able to help her, she should have known that even with their first child, he would somehow know what to do…

Her eyes snapped open, and her blood ran cold.

This was their first child, but it was not Aemond’s only child.

He had another, far away, within a different mother. A mother whom he had been there for as she grew, Who, thanks to her role as a wetnurse, would be able to teach him exactly how to help.

“Did you hold Alys like this?”

Aemond stiffened behind her, and his grip tightened. “Abrazȳrītsos…”

“Don’t lie to me, Aemond. Not anymore.”

Silence, then…

“Yes, I did.”

She seized his hands and ripped them apart, tearing herself out of his grasp as quickly as she could, heedless of him reaching for her. Stumbling, she crossed the room before turning back to him, eyes blazing through new tears.

“Do not ever touch me like you touched her,” she spat. Her rage had reignited, the barren grassland now an endless field of flame.

Aemond’s mouth hung open as he looked to her in despair, his arms held helplessly in front of him. His voice broke as he said her name – a plea. “I just wanted to hold you. To help you.”

“And you did. For a few moments, just as you asked. Now leave, as you promised.”

He was looking at her like she was a wild beast, primed to lash out should he make one wrong move. But she didn’t mind, for that was exactly what she felt like. He had made her feel that way, and she hated him for it.

Aemond just stood there, and she could see his mind working desperately to figure out what to say to placate her. She would not give him the chance.

“Leave!” she screamed, her voice ripping its way out of her throat, burning as it went. She could not help but wonder if that was what dragons felt when they breathed fire.

Lowering his arms, Aemond nodded. “I will leave, abrazȳrītsos. Just as I promised. I am sorry.”

“I don’t care.” She meant it. His apology meant absolutely nothing to her raging, broken heart.

She watched him carefully as he turned and walked through the door, ready to rage at him again if she needed to. Perhaps she would actually breathe fire the next time.

Aemond did not try anything to soothe her or convince her to change her mind. The warrior prince knew when a battle was lost. But she knew he had not yet ceded the war.

That much was clear when he paused in the doorway, looking back at her in determination. “I love you, abrazȳrītsos, and nothing will ever change that.”

Then he closed the door, and was gone.

But she could not stop crying, for she knew he would return.

Worse, she knew that as angry as she was, she loved him, too. And nothing would ever change that, either.

869 notes · View notes

pearlywritings · 7 months

Text

Don't let your worry reach your eyes

synopsis: waking up you don't find your husband next to you. Yet he is not that far - but what is he doing sitting in front of a mirror?

prompt: 17

requested by: a lovely anon

pairing: Diluc x fem!reader

tw: fluff, domestic moment, established relationship (you are married), talk about kids

word count: 1.3k+ words

a/n: check my Token of appreciation writing event!

It’s hard to grasp the line where the dream ends and reality starts when the evening is serenely quiet. You are sure that the winery staff has long but departed home and now are sharing your fortune of basking in the sweet embrace of sleep, while nature, surrounding your tranquil home, is slowing down too, saving the beautiful sounds and blooming colors for the next day.

All that was paving you a road to the dreamland, drawing you further and further in its everlasting fields and high above the fluffy clouds. You’ve almost reached your destination, a castle full of enchanting adventures, but a flicker of a candle and the barely heard heavy sighs are firmly holding you onto the earthly ground. Or bed, more specifically.

Carefully, not yet ready to open your eyes and chase the sweet drowsiness away, you glide your palm over the sheets to the side, ready to bump into the warm body of your beloved and ignore the candle completely. Yet there is no body, no warmth and no wrinkles left, which rings a little bell. It appears that sleep has come only to you, and now you forcefully push it away.

Sitting up is not a hard task, though blinking away the haziness is, but soon you manage to focus your sight. A quick look around the room doesn’t give any indication of something being odd, until your eyes land on the broad back of your husband. You stare at it a second, then another, tilting your head to the side once noticing his position - sitting on a padded stool in front of a mirror, the previously mysterious candle clearly put in a place to cast a light onto his face. Well, that’s new.

Slowly you push the blanket off, baring your legs and throwing them over the edge of the bed. Diluc has heard you from the first rustle of the sheets, but turns around to glance at you only when you are almost at his side.

“You know you shouldn’t walk barefoot?” He softly murmurs, when you stop behind his back and bend down to wrap your arms around his middle.

“You know you shouldn’t stay up so late?” Beating his question with one of your own, you bury your face in his hair - untied and streaming down his shoulders they remind you of those fluffiest clouds from your dreams. “Since we are on topic of that, why are you still up, love?”

You decide against commenting on the way he is sitting in front of a huge mirror, which is now reflecting the two of you. The man in your arms sighs - like you heard through your sleep - and puts a firm hand on the lock of yours resting on his stomach. Two wedding bands catch the candle’s flame.

“I was…thinking.”

‘I noticed,’ you almost say when he directs his gaze back to the smooth surface.

“What about?” You start playing with his fingers, putting your chin on his shoulder and trying to follow his eyes to understand what in his appearance - at that point you are sure it’s something close - got him so silently worked up.

“Do I look mean to you?”

You blink. Then blink again. Then move forward to look into his face to see if he is joking. But by the lack of a hint of a smile and trembling flames in the depths of his crimson eyes tell you he is definitely not.

“To me - never. You are the biggest, gentliest, loveliest and most handsome sweetheart of a husband to me,” the softness of your words paints his palish cheeks lightly pink and the corner of his lip twitches in a restrained smile. “But when you do try to give me a glare if I am being insufferable - I find it hot, not vile.”

The scoff he gives makes you giggle, and you hurry to press a gentle kiss to his nose.

“It’s just…” he sighs again, carefully tugging on your ring, sliding it half off and back up. “I am often told I have a mean glare...”

“Definitely not. Anywho says that has never truly looked at you,” your tone is soothing and you press another kiss to his skin, this time to the cheek.

“I never truly cared,” he confesses what you are already aware off, “but today a patron at the tavern, whom I was in the middle of throwing away,” you quietly snort, hiding your face in his shoulder again, “told me that with such mean eyes I’ll never be loved by my children if I ever have any.”

“Hell no he didn’t,” you gasp, staring at Diluc again. “If I were you I would’ve punched him.”

“As amusing as it sounds, please don’t,” the man ushers you and in a moment you are in his lap, with your arms wrapped around his neck, and his tightening their hold on your waist. “But it did get me thinking - what if our baby will find me scary? What if my gaze won’t be soft or loving enough?”

“If you are worried about that, then that’s already an indicator that you’ll do great,” lately you’ve been having occasional conversations about extending your little family, but you weren’t aware to this day just how seriously Diluc considered that. There is no denial that it makes your heart soften and love him even more. “Though I don't think you should be concerned, dear. Don’t you notice? Klee, Benny, Fischl, Razor and many other kids and teens look at you in awe and adoration - and they always look into your eyes. Would they look into them if they were mean?”

Diluc is silent for a mere couple of seconds, but that’s enough for you to see the extend of his worry.

“...I suppose they wouldn’t.”

“They definitely wouldn’t. Diluc, my love, you have the most vibrant eyes I’ve ever seen a person possess. So many shades of crimson affection whenever you look at someone you love or care for - I am the direct recipient of those feelings,” there is a smile finally and you nearly attack him with kisses, but you should finish your thought first. “And I have no doubt that our future child will become one as well.”

There is a long sigh, but the defeated hang of his head tells you that once again the victory is yours - it’s always been easy to convince your lover of something you believed were right, and you internally cheer for yourself and then physically pat the top of his head.

“Thank you, my flame,” oh, and those very same eyes shine brightly and it’s not the candle’s fault- it’s yours. “I’ll remind myself of this conversation whenever I’ll be questioning myself,” it’s only you in the crimson pools of his gaze, the mirror is finally completely forgotten and it breaks the atmosphere of lingering brooding.

“And I’ll be happy to have this conversation again. Maybe from now on I should carry a Kamera with me to capture every moment you give me a lovesick look to prove my point.”

When he gives you what he thinks is a ‘mean’ look, you only chuckle and move closer to capture his lips in a fleeting kiss.

“Nope, it sure looks sexy.”

“That’s it, you need sleep,” with a wave of his fingers the candle goes out.

“Ehe, WAIT..!”

With a soft squeal you are hoisted up when your husband stands up and are carried to the bed, where two bodies end up falling onto with laughter and many sweet kisses shared. As you settle under the blanket, with his warm body pressed closely to yours, Diluc can’t stop thinking of what you said earlier. Back then, in front of the mirror, he tried to imagine what he’d look like, gazing at his child, what kind of eyes he’d have when interacting with them. But he couldn’t see that clearly.

Now he can. And he is content.

#pearlywritings appreciation event #token of appreciation #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #diluc x reader #diluc x fem!reader #diluc ragnivindr x reader #diluc ragnvindr #genshin impact fluff

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currently-reading-a-book · 24 days

Text

A Tale of Two Minds

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: The seemingly shy Dr. Spencer Reid is interrupting you at the library, but don't let his quiet demeanor fool you...

Genre: smut

Warning: crime scenes; talking about murder, heated kiss, made up facts (let me know if I forgot something)

Word 1118 Count: words

A/N: As always, any criticism is very welcome. Sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes. English is not my first language. Not proofread.

Anyway, enjoy :)

✧ 🎀 -------------------------------------------------------------- 🎀 ✧

The building was huge. The dull grey walls ran through the whole building, seeming to never stop. You could easily get lost in one of the many departments of the FBI. An outsider would declare this building old and labyrinthine. However, for you, it was home or the closest place to one. Of course, you only have limited access as you’re just a trainee. You could only get inside the school side of the building, but you only needed the library to feel safe. Every possible minute of your free time you spend there. Being surrounded by piles of thick complicated books, trying to study every field of knowledge that exists.

The sternmost part of the library was your favorite. Nobody was there and you could enjoy your peaceful solitude. This was also the part where unsolved closed cases were located. Reading through them, trying to find a repeating pattern, and making an accurate profile. Hoping the police can then find a suspect that fits the criteria. With this method, you have quite a success and solved relatively a lot of cases. That is actually how you got into the special program of the FBI. It all started when you were solving a case of strange murders your local police couldn’t solve. It turned out the priest took justice a bit too personally. You analyzed the victimology of the murders and started to make a profile. The police just needed forensic evidence, which luckily was found quickly.

As you were nearly done with your profile on a murder case, in deep focus, someone disturbed your beloved peace.

“You know sitting on the ground could raise your potential of getting sick by over 18%.” A shy voice stated.

Letting out a breath, you snapped your head around just to see a guy with long blond curly hair. You lowered your glance a bit and saw his ID Card. Your eyes shot open. You're on your feet within a few seconds. “This can’t be true, can it?” you thought.

“You’re Dr. Spencer Reid!”, you said, a bit too enthusiastic.

He backed up a bit, startled by your elation. He hesitantly nods his head. Of course, you heard of him, like everybody did. Maybe you liked him a bit too much, like not everybody did.

He worked at the Behavioral Analysis Unit (BAU) of the FBI and was also a professor at the academy. One of his most impressive traits was undoubtedly his intelligence. It was hard not to be impressed by the breadth and depth of his knowledge, which set him apart from others. You would often hear amazing stories about how his mind solved cases. He was incredibly skilled at what he did and a huge role model for many, also for you. Working with him was always a dream for many and again of course you dream about it too, maybe even more than others. “Suddenly, you remember your position. You’re a forensics student and he was an agent, even a doctor to begin with. Another point would be that you had a crush and didn’t want to scare him away.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I was too excited,” you slowly admitted, locking down.

Embarrassment was written across your chubby face. He took a step closer, gaining confidence. He smelled incredible, masculine yet fresh and pine. Just like you imagined.

“I see you’re trying to solve the “Lucifer Case” and have you gotten any further with it?”, he asked, trying to break the awkwardness.

You look into his eyes, trying to read him. Confused why he would show any interest in you, you try to find out any motive by analyzing his body language, but you can’t find anything too convincing. A moment later he was standing beside you, looking through the files spread around you on the floor.

“I was just about to finish my profile before you interrupted, Doctor Reid”, you told him quietly. Your shyness got the best of you.

“Oh, please call me Spencer, Y/N”, he responded promptly, “and I apologize for interrupting you.”

Your cheeks heated up. Looking at him shocked, he looked back smiling. Too astounded to notice that he had called you by your name, which you hadn’t told him yet.

“Wait, how do you know my name?”, she questioned him embarrassingly late.

His smile got bigger. Even though he was close before, he reduced their distance some more. Now your back was pressing against the bookshelf, unable to escape his intense gaze.

“Your reputation precedes you, Miss Y/L/N.” he hushed seductively.

You swallowed hard, staying quiet. “What could this mean?”, you thought to yourself. Everybody in the study facility always said Spencer Reid was a shy nerd, but now you’re standing in the library with him towering over you.

“I was very impressed by your profile of the Cryptic Puzzle Killings,” he whispered into your ear, “it was a genius profile.” His voice was sending shivers down your spine.

“Doctor Reid,” you stuttered, but then interrupted you.

“it’s Spencer, remember?” You couldn’t think straight anymore. “I was holding back too long, I couldn’t resist any longer Y/N, please forgive me for my bad-mannered roughness,” he muttered as his lip brushed faintly over your neck. This was the moment your breath stopped. Am I dreaming?

“Tell me if you want to stop,” he muttered as he placed sloppy kisses around my neck.

“No, don’t stop.” That was the only thing you could say; his hands feeling too good on you. How he griped your hips pressing your hips more into his clothed erection. Feeling his touch like hot burns all over your body.

“I needed to use this opportunity,” he breathed .

As you wanted to reply to his confession, all of a sudden, another voice was calling for Spencer. Your cheeks flushed even more at the thought of getting caught with Spencer at this situation.

“Spencer, I said I would talk to her!” A stern voice was speaking with such authority.

Spencer quickly stepped back, taking all his warmth with him. You were looking around, overwhelmed with the situation, trying to figure out what was happening. Still feeling hot after your heated situation with Dr. Reid. Spencer was now around two meters apart from you, smiling at you shyly. His duality will kill you someday.

“Hotch I am here,” he quickly yelled back.

Whispering a quick apology to you before the tall black-haired guy showed up before us. His firm eyes looked into yours. He was standing in front of you with a straight face. Frankly, he seemed like a strict guy who didn’t understand any jokes. You’re starting to get the feeling that you did something bad. Your mouth got dry.

“Are you Y/N/Y/L/N?” the man asked you.

You nodded your head skeptically. Unsure of what consequences it might bring.

“I am Aaron Hotch, Supervisory Special Agent and Unit Chief of the BAU,” he continued, “And I am asking you Y/N to join the team of the BAU.”

Your head began to spin.

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aphroditelovesu · 1 month

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Hi! Love letters are open now and I realised Dionysus doesn't have one yet, if possible could you write one from him? Thank you! 💜

Dear (Y/N),

In the vines of your eyes I find the sweetest fermentation, the divine intoxication that makes me lose myself in ecstasy. Like a passionate winemaker, I taste every trace of your essence, diving into the depths of your being like someone tasting heavenly nectar. As a god of wine and feasting, I am used to being worshiped, but you awaken in me a deeper desire, an insatiable need to have you all to myself.

Oh, how your beauty is like a field of ripe grapes in the sunlight, exuding a divine aroma that intoxicates my soul. Your every gesture is like a sacred dance, every word like a celestial melody that touches the deepest corners of my being.

In your embrace, I find the ecstasy that only the gods can know. Your kisses are like the nectar of the gods, flooding me with a sweetness that transcends the limits of mortality. Your presence is my source of inspiration, my reason to celebrate life in all its fullness.

I promise you lust and devotion, intense emotions that only a god like me can offer. But I also warn you, my beloved, that I will never share you. I will not tolerate challenges to our union. If necessary, I will do everything possible to keep you by my side, even if it means resorting to madness. You have been mine since the moment our eyes met.

My love for you is as vast as the oceans, as eternal as the starry sky. May this letter express just a fraction of what I feel for you, as words cannot capture the magnitude of the love that burns in my chest.

May our journeys intertwine like vines in a vineyard, growing together in harmony and fertility. May each sip of wine be a toast to our love, each laugh a symphony of shared joy. So accept my love, my control, my protection. Be mine and mine alone, and I will lift you to the heavens, give you pleasure beyond the limits of mortality.

With devotion and eternal desire,

Dionysus.

#yandere love letter #love letter #greek gods x reader #greek mythology #yandere greek gods #yandere greek mythology #yandere dionysus #dionysus x reader #yandere dionysus x reader

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violettduchess · 4 months

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A/N: Vincent won the poll and with it, this kiss fic!

"This sadness will last forever" were supposedly Vincent Van Gogh's final words.

WC: 470

Trying to describe how it feels when Vincent kisses you makes you wish you were as talented with words as Dazai or Arthur. How can you possibly describe the feeling that floods you when he tenderly cups your face in his hands, eyes as blue as eternity, and leans down, softly pressing his lips against yours?

You are one of his beloved sunflowers, cacophonous and bright, baring your soul to the radiant blue sky, joy beaming from every corner of your heart. You are the strong branches of the almond tree in spring, riotous with pink and white blossoms, each petal a happy sigh that escapes you. You are the black spire stretching itself up up up into the expansive starry night, reaching with your whole soul for the stars.

Vincent parts your lips, delving deeper even as he tenderly pulls you closer, wanting to feel your solidness against him. Sometimes you wonder if he is afraid you are nothing but a phantom that will disappear if he opens his eyes, a creature of mist and dreams that will dissolve under the bright rays of sunlight. Your arms wind around his neck, your body presses closer, reassuring him that yes, you are real. You are solid. And you are unconditionally his. He is warmth and gentleness, golden as wheat fields in summer but he is also fiercely protective, a strength easily overseen and underestimated due to the tenderness of his nature, the boyishness of his mien. You know the truth. You know there is no shoulder you would rather lean on, no hands you would trust to hold your heart more than his.

Oh, those hands. Those beautiful, talented hands move over your skin like a paintbrush on canvas. With every caress he decorates you in his desire, his love, his dedication, his admiration and you? You feel beautiful. You are a work of art, a masterpiece, glowing with each stroke of blazing adoration along your body. There is nothing that lifts his heart more than the content sighs you whisper against his mouth, the ardent press of your fingers into his shoulder when your body lights up with yearning.

And if he pulls back for a moment, just a heartbeat in time, he can look into your eyes where he sees something unbelievable. He sees himself reflected there, in a way he never could imagine, despite the numerous self-portraits he has done. In the depths of your gaze, those windows to the naked essense of your heart, he sees himself as someone beautiful. Someone whole. Someone worthy of love.

Your name falls from his lips and just before he is utterly lost in the winding, sunlit path of your want, the hills and valleys of your body, he has a singular, sublime thought:

This love will last forever.

Tagging: @xbalayage @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @olivermorningstar @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @ikesimpleton @ikemenlibrary @namine-somebodies-nobody @greatstarlightstarfish @cellophanediamond @whatever-fanfics @chirp-a-chirp @got7igot7family @kookie-my-little-sunshine @fang-and-feather @bubblexly @kiki-tties @justpeachyteastea

#ikemen series #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp vincent #ikemen vincent #kiss fic #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen fanfic #otome fanfic #violettwrites

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tyttamarzh · 4 months

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DEATH FAMILY It is the continuation of my previous image, my beloved family, but time passed…

Chayanne is no longer a toddler, he is a little king and developed his own style of dressing, using his deflated float as a belt (he put his mask on his horn for the photo).

Now there is Tallulah with them, with her classic hat of fungus.

Phil's appearance changed over time, he now has some scars, some beard and longer hair, and he now shows off his wings.

The only apparent change in Missa is the wear and tear of his clothes, as he spends his time wandering the world and sleeping rough during his travels (his hair grows, but he doesn't like having it so long and he cuts it from time to time).

Chay did not want to take off his mask because he has such a pretty face that he is always mistaken for a girl. To get him to agree, Missa told him that he would also take off his for the photo. Chay agreed immediately because everyone wanted to see Missa's face, in this HC he has never taken off his mask before, that's why he looks very shy. And Phil… let's just say he looks at him very curiously…

(Hahahaha the photo has its own story and all that XDD)

I hope they take a family photo soon :3

I made this with vectors in illustrator, is a complicated shit, but is the app that learned in my career. I suck in depth of field and lights but… I try…

Close up!

The kids

Phil & Missa

See you!!

#death family #deathduo #missa #philza #chayanne the egg #tallulah the egg #pissa #QSMP #qsmp missasinfonia #qsmp fanart #Phil qsmp #death duo #missasinfonia

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deprivedreality · 9 months

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𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗢 𝗘𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗧𝗬 ; 𝗡𝗘𝗧𝗘𝗬𝗔𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗟𝗟𝗬. oneshot

word count: 1.5k request by: @aichiomei

summary: neteyam with his childhood sweetheart and mate who died before him. alternative ver for childhood sweetheart.

content/s & pairings: neteyam x omaticaya! reader. angst. mention of death and blood. heavy visualization of trauma/losing a loved one. reader is called Yaw'ne which is yn, basically beloved in navi.

ᓚᘏᗢ | masterlist | feel free to make a request too!

"𝗠𝗔 𝗬𝗔𝗪'𝗡𝗘. . . ?" His voice, pained and hoarse. Neteyam looked at his mate dying in his arms. The disappearance of the light in her eyes turned off all sense of consciousness in his body.

"Yaw'ne! Do not— no! You can't do this to me! Yaw'ne! Not now, not ever! My love— Look at me, please!" He cried, trembling as his chest heaved from the panic and anxiety he was feeling.

"Yaw'ne, look at me!" In an attempt to make a corpse look into him, he grasped her hand and placed it on his cheek, all while his other hand pushed through her chest, where blood spilled all over. Neteyam couldn't recognize himself anymore, all he could do was feel the warmth he couldn't embrace would be the last he'd ever feel from her as she went cold and pale.

In that moment, all he could think of was the future he envisioned with her, lost in a matter of moments. The love he swore to protect, the woman he promised to cherish, and soul he offered his life to. Gone. He couldn't grasp reality completely and amidst the war cry that echoes across the depressing field, he wouldn't take his eyes off her as tears swelled from his eyes, emotions daring to spill out.

He thought that if she stayed back, such thing would never happen. How did it come to this? How could one bullet determine the faith of someone? The faith of his mate, his love? Just Why?

He couldn't take off his eyes off of Yawne, the pain evident in his eyes as he looked at hers, lifeless and dim. All colors sucked off, replaced with the impeccable reminder that she no longer was with him. And will no longer be apart of a life she was supposed to be filling with colors.

"..." Neteyam spoke no more, but the silence has never been more loud. It was a mystery, really. How a broken heart can drive a man insane.

It was hard and brutal in each passing second. As smoke filled the air, so did the grief of the people all around him amidst the time of war. The cries of agony of a man who lost his mate was what filled the silence after the immediate aftermath of a battle between the RDA and the Omaticaya people.

Those who survived knew that if the Skypeople were foolish enough to have not surrendered earlier, then Toruk Makto's son— no, a man having been bereaved of his mate would've annihilated them with no hesitation and with bloodlust.

Neteyam's screams and shouts to bring her back were painful to hear to all those who were fortunate enough to be alive. As they echoed across the silenced field stocked with the corpse of Na'vis and Humans, taunting the ears of the many Omaticayan warriors that beared and witnessed the rage of the Omaticayan Prince's grief and agony upon losing his lover.

Neteyam never felt so conflicted in all his life. His father was Toruk Makto, yes. However, he never thought once in his life that it would be the sole reason for his forced departure from the home he's ever known. And setting all of it aside, the biggest part of not wanting to go was because his love rested with his people. And the thought of having no exact time of going back home scared him to the depth of his soul.

"I have to leave you, my love." A tear traced down his cheek and to his chin. Neteyam smiled even if he was in pain, the sides of his lips trembling as he stood in front of a boulder decorated with striking bioluminescent flowers and herbs. This was where his mate was buried, a place he almost spent his time on after he lost her.

"I'm sorry..." Neteyam whispered, butb then his knees started weakening that he had fallen down and broke into tears. He held his shoulders, as if hugging himself as he sobbed. "Please know that I don't want to do this. I want to stay with you... But I can't."

Even if he couldn't bear the pain of learning that he might as well never be able to see the memories of the life he once had, in the end, he found himself embarking on a harsh journey with his family. And although Neytiri and Jake knew about their son's dying desire to just be in the hands of the great mother just to be with Yawne, they would do everything to protect their son.

A sad soul waiting to just disappear was the person Neteyam had become. He never laughed whole heartedly nor expressed the same happiness he once had before tragedy of a broken heart befall on him. He never acted the same, focusing only on keeping his siblings align because it was the only thing Neteyam was left to do.

If he disappeared, Yawne would be disappointed of him. That is what he thinks, that deep inside, his mate would be upset if he would just off himself and leave his responsibilities as a son and a brother just to be with her.

From the very arrival of the Sully's in the Awa'atlu clan, he's always been perceived as the saddest amongst the forest children, unresponsive in daylight and sullen in the night. The village people pinpointed it. The tsahik of the Metkayina clan expressed her pity for him, to the point that he could not bear it anymore.

His brother and sister were in pain watching him cry every night, whispering the name of his deceased mate. All while he wished to be with just himself and his aching heart, in nights where he cradled himself to sleep. And kissed the necklace that only he had taken to leave with him as a part of his mate. The necklace that he weaved for his childhood sweetheart, dating back from when he had just learnt how to bead traditional jewelry at the ripe age of five just to impress his mate.

The memories that brought him back were the only thing that kept him together. He spent his life with his mate even before bonding with her as lovers. Neteyam had so much memories that the idea of it running out just made his day damp.

"Yaw'ne... It won't be long, I promise." One evening before tragedy happened, the boy had whisper as he looked at the beautiful sunset that reminded him only of one person, Yaw'ne.

The dazling gold color of the reef that blinded his eyes. The dewy-colored sky and it's undoubtedly gorgeous sight. And the atmosphere that flowed with warmth, that even if it wasn't as close to be similar to the warmth and comfort he felt by embracing her, it reminded him greatly of his mate.

Thinking about it made him smile genuinely, laughing to himself. "If things aren't the way it is, you would be sitting next to me, Yawne. You would've love the ocean."

The smile Neteyam showed, unknowingly, would be the last.

"Dad, I wanna go home─" Even as he lay dying in the same way his late lover had died, it was the only words that came out of his mouth when he looked at his father. He thought that for once in his life, he could be a bit selfish. Neteyam struggled to breathe as he looked at his parents and at Lo'ak. Blood seeped down his mouth but he spoke once more, this time with great desperation.

"I just want to see her again... I miss her─" Neteyam cried, eyes swelling with tears. Even through Lo'ak's pleads for him to stop, Neytiri's panic and to Jake's realization, all of them could see the desperation in his eyes.

"I miss her so much..." Neteyam longed for a moment of silence and he got it. His parents grieved for him as he lay dead on the cold ocean, eyes wide open as though they stared at the sky like any other day he spent at sea.

His eyes were dim when she died. But now, his amber eyes were at its dimmest. Neteyam died that day, with a bullet ending the pain he never thought would be the one to kill him in its stead.

It was the pain that killed him, and the acceptance that made him rest alas. It would be a mistake to underestimate the influence of love, thus, accepting it would lead into eternity.

ᓚᘏᗢ @deprivedreality 2023 | do not copy my works!

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happybird16 · 11 months

Text

•Chapter One•

Naga!Levi Ackerman/Fem!Reader

Summary: Growing up, the forest's edge always darkened the far corner of your small village. The giant, twisted branches overhead rendered the forest floor a terrifying, pitch black. You shouldn't be here. There's creatures here, dangerous ones.

Overall warnings: Past references to child abuse, blood, scars, gore, mystery, eventual sex, inhuman genitalia (Levi is a snake man), horror vibes.

Chapter warnings: Horror vibes, mystery

Chapter length: 3.7k

Ao3 Link

The most special of shoutouts to my beloved friend and beta @theferricfox!!!! Also, credit to @the-milk-anon for the snake banner!!

Note: Welcome to my spin on Mermay! I have roughly 7/12 chapters done-ish for this! Comments and reblogs are always welcome!! I could use the inspo to continue lol!

Next chapter

You shouldn't be here.

Giant, ancient trees tower above, their twisted and gnarled branches interwoven to create a dense, impenetrable canopy that blankets the ground in an engulfing darkness. These colossal trees are so massive that even ten people, hand in hand, would struggle to encircle their trunks. In the face of such enormity, you feel minuscule, like a tiny mouse in a vast expanse, overshadowed by the towering branches that stretch higher than anything you've ever witnessed.

In your childhood, the edge of this forest marked the distant boundary of your small village. As young children, you and your friends would engage in daring games, cautiously venturing beneath the green canopy one foot at a time. Each step toward the darkness held a thrill, with adrenaline surging in your ears and laughter bubbling in your throat. You remember playfully nudging each other to go deeper, whispering tales of monsters until the alarmed cries of someone's parents would bring the game to an abrupt halt. It was all innocent play, a group of children tempting danger and challenging one another to venture further into the ominous jaws of the forest.

The Maw.

Now, every step forward fills you with an overwhelming sense of dread. The childlike wonder that once fueled your adventures has vanished, replaced by a pounding heart lodged in your throat. The once enticing forest now instills a deep sense of apprehension and unease.

You're in The Maw.

It's named such because it is a place that devours all who dare to venture into its depths. It teems with perilous creatures, their forms etched in your mind with vivid clarity—claws that rend, teeth that tear, and the sight of crimson blood staining the ground. The inhabitants of this forsaken realm include both savage beasts and eerie abominations, a chilling blend of half-human hybrids, demons, and towering giants. While rare for these creatures to stray beyond the forest's edge into your humble farming village, the disappearances of unsuspecting villagers were all too frequent. Vanished without a trace, they would be snatched from their beds in the dead of night or plucked from the fields in broad daylight. Some incidents left behind gruesome remnants of carnage, while others left nothing but an eerie absence. The Maw's hunger was insatiable, claiming lives and leaving a haunting sense of dread in its wake.

“F-ffuck,” you stutter, fighting against a stiff breeze to keep the hood of your cloak tight to your ears. It's cold. Fucking freezing actually. With each labored step, your body fights against the biting cold that gnaws at your skin. The hood of your cloak strains against the relentless wind, desperate to shield your ears from its icy grip. The weather has turned unforgiving since you entered the forest.

What began as a serene sunrise, painting the sky with hues of pink and yellow, has given way to a harsh reality. The gentle dusting of snow beneath your feet has transformed into a thick, heavy flurry. The temperature has plummeted, sending shards of icy pain with every breath you take. The bone-chilling cold seeps into your very core, inflicting aches that reverberate through your entire being. Each step is an agonizing struggle, your weary knees protesting with every creak. It feels as though you've never walked this far before, the physical toll becoming increasingly demanding with each passing moment.

Can't go back. Can't go back.

In the relentless darkness, your sense of time has become distorted, making it impossible to gauge how long you've been journeying through this treacherous forest. It feels like hours, perhaps even most of a day, has passed since you first set foot on this path. The initial signs of caution marked your entry into this perilous realm, with wooden boards warning of the impending danger, are long behind you. The words "Turn Back" and "Danger" were hastily scrawled in bright red, urging you to reconsider your course. The last sign you recall, which feels like an eternity ago, ominously proclaimed "Death Ahead."

The biting cold has taken its toll, numbing your body and rendering your toes distant and fuzzy within the confines of your leather boots. The wind howls in your ears, drowning out all other sounds, but occasionally you catch the panicked shuffling of small creatures seeking refuge from the tempest. Every noise, no matter how faint, puts you on edge, heightening your anxiety with each passing moment. Progress becomes increasingly arduous as you press forward, battling against the biting cold and the relentless forces of nature.

The oppressive darkness seems to intensify the longer the day drags on, engulfing your surroundings and adding to your growing fatigue. You struggle to maintain your balance, feeling the weight of exhaustion in every step. The biting cold cuts through your clothing, seeping into your bones, and you tightly wrap your coat around yourself in a feeble attempt to shield against the frigid air.

With determination in your voice, you mutter to yourself, "Can't go back. Can't go back." Despite the numbing cold and the seemingly endless journey, turning back is not an option. You press on, summoning whatever strength remains within you.

As you trudge forward, a brief break in the dense canopy allows a glimpse of the sky above. However, there is no welcoming sight of an evening sky with its fading hues. Instead, a tumultuous scene unfolds with dark and furious clouds obscuring any sense of time. In the distance, the white-capped peaks of The Spine stand resolute, yet seemingly no closer than when you first embarked on this arduous trek. Doubt begins to creep in, and you repeat to yourself, "I can't. I can't."

But you have to. Of course there'd be a storm. Just your luck.

The bitter cold continues to gnaw at your body, its icy grip sapping your strength and resolve. Hopefully the weather convinced any hungry mouths to stay home. The storm raging around you adds to the foreboding atmosphere, amplifying your sense of vulnerability. You can’t help but feel a sense of grim irony that the weather itself might be the cause of your demise before any of the lurking dangers within The Maw.

Navigating through the labyrinthine depths of The Maw is no easy feat, especially without a clear destination in mind. The absence of a guide or a map leaves you relying solely on your instincts and determination. The path ahead remains shrouded in darkness, and uncertainty tugs at your thoughts. You don't even know where the fuck you're going.

Despite the doubts and the physical strain, you carry on, propelled by a mix of resilience and desperation. The legacy of fear and caution instilled by your village only adds to the weight on your shoulders, reminding you of the countless tales of those who ventured deeper into this forbidden territory and never returned.

The heavy snow has engulfed your legs, reaching up past your shins and creeping closer to your knees. Each step is an arduous struggle, accompanied by a resounding crunch and leaving behind a trail of deep boot prints in the snow.

The words escape your lips in a desperate whisper, “Shelter. Need to find shelter.” Your teeth chatter uncontrollably, and you hunch your shoulders in a futile attempt to shield yourself from the biting wind that threatens to knock you off balance. The hood of your cloak is pulled down as far as it can go, obscuring your vision, and you strain to see the path ahead. Forward is the only option. Forward is the only way to endure.

The Spine dominates your thoughts, an unwavering destination that holds the key to your quest. It is the mountain range at the heart of The Maw, and you must reach its base. There is no turning back, no retreat, not unless you find them.

The weight of the task ahead feels insurmountable, overwhelming you with a crushing sense of impossibility. The magnitude of the journey, coupled with the harsh realities of The Maw, fuels a nagging belief that survival is unattainable. The specter of death looms ominously, casting its dark shadow over your thoughts.

You're going to die out here.

An abrupt sound shatters the eerie silence, reverberating through the desolate expanse of The Maw. It resonates with a weight that sends shivers down your spine, amplifying your sense of unease. Instinctively, your hand reaches for the knife attached to your belt loop, its familiar weight grounding you in this perilous moment. It was your fathers hunting knife, the only thing you have left besides the clothes on your back and a small bit of supplies in your bag.

As your fingers clasp around the knife’s handle, a surge of adrenaline courses through your veins, mingling with the cold that permeates the air. The tremor in your hand betrays a mix of fear and the biting chill that surrounds you. Your grip tightens, seeking solace in the solid presence of the blade as you brace yourself for whatever lurks in the darkness.

Someone -something- curses in the distance. The distant swear cuts through the air, resonating with a chilling familiarity that freezes your very core. It echoes with a human quality, evoking haunting memories of voices that once whispered from the edge of The Maw during your childhood summers. Those beguiling voices, whether belonging to silver-tongued demons or ravenous wendigos, possessed a deceptive innocence, luring the unwary towards their perilous embrace. They wore the guise of familiarity, mimicking loved ones and casting their sinister spell.

But this time, the sound does not persist. It does not morph into the soothing tones of your mother's voice or the mischievous giggles of your younger brother. Instead, an unsettling silence descends upon the forest, amplifying the eerie stillness that pervades the surroundings. The once-constant symphony of rustling leaves and distant whispers is replaced by an oppressive hush, broken only by the howling wind that pierces your ears.

The skeletal branches of the ancient trees loom ahead, their gnarled forms resembling bony fingers reaching out in a macabre invitation. The forest, now stripped of its foliage, feels even more sinister, as if the very essence of its secrets and lurking dangers is concentrated in this barren landscape. Your instincts scream at you to tread cautiously, to be alert to the unseen perils that may lie in wait within the shadows.

Prey.

You have the sudden, panicky realization that you’re prey. The thought builds a solid, uncomfortable itch between your shoulder blades. Every fiber of your being trembles with the realization that you are nothing more than some predator's next quarry in this treacherous domain. The weight of vulnerability settles upon you like a suffocating shroud, your senses heightened to the point of hypersensitivity. There could be something hungry watching you in the distance, just waiting for you to tire yourself out. The notion of unseen eyes fixated upon your weary form fuels a primal panic, evoking a primal fight-or-flight response deep within your core.

Your fingers, numbed by the biting cold, clench around the knife, its presence offering a meager reassurance in this harrowing moment. With determined resolve, you steady your breathing, allowing each inhalation to calm your racing heart. One deliberate step at a time, you advance through the snow-laden terrain, your movements slow and measured, as if treading upon fragile ice.

Every crunch of snow beneath your boots feels deafening, resonating through the wintry silence. The haunting stillness amplifies the tension, heightening the suspense as you inch closer to the source of the disturbance.

It's a man, slumped against the trunk of a massive tree, his body partly concealed by the swiftly accumulating snow. As you cautiously draw nearer, you observe his disheveled state, lying motionless on his side. Your attention is immediately drawn to his coat, a patchwork of furs and skins stitched together from different animals. The garment stands out as peculiar, though it appears to provide warmth in this frigid environment.

There's someone else out here? The presence of another person this far into The Maw surprises you. Something along the back of your mind flares red in warning, reminding you of the possibility that this could be a trap. With this warning at the back of your thoughts, you proceed with caution, prepared for any untoward situation that may arise.

Knife held steady, you kneel next to his form. The snow immediately soaks through the material of your pants, burning cold against your skin.

With your knife still in hand, you carefully lower yourself beside the man, the icy snow seeping through your pants and chilling your skin. “Hey,” you call quietly, eyes assessing the stranger's face.

The thought crosses your mind: What if he's in a situation similar to yours? Lost and vulnerable in this treacherous wilderness, in desperate need of assistance?

Despite being unconscious, the man continues to shiver uncontrollably. His trembling is so intense that it causes the snow around him to tremble as well. The exposed patches of skin beneath his peculiar coat are inflamed, their bright pink hue indicative of discomfort. His features appear slack, his hair splayed out against the snowy ground, forming a stark contrast of black against white. You observe that his lips have taken on a slight bluish tint. Worry grips your heart as you implore, "Hey, you need to wake up. We have to get you up."

With mounting urgency, you observe the man's lack of response as his head remains nestled in the snow, becoming adorned with a delicate layer of white flakes. The sound of the knife slipping back into its sheath echoes softly, as your hands instinctively reach out to press against the stranger's shoulders in a desperate attempt to rouse him. "Hey, come on!" you plead.

Although his chest rises and falls with each shuddering breath, indicating that he is indeed alive, you still place a finger on his neck to feel for a pulse. It's slow, alarmingly sluggish compared to your own racing heartbeat. "Fuck! Wake up, wake up, wake up!" you chant urgently, slapping his cheeks with your gloved fingers. His skin feels unnaturally cold, even through the protective layer of your gloves.

As the man's eyes flutter open, his brow furrows with confusion, and he mumbles something barely audible. His head lolls back into the snow, and he shifts, his elbow digging into the snowy ground.

"Hey, hi. That's it. Look at me," you urge, your voice filled with a mix of concern and determination. You grasp his shoulders and gently tug, trying to encourage him to sit up. "Come on, you can't stay here. You need to get up. Is there somewhere warm nearby?"

His eyes finally open fully, revealing a glimpse of gray irises before they quickly close again. "No, no, no, come on!" you implore, cupping the base of his skull with one hand and using your other hand to deliver a firm but gentle slap to his cheek, attempting to bring him back to consciousness.

If he's here, there must be some sort of human settlement nearby. Somewhere warm and safe.

As you contemplate the possibility, your attention is abruptly drawn to your left by a movement in the snow. Panic grips you as you witness something massive and black emerging from beneath a thick layer of white.

"F-Fuck!" you scream, unable to contain your shock and fear. Your eyes widen as you realize it's a colossal snake tail, stretching out straight and partially buried in the snow. The unexpected sight causes you to lose your balance, and you fall back onto the cold ground, landing on your backside. "What the fuck!" you exclaim, your voice filled with a mix of terror and disbelief.

He's a Naga. An actual Naga, half snake half man. You've only heard of them in legends, tales whispered back and forth among the children of your village. Even in the darkness of the forest, his black scales glitter up at you like diamonds.

Stuck in your awe, now waist deep in the snow, you're suddenly reminded just how cold it is. Even with excited adrenaline making your limbs all jittery and sweaty, it's still freezing. The snow is falling more rapidly now, wind whistling through the trees to twist and warp their smaller branches.

Surging forward onto your knees, you move to cup his face yet again, intending to continue your prodding. If only you could get him up, he could save you both.

“Hsssssssh,” he hisses at you, teeth bared. His head doesn't rise, resting heavy in the snow, but a jaw full of sharp fangs widens in full aggressive display right next to your hand. Silvery eyes suddenly wide and alert, he glares up at you with a vicious heat, flaring a pointed tongue out to taste the air. “Hhhuman,” his nose curls up at the word.

The sight of his long, white incisors strikes cold fear into your heart. It brings you pause, fingers trembling against his pale cheek. “H-hey,” you start shakily, struggling to meet his gaze. His pupils are sharp, the thin pin prick lines of a predator. When he blinks, a thin translucent membrane precedes the eyelid, startlingly inhuman. You pause for a moment, your fingers still trembling against his pale cheek. Despite the fear coursing through you, you muster the courage to speak, your voice quivering. Meeting his gaze, you try to convey empathy and urgency.

“Hey,” you stutter, your voice barely audible as you try again. “I understand you’re wary, but we can’t stay here. It’s dangerously cold. We need to find shelter. Please, let’s get up and find somewhere warm.”

“Cold,” he repeats with a hiss. Claws dig into the snow by your knee. He blinks heavily, struggling, “Why…”

He’s clearly disoriented, prompting you to speak slowly and gently, trying to guide him to sit up.

“Come on! We need to find somewhere nearby, somewhere warm,” you encourage, tugging at his shoulders in an attempt to rouse him from his daze.

“Warm,” he mutters, eyes fluttering with a vague sense of recognition. Slowly, he rises, causing his magnificent, 20-foot-long tail to shake off the snowy coating. Its pitch-black scales glisten in the dim light, an awe-inspiring sight. “Nest.”

“Do you live somewhere nearby?” you inquire, keeping a close eye on his movements. Once he manages to prop himself up on the bend of his tail, he leans heavily against your side, almost toppling you over. With one hand on his back for support, you guide him forward, urging him to lead the way.

“Where is your nest?” you ask, hoping he can direct you to a warm and safe place nearby.

"Cave," he slurs, his voice muffled against your neck. As he stands upright, you realize he's slightly shorter than you. His heavy eyes close and open, struggling to stay alert. He trembles against your side, his senses keen as he tastes the air once more. "Human. Don't need your help."

The mention of a cave ignites a spark of hope within you. If there's a cave, it must be located on the edge of The Spine, nestled among the rocks on the mountainside. With renewed determination, you wrap your arm around his back, fingers pressing gently into the small of his waist. "Come on. Can you guide me there?" you implore, relying on his knowledge to find the refuge you both desperately need.

“Mhmmm,” he mutters nonsensically as his face burrows into the warmth of your neck, his cold nose pressing against your collarbone. He doesn’t respond to your question, instead leaning heavily against your side. “Warm.”

“Hey hey,” you pat his hip, trying to pull him forward as you take a step forward. “Don't fall asleep again. Come on, move with me.” He does, tail sliding back and forth through the snow behind your huddled forms.

The progress is slow and arduous, each step a struggle as you practically drag him forward through the snow. The falling snow obscures your vision, but you spot a faint path ahead, partially covered by fresh snowfall. The wide trail left by his tail serves as a guide, leading you deeper into the wintry landscape.

"Come on, almost there," you urge, your voice strained. The weight of his body feels overwhelming, causing your bones to protest with each movement. The biting cold sears your face and ears, and the wetness on your pants becomes a painful reminder of the freezing temperatures. You can only imagine the suffering the man at your side endures. His fur coat, now soaked through, adds to his misery, and you feel his trembling against your side. How long has he been out here, exposed to the elements?

Throughout the entire journey, the Naga’s delirious muttering continues against your neck. His words are incoherent, mixed with occasional hisses and the repeated mention of warmth. You even feel the wet brush of his forked tongue against your skin at one point. He clings to you, one arm draped across your back, fingers digging into your far hip.

“There we go,” you gasp, the strain evident in your heaving chest as you continue pulling him forward. The physical exertion keeps you warm, though having sweat-soaked clothes in the midst of the storm is far from ideal. As you near the base of The Spine, the path grows more treacherous. The rugged terrain, with its sharp rocks and hidden crevices beneath the thick snow, demands careful navigation. Each step becomes a deliberate effort, further slowing your progress.

The winds howl fiercely, swirling the snow around you in a blinding flurry. It’s difficult to keep your bearings, but you know you can’t afford to stop. The cave must be near, offering the possibility of respite from the harsh elements. You cling to that thought, pushing through the exhaustion and pain.

After what feels like an eternity, you catch sight of a dark opening nestled among the rocks. It's the cave you've been searching for. Relief floods through you, pushing you forward with renewed determination. With every ounce of energy you can muster, you guide the Naga towards the entrance. It's camouflaged amidst the snow-covered rocks, barely noticeable. The opening is a narrow crack in the cliff side, just wide enough for you to squeeze through.

You pull him in behind you, tugging at his arm. He manages to squeeze himself inside, and the moment he fully enters the warm cavern, he succumbs to unconsciousness.

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #Naga!Levi #tw; hybrids #levi/reader #fem!reader #mermay

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lady-spacy · 6 months

Text

Greetings beloved people!

Io and behold, my first time writing smut!

Thirteenth Doctor x (Genderneutral) Reader: Sex Pollen on a beautiful moon - shameless smut edition!

Reader is AFAB and body parts are referred to by name but I did not use any pronouns to refer to the reader themselves!

No beta, we die like men! I wrote this instead of sleeping! Enjoy!

********* Smut is way under the cut!*************

Bouquet (13 x Reader)

“This is the best day to go exploring with Y/N!”, the Doctor exclaimed excitedly while grabbing your hand to pull you with her towards a glittering field of flowers with an equally vibrant forest shimmering on the horizon.

You laughed, thrilled to be chosen by her to spend a day with her. To be close to her and to see her contagious, a billion galaxies erupting in light, smile.

Travelling with the Doctor was like a fever dream, in the best and worst meaning. At times so dangerous and scary that you were afraid to take just one more step. Usually the Doctor would then turn around to you and would encourage you to go on.

“Come on, Y/N,”, she would say with her beautiful eyes full of stars and her scrunched nose and deliciously curved lips, “I need your help here, I can’t do it without you!”

And at other times it was so unbelievable and beautiful that you feared you would wake up and find it all not to be real.

Today you had landed on a small moon of a busy planet.

Yaz, Graham and Ryan had decided to go shopping and sightseeing on the planet below and you and the Doctor had dropped them off and then she had told you about the rich nature and brilliant, crystal clear flowers and and jewel-like singing tress on the moon that she knew you would love to see.

And now you were here, running with your Doctor through the field, feeling the buzzing life around you in the air, trying to keep up with her, even though she was still holding your hand.

“Isn’t it brilliant?”, she screamed and you nodded, a little out of breath.

You reached a little island of colorful bushes and some small trees on the field and you motioned towards them.

Something urged you to take a closer look.

“Can we take a break there? I need to see these colours up close!”, you asked-yelled and the Doctor just grinned and changed the direction towards the closest tree.

It looked just like an earth-birch, but instead of being white and black was this one light-blue with specks of gold and purple.

You inspected the tree closer and found some tiny red glowing mushrooms growing on it.

“Adorable”, you mused to yourself as you smelled the sweetest, fullest fragrance you have ever smelled.

You looked to find the source and it turned out to be coming from the purple, nearly black flowers that were blooming on a nearby bush. Leaning closer you breathed in deeply.

The scent was flowery, surprisingly heavy for such fine, delicate flowers and with a spicy depth that reminded you maybe of musk, or maybe of naturally scented woods like cedar or sandalwood. Something earthy, rich and dark. Something warm that heightened your senses, with a hot burning flame beneath.

“Doctor…”, you turned to look for her, when you heard your name being called at the same time.

“You have to smell these flowers!”, you continued to say unison and you both laughed when you realised it.

“You found the flowers as well?”, you asked and stepped aside to let the Doctor smell your flowers.

She breathed in deeply and smiled contentedly.

“It reminds me of you”, she said and you froze in your movements.

You had just turned to smell the flowers the Doctor had found, which were the same ones as you had seen and you stopped dead in your tracks.

“Oh I wanted to say the same thing”, you said cheerfully, only rarely registering that you had said that out loud what you would usually had only thought.

Mentally you shrugged and couldn’t care less.

The Doctor’s eyes lit up and the stars in them shone brighter than ever before.

She smiled her happy, toothy smile and you beamed back at her.

Smelling the flowers again, inhaling deeply, you decided to pick one.

“Here”, you offered the flower to the Doctor.

“It’s for you, you should wear it in your hair. I love it when you wear pretty things, it makes you even more beautiful…”

And another thing you would usually never had said out loud. How odd.

The Doctor’s eyes grew even bigger with joy as she took the flower from you and carefully pushed the stem behind her ear and arranged her hair around the flower.

“You should have one, too”, she said and picked one for you.

You placed your flower just like she had done and when she rose her hand to help you secure it, she stepped closer to you than it would have been necessary.

You gulped and felt oddly brave, so you grabbed her hand, when it was close to your face and kept it in place.

Something was burning inside of you, flooding your nerves and senses, rushing through your veins in your blood, making you feel the air tingling on your skin. You were suddenly very aware of your body in your clothes, feeling very hot and very bothered.

You felt your nipples stroke against the fabric of your bra and you felt your panties over your tingling and pulsating vulva. Of course they weren’t providing any friction.

But you wanted friction. Badly.

You felt how the Doctor’s usually cool hand close to your face, that you were holding got hotter as well. Maybe her skin burned as much as yours. Maybe her core felt just as yours did. All tingly and wet.

This thought sent even more heat through your body, tangling into a ball of arousal deep in your lower abdomen.

Your eyes were locked into each other, standing there, you felt your heart beat as you were unable to blink.

The Doctor made a step towards you and it made your eyes flicker to her lips, parted and wet, she must have been licking them.

The thought of her tongue flicking made the ball inside of you coil even closer together.

You were relatively the same height as her, so it did not take much to kiss her.

And so you did.

Using your free arm to pull her the remaining centimetres towards you, keeping your grab on your hand, you kissed her.

She responded immediately, opening her mouth for you, strangled sounds coming from her as you kissed her with everything that you’ve got.

It was an open mouth, very wet kiss, an all-consuming, senses overflowing kiss, it was her and her lips and body and nothing else.

She used her other hand to really get a hold of your face, pulling it closer to her, while pushing her knee and thigh between your legs.

You yelped into her mouth, as she pushed a sturdy seam on the inside of your jeans between your labia, exactly where you wanted some friction to be.

You started grinding on her knee and thigh, rather subconsciously, while you tried to remove her coat, kind of blindly, eyes half-way closed and mind filled with her kiss.

She had broken away from you, as the need for air took over and had opted to kiss, suckle and nibble at your jaw and neck instead.

She was working on opening the buttons of your blouse, while you tried to push down her suspenders after having successfully took off her coat from her, when she jumped back, as if she was hit with an electric shock.

“No!”, she gasped for air, making a big step back from you.

“Ohhh, Y/N, I am so, so sorry!”, she panted, a pained expression all over her face.

Your mind barely registered her words, you felt the emptiness, you felt rejected and betrayed and still so, so hot!

You were burning from the inside out!

You still felt your nipples, your tingling core and now warm and very wet underwear. You only wanted her lips back on your skin, so you made a few, shaky steps towards her.

“Ohhh”, she groaned, hands running over her face and through her tousled hair, which was your work, a proud part inside of you pointed out.

“Stupid, stupid Doctor!”, she muttered to herself, while hitting herself on the forehead.

“I should have recognised them… I should have… Think! Think! Think! Concentrate! Concentrate! You have to bring your Y/N out of here! No kissing, kissing is bad!”

You had only listened to her with half an ear, your body and soul hurting from her rejection. Why else should she have pushed you away, if she did not want it as bad as you did?

Maybe you were the only one with burning skin and a desperate pussy.

You rarely considered the whole oddity of the whole situation, how you had acted on your desires so suddenly, how your desires had manifested themselves so quickly on a physical level, when you usually sucked them up and stored them away somewhere deep inside your heart, never even considering to act on them in real life.

So you missed the pained expression on the Doctor’s face, how her chest heaved and how she fought for control over the danger she had put you two into unknowingly. And how she fought down her desire.

You only felt rejected and your soul cried in bitter pain. But your body had it way worse. Had it been a sweet pleasurable desire before, an exciting ache while you had kissed the Doctor was it now an actual pain.

Your body felt as if it was on fire, your skin felt open and irritated and the pressure in between your legs was more than you could bare.

“Y/N. Y/N! Look at me!”, you suddenly saw how the Doctor’s face came into your field of view, kind of blurry, so you tried to blink to get her image clear.

“We were drugged. You need to concentrate. Y/N!”

The word ‘drugged’ had enough effect on you that you managed to finally see her clearly, you tried to focus on her words and the information she wanted to give you.

No, not her lips! Not her soft flushed skin! Not the lips. Not her sparkling eyes! Her words! Her words! Important words!

“Listen to me! Those pretty flowers contain pollen that are toxic to most humanoids…”

“Toxic?”, you managed to blur out. “Are we going to die?”

The Doctor looked at you with her continuous worried, pained expression.

“How — how — how are they toxic? I don’t feel poisoned. But my body hurts!”, you started crying.

“Please make it stop! It hurts so much!”

Hot tears streamed down your face and you desperately tried to rub yourself over your panties inside of your jeans but it did not do much.

“Pl-please!”

You fell to the ground, legs spread wide and you still tried to find release by fervently rubbing over and through your now soaking wet clit and slit.

But it was too wet, your fingers couldn’t do anything, they were unsuccessfully slipping over your skin and you groaned and cried in frustration and pain.

“This is what the pollen do”, the Doctor tried to explain the situation as easy as possible. Also as quick as possible.

“They arouse most humanoids sexually and if they don’t get to climax within three hours the nervous system and the brain could get severe damage. I am so sorry!”

The Doctor had crouched next to you and was biting her lips and pressing together her own legs. If you would have been able to read her body more closely, you would have seen the sweat on her forehead and neck and chest, her panting and her dilated pupils. She was in as much pain as you and her hearts burned with the same desire for you as your heart did for her.

“I will get us out of here and find a solution, I won’t let anything happen to you! I promise!”

She helped you to sit up and to close your jeans again and you saw everything clear as day.

“You don’t want me!”, the thought sobered you up enough to look at her properly and to think like a human being again.

“You don’t want me!”, you repeated, now with an aching heart that nearly lessened the ache in your core.

“Can I do it myself?”, you asked and stood up on shaky legs, pushing yourself up from the ground in a very ungracious way.

The Doctor stood there and watched you with furrowed brows and lips a thin line.

“Do what yourself?”

“Climaxing…”, you answered and stomped towards the TARDIS, not being waiting for her answer.

Legs feeling wobbly and every step was a sensory hell.

Your still felt your hardened nipples against the fabric of your bra, the tightness and the coiling of your insides, your throbbing clit and the seam of your jeans against your slit with every second step.

But now you were also angry.

Angry at the Doctor, angry at yourself that you had let it come so far and angry that you were still so incredible aroused that you just wanted to hump the nearest tree to find release.

“Please Y/N…”, a soft hand on your arm stopped you right in your tracks and you found yourself face to face with the Doctor. Still your Doctor with the beautiful eyes and deliciously curved lips and the soft blond hair, that now looked very dishevelled, still the woman you wanted to kiss, taking all of her in, tasting her everywhere, the woman you wanted to hear scream out in pleasure as a result to your fingers, your tongue on her, inside of her …

“Wait please, don’t go like this!“, the Doctor pleaded with big, desperate eyes, pupils huge.

She sighed heavily and bowed her head in defeat.

“It is not that I don’t want you, on the contrary. I want you so much and I know I shouldn’t. I promise I’ll find a cure for you. Just kiss me again, please! I promise I’ll— “

The sound you let out was a high-pitched moan of relief and eagerness as you pressed your lips to hers again.

And immediately the pain subsided, leaving the pleasurable ache once again behind.

The Doctor’s kiss was eager, eager to please you, taste you, feel you.

Her fingers finished unbuttoning your blouse and impatiently helped you out of the sleeves.

Your burning skin was immediately met with a cool breeze that made you shiver in the most stimulating way.

The Doctor kissed your neck, right at the juncture to your shoulder at the soft hollow above your collarbone and you sighed and sighed and sighed out loud.

The Doctor’s lips and tongue, wet and warm, were working on your shoulder while her skilled and quick fingers opened your bra. She only stopped kissing your shoulder for a second to pull the straps of the bra down your arms and the moment your sensitive nipples were hit with the gently blowing breeze around you, you threw back your head and screamed out in pleasure.

This was what you had wanted all the time, since this madness began.

So the Doctor went immediately towards your left nipple, she licked across it, once, twice, thrice and then very gently grazed it with her teeth.

She held you stable with one arm and used her other hand to pinch and stroke your right nipple.

You arched yourself towards her and tried once again to remove her suspenders, this time you succeeded as far as it was possible to the point, where she held you tight.

She unlatched from your breast and you let out an involuntary sound of disappointment.

“Shhh”, the Doctor quickly kissed you

“One second, my love!”, she murmured close to your lips and and finished taking off her suspenders, while you tried to kiss her again.

“I just want to lay out my coat for you. I don’t want you to come while standing up, I want you to feel as comfortable and good as possible. I’ll be quick!”, she purred and quickly took her coat from the ground, gave it a shake and laid it flat out.

While she had worked with the coat you had opened your jeans and were just about to pull them down as her hand stopped you.

“Let me help you with that!”

And the Doctor pulled down your jeans, helped you to step out of them and then kissed the hemline of your panties.

“We do not need them anymore, do we?” Her voice was like melted butter and you squirmed.

Everything inside of you was throbbing in painful anticipation, your nipples hard, begging to be touched again and you just wanted to ride the Doctor’s face until you came.

Laying down was overrated!

“Ple-please, ge’em off…”, your voice was slurred but the Doctor understood anyways.

She kneeled down in front of you and pulled your underwear down.

She sighed excitedly at the sight of your now fully exposed body.

“I have dreamed of this moment!, she admitted, while looking up to you through her lashes.

“Likewise!”, you answered with a slurry voice and she grinned happily.

And it was a sight for the gods — the Doctor on her knees for you, her hands tightly on your thighs, admiring every inch of your body with endless hunger in her eyes.

She looked at every jiggly curve and soft, dimpled patch of skin, every warm and oh so human part of you and looked as if she was offered every answer to every question in this universe.

“Lay down!”, the Doctor commanded as you tried to throw one of your legs over her shoulder, to get her face where you wanted it the most!

You eagerly complied, laying down on your back on her coat.

The ground beneath it was surprisingly lush, soft and plush, nothing like hard, uncomfortable grounds you knew from home on Earth. You had slept on beds that were not even half as perfect and snuggly as this random meadow on a random moon.

‘Sex moon’ your cloudy mind corrected.

It was like the moon wanted people to be comfortable after they inhaled the flower’s pollen.

You opened your legs for the Doctor and she crawled between them, but not before taking everything of your exposed sex in.

The still gently blowing breeze danced over your slick, wet bare core and provided you with a delicious tickle of sensual cold, that made your whole body tingle in lust.

You bucked your hips aimlessly into the wind, as if it could provide you with some friction.

While the wind was cool, you were getting hotter and bothered by the second.

The Doctor’s eyes glittered and she beamed at you.

“You are even more beautiful than I imagined you would be! So wet, so hot, so ready for me…”

Normally you would have been ashamed, self-conscious or shy at words or even looks like hers but the untameable desire in you burned all of your fear or shame down to dust. What was left was your lust, your passion and your love for the Doctor.

And your need for the Doctor to finally, finally touch you.

But after the Doctor was done with her admiring, she crawled on top of you, kneeling between your legs and took once again your nipple in her mouth. You groaned in frustration and pleasure.

This was not were you wanted her tongue to go.

You were still bucking your hips, this time towards her, as she pushed two fingers into your vagina.

You yelped and moaned out loud as her thumb started to stroke your clit.

“More, more, more”, you pleaded with each thrust as you still bucked, now at her hand.

And she added a third finger. She pushed knuckle-deep inside you, curled her fingers upwards and also sucked and nibbled on your nipple with even more force.

“Ahhhh!”

You cried out, pleasure and lust washing over you and yet it was not enough.

“Ahhh, MORE!”

She let go of your nipple and smiled at you, you looked at her a little confused and questioning but her fingers still pumping inside of you and massaging your clit kept you occupied.

“I have something for you, let me get it…”

She slowed down her pace and reached around into the pocket of her trousers and took out her screwdriver.

You watched her every move and as she put it to a low vibrating setting you were starting to be intrigued. You even forgot your disappointment about her slower movements.

“Lift your bottom, please, my love”, she urged you and you raised your butt even higher into the air, you had it partially there anyways to meet her hands and movements.

She removed her fingers from you and you looked at her angrily, you were too weak, to lust-stridden to express your disappointment vocally.

She shook her head.

“Don’t be angry at me, you asked for more and I will give you more!”

And she carefully parted your buttocks and placed her buzzing screwdriver right between them.

The screwdriver’s vibration went over your anus as well partly towards your vagina.

You bit your lips, this was going to be very good!

And the Doctor returned to insert three fingers inside you, immediately starting pumping and massaging your clit with her thumb and biting and pulling on your nipples.

She varied the directions of her tongue on your nipple, drew numbers and letters and all kind of patterns onto you clit with her thumb and took all the time in the world to fill you out with her fingers, stroking, massaging your insides and curling her fingers, finding out which directions got you to scream the loudest…

The vibrating screwdriver on your ass added extra pleasure and you were not holding back.

You bucked your hips, rode along the screwdriver, as much as you could, took her fingers in and screamed out your pleasure into the world around you.

Your moans and screams echoed around you in the forest and it just turned you on even more.

And what you did not know was that the Doctor was a mess, hearing you, hearing the echoes of your screams, feeling you, your wetness all over her hand and your beautiful breast in her mouth made her insides burn just as much.

And then you came. You bucked your hips against her one last time and screamed louder than before. It just came over you.

An orgasm so intense like you never experienced it before.

You think you blacked out for a moment, overcome with your hot, intense relief.

You panted and slowly came back into your body.

And the Doctor?

Her body ached and ached and ached, her desire just as hot as yours, she could not wait to come herself. To be touched by you, to be held by you…

She had carefully continued to pump her fingers inside of you through your orgasm, now she took them out again, stroke over your clit one last time and kissed the nipple she had last worked on.

You laid back, panting.

You slowly came back into your body and took the Doctor in, how she sat between your legs, and grinned.

Your aching, burning pain had subsided but was not gone completely, it had turned down enough that you knew that this had been incredible but that your Doctor was there and still unpleasured. Still unsatisfied.

She rocked back and forth, pushing her legs together.

“Hmm…” You sat up and cocked your head to the side.

“Looks like it’s my turn now to be good to you. Don’t you think?”

“You do not have to do it. I can take care of it myself, you do not have to do anything…”

You sighed, sometimes (very often) you wondered what was going on inside this woman’s head. Did she still think that you did not want her, did not want to touch her?

“Ohhh, no… I want to… desperately”, you darted forwards and kissed her neck, sucking on her skin, her hands immediately grabbed your waist and she sighed, laying her head back to give you more space to kiss her and you smiled against her skin.

“And I also want to make you scream, like you did to me…”, you whispered into her ear, after you sucked on her earlobe.

The Doctor shivered at your words and groaned softly at your soft lips on her ear.

She wanted your lips everywhere!

“But first we need to remove that”, your finger tips graced the neckline of her shirt and she nodded, eyes glued to you.

She raised her arms and you helped her out of her shirt and the tank top with the broad straps underneath and you found that she was also wearing a simple bra.

You removed it and immediately kissed her shoulders, upper chest, breast and nipples like she had done to yours.

She moaned, it was a high-pitched surprised sound that made you smile proudly and that also made your insides tighten again.

You stroke down the sides of her body with soft, determined fingers and stopped at her trousers. You looked up at her and she nodded wordlessly, her eyes still big and in awe.

So you opened her trousers and pushed them down, while she laid back and lifted her cute bottom to the air to assist you.

When she laid there, bare and open, you admired her, just like she had done when you had laid there before her.

But she pushed her legs together and also crossed her arms over her chest.

“Are you uncomfortable? Should I stop?”, you looked at her with a worried expression, you were confused by her actions, but yet she was visible aroused and wanted you. Were the pollen affecting her differently than you?

“I never slept with anyone in this body!”, she admitted, the words tumbling out of her as if she was afraid that she would never say them if she was not quick enough.

“I do not really know how. I want you to feel good and safe and… I don’t know what to do…”, she added with big, worried puppy eye.

“I have a few ideas”, you grinned and laid down next to her on your side.

“You don’t have to do anything and if you don’t like it or I am bad at it we stop and try something else…”

The Doctor looked at you with pure desire in her eyes and you felt her squirm next to you.

“Now…”, you carefully swung a leg over her and straddled her, “I’ll start kissing your neck, we know you enjoy that!”

And with that you were back at sucking, nibbling, softly biting and marking her neck, wandering down to her chest, to her stomach and then finally to her pelvic area.

While you had been working on her, she became first finally relaxed and had then slowly started to open up to you and your touches.

“Ohhh Y/N!”, she had moaned and her legs had opened and her hips bucked and you could not hide a pleasant shit-eating grin, while you kissed her down her stomach.

Your hand carefully parted her legs a little wider and palmed her vulva, she bucked against it immediately.

You grinned again.

You could not believe your luck, the Doctor moaning your name in pleasure, bucking and rutting against you, asking for more from you…

You went on to kiss over her stomach and her lower abdomen and stopped right before you reached the insides of her thighs.

“Hnnnghhh, Y/N… Please!”

Oh how you wanted to hear that, to hear her moan and beg for more from you.

And you happily obliged.

You opened her folds with one hand and kissed directly onto her hot, wet core.

She jolted up, as your lips reached her and moaned.

“So this is what it feels like…”, she said and you licked directly through her slick folds and the Doctor gasped.

And you went all in. Sucking on her clit, pushing a finger inside of her, feeling her walls around it, pumping a little and then exchanging your finger with your tongue, drawing patterns all over her.

Pushing your tongue inside of her, licking as much as you could reach…

“Ohhhhhhhh, plea-please! Don’t stop, don’t ever stop!”, the Doctor begged, clawing at the floor beneath her, pushing herself into your face.

“Deeper, deeper!”, she screamed as you used your fingers and tongue simultaneously on her, pushing deep inside her, licking and lapping all of her overflowing wetness…

“Y/N, I’m gonna… I’m gonna…” and she came and screamed and nearly squirted and bucked her hips and you suckled on her clit throughout her orgasm, letting her ride it out.

The Doctor breathed out and laid back, her chest was heaving and you admired your work.

The Doctor all loose, satisfied and torn apart.

The Oncoming Storm stilled at your hands and tongue. At your love.

She propped herself up on her elbows so that she could look at you and breathed out.

“Whew, this was something, wasn’t it?”

You nodded.

“Oh yes!”

“We should try to get back to the TARDIS as long as we still can”, she said while sitting up and reaching for her clothes.

You followed her movements and your shoulders slumped.

Was she done with you, was this an one time thing due to dangerous pollen and an immediate threat?

You sighed and breathed in deeply, your arms and legs felt like jelly and you just wanted to rest for a awhile on this beautiful lush planet with the sweet, flowery air and the Doctor between your thighs.

You felt yourself getting all tingly and aroused again, apparently you were not done yet…

“Doctor can we please stay for a moment? If this was the last time that this happened I want to take it all in…”

The Doctor was already pulling up her trousers again and tucking her shirt in as she turned towards you, smiling brightly and bending down to you.

“Listen, YN, listen very closely now”, she took your face in her hands and you just wanted to melt into her eyes full of stars. Her beautiful lips, swollen and pink and perfect…

“Y/N, I love you, I love you very much but we have to get off this planet! The wind has turned, don’t you smell it? The pollen are everywhere now and while I feel like I have never felt before, thanks to you and I hope, and think I know,”, she smiled proudly at these words, “you feel like I do, too, we have to get away from here NOW!

The more pollen we breathe in, the more dangerous they become to our nervous system and right now we are in the strongest place to fight them off. We both climaxed very nicely and our bodies are happy and relaxed, so please, get off the ground now!”

She was right. Your orgasm had helped to think more clearly again and while your skin and nipples and pussy and overall your whole body was sensitive and excited about being touched again, you still felt like yourself.

And maybe she was down to continue once you were safely in the TARDIS…

“Okay”, you sighed and pushed yourself up.

You quickly put on your panties, blouse and pants, there you had to grab her arm for stability and stuffed your bra into the pocket of your pants. You definitely did not feel like wearing it, too tight and unpleasant and putting it on just took too much time.

The Doctor grabbed your hand but instead of starting to walk she pulled you closer to her.

“You know we can continue again as soon as we are in the TARDIS… You know that, right?”, she quickly purred into your ear and a warm shiver ran down your spine and you giggled excitedly.

“Yes please!”

And the two of you ran towards the TARDIS, laughing, giggling like school girls.

Once inside you collapsed to the ground, trying to catch your breath while the Doctor was working on the console.

“Hey”, she turned to you, “I know a beautiful nebula, there are no flowers and definitely no people around, we can be just on our own…”

She came closer, while the TARDIS was wheezing and huffing around you, squatting down next to you.

“There I can make you scream even louder than on the moon…

I could kiss you and nib you and taste you and I promise you will forget your own name…”

“Is that so?”, you whispered, voice low and breathy and you slowly, tantalisingly so, opened the buttons on your blouse, one by one, the Doctor’s eyes glued to your every move.

She gulped and you smiled.

#doctor who #new who #thirteenth doctor #thirteenth doctor x reader #doctor x reader #thirteen x reader #thirteenth doctor x you #smut #shameless smut #sex pollen #dubious consent #reader insert #readerinserts #gender neutral reader #afab reader #13th doctor #jodie whittaker #thirteenth doctor x female reader #female reader

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biteofcherry · 10 months

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Since the trope i voted for in your birthday poll didn't win 😭 tell us what ideas you had for the prompts that lost

Oh god, I haven't thought about them in depth (since I tried my best to avoid getting hyped up for ten more new ideas 🤣), so I'll give you a spontaneous answer:

dark beefy college guy would be Bucky, who uses your tipsy state to teach your body to crave him when you're sober too and has visual proof to show you how much you begged him for more, so you might as well beg for it without drunk courage

Vikings would be about Steve and Ari, brothers who share the crown and share the spoils of war princess - you

dark brother's best friend would be Andy, who appears so sweet and what every parents want for their daughter, but in fact is very manipulative and obssessive

werewolf and royalty would be with Bucky starting as a loyal knight protecting you - the princess - from the bloodthirsty troops of werewolves that attacked your kingdom only to in the end after you've given yourself to him willingly reveals that he is in fact a werewolf leader and you're now his and so is your kingdom

god's sacrifice would be Steve as the god of fire to whom you vow to serve after your beloved breaks your heart, but you quickly learn that the god doesn't want your chastity and prayers, he wants something different from you

fantasy enemies to lovers would be some rivaling fae clans, or fae versus humans, with Steve as your enemy who takes your injured body from the battle field as a prisoner, but keeps taking care of you and protecting you

fake dating with a dark twist would be with Bucky whom you find on a dating app and ask to be your fake boyfriend, so that you don't have to marry a mobster your family sold you to but then it turns out Bucky is in fact James the man you are forced to marry and he's been playing you all along

#obviously I'm not including Hades/Persephone and the biker AU because I will be writing that #anonymous #reply #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #ari levinson x reader #andy barber x reader

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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 8 months

Text

What is Broken (Aemond Targaryen x Pregnant Wife!Reader) SNEAK PEEK

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (third person, no use of Y/N), side Aemond Targaryen x Alys Rivers

Warnings: Angst, pregnancy and related symptoms, infidelity, maybe smut in the future idk

Author's note: Ok well since Studious came out of me trying to power through my writer's block, hopefully this'll not only be as good, but also work as well for kicking writer's block's ass. Idk how long it's gonna be. It's based on a convo I had with the Aemond AI (made by @foxyanon ) on a day when I just didn't feel like being happy at all. Coming soon (I hope)!

What is Broken Sneak Peek

It was a lovely night in King’s Landing.

Every bit of it grated on her heart like a whetstone across dull steel.

The worst night of one’s life should not be so lovely, she thought. It should be terrible. With storms and an angry sea, and perhaps even a raging fire somewhere in the distance.

The people would cheer him in the streets as he rode toward the castle. The victorious Prince, returning after long months at war, having not only ended the war itself but avenged the deaths of his sister, brother, and his little nieces and nephews.

Daemon Targaryen and his dragon had perished above the God’s Eye, the waters below boiling when their bodies fell into its depths.

Harrenhal. A cursed place, now to be the site of great diplomacy.

Even thinking about the horrible castle was enough to turn her stomach.

She knew that her husband was only returning home because of the letter.

My dear Princess,

Despite the conflict between our sides of the family, I have always thought you a rather sweet girl. Therefore, it is with the deepest regret that I must now shoulder the burden of informing you of your beloved husband’s improper conduct during this awful conflict…

A pang of nausea shot through her stomach as she remembered the words.

A mistress… some Strong bastard… called Alys, my spies tell me… every night, without fail… from the very first week… another bastard babe in the whore’s witchly womb…

“My princess, I cannot, in good conscience, tell you a lie…”

She had screamed then. And cried. And possibly thrown things at the Kingsguard, but she couldn’t entirely remember.

Less than a moon’s turn later, he had taken another woman to his bed, and seeded her, too.

#What is Broken #aemond #aemond targaryen #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #house of the dragon aemond #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd aemond #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x y/n #ewan mitchell

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punemy-spotted · 10 months

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A Family Sleepover, Down in the Valley

It’s been about two years since I first wrote Dead Trees Like Lavender Fields, and the town of Bell’s Holler was born. I know it’s not quite the actual anniversary — I’m pretty sure that passed — but I want to celebrate anyway! I’ve missed the Valley, and I’ve missed y’all being a part of the Family. I’m excited to add more stories to the universe, talk lore and what-ifs, and in general get spooky with it.

As such, from now until my birthday on August 19, 2023, I am opening up my inbox to all manner of Valley-related things, including the following:

Seven Sentence Somedays: Send em an ask with a fluffy, smutty, or hurt/comfort prompt of your choice + any CE, SebStan, or other character listed below. You might just get a lore drop or bring out hidden ideas for a Valley-related story!

Hainted Headcanons: Got questions about the true name of Bell’s Holler or what it really means to be Green? Wanna know about your favorite Babe and who they are in the Valley — Agent of the Inner Dark, Guardian of the Gren, or somethin’ more besides? Curious about each story’s individual Reader and who they might be? Send an ask! Hainted Headcanons are more in-depth explorations of the world this Alternate Appalachia and the people living and shaping it.

Moodboard Minin’: If you know me, you know I love a good Moodboard and you know I love an excuse to make ‘em. Send me a request and I’ll put together a moodboard for a possible Valley-verse story, or even an alternate story for an existing Valley character!

Asks will be responded to on a rolling basis, to the best of my ability! Thank all of you for being here with me!

Current Members of the Valley-Verse

Steve Rogers — Glory, Amen

Bucky Barnes — Dead Trees like Lavender Fields

Sam Wilson — Company Property (TBA)

Ari Levinson — A Worthy Grave

Curtis Everett — Sixteen Tons (coming soon!)

Possible (Future) Members of the Valley-Verse

Charles Blackwood

Jake Jensen

Andy Barber

Lloyd Hansen

Ransom Drysdale

Helmut Zemo

Lee Bodecker

I’m tagging some moots who showed interest in the Valley-verse and associated fics, including my stalwart beloved @brandycranby. As always, I love you and thank you for being here!!!

Tagging: @iwannabekilledtwice; @boxofbonesfic; @wordywarriorwrites; @patzammit; @valhalla-kristin; @sanfransolomitatm; @professorrw; @chipilerendi; @biiskuitx; @hope-to-hell; @toozmanykids; @imanuglywombat; @caffiend-queen; @federalchickensoup; @mansaaay; @ccmarvelxx; @hallecarey1; @justile; @kuranes-12; @hotnmad;

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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 11 months

Text

𓃮 Even the Sun Influences the Tide: Chapter Fourteen

Even the Sun Influences the Tide: After the death of your foster brother, King T’Challa, you had spent much of your year of mourning in isolation. When your mother gathers you and your sister to end your mourning period, you encounter the newest threat to Wakanda: Namor. You don’t know what to think of Namor, but you do know one thing: he probably shouldn’t be making trips to see you at your beach hut.

Warnings: Couples First Fight.

To Note: Namor/K’uk’ulkan x Fem!Reader, I Tried To Make The Yucatec Maya & Xhosa Translations/Traditions As Accurate As I Can Get.

Word Count: ~2.0k

Previous | Masterlist | Next

You had been wandering around the caves, your fingers trailing across the beautiful murals K’uk’ulkan had painted, when you came across them. And by them, you meant the deep water diving suits. To be honest you had stared at them in confusion for a good five minutes, scratching your head, before you realized what they were. But why did K’uk’ulkan have these? One conversation later with your man/god, and you learned that the suits came from the Surface World. You quickly decided to not think about how he had gotten possession of them.

K’uk’ulkan all to easily distracted you with an offer of your first glimpse of Talokan in person. So you found yourself stuffed in one of the chunky suits, carefully fitted and double checked for a seal, and then being tugged through the water. There wasn’t much you could do in the suit. You felt clumsy and heavy in it and were sure that you were just along for the ride.

“Are you sure you are okay, In k'iino’?” K’uk’ulkan asked for what you felt was the thousandth time. Twisting your head within the suit while the earrings he had given you jangled, you looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“My current status hasn’t changed in the ten minutes since you last asked me, Ulwandle lwam (My sea),” You replied, your voice drifting through the deep water. K’uk’ulkan gave you a look. “I am currently wishing I had the ability to stand the water pressure down here because it is beautiful.”

“We haven’t even reached the outfields of Talokan.” He gruffly said, though still pleased that you were enjoying the sights of the underwater realm.

“My words still stand and you know it.” You huffed as the lights on the diving suit came to light when you descended into darkness. Even with the bright lights blasting their way through the darkness, you still couldn’t see anything. “I’m hoping that Talokan has lights because I can’t see anything.”

K’uk’ulkan smirked at the soft comment that you had muttered more to yourself that him. If you had been impressed by the humble murals he had painted within his home, K’uk’ulkan looked forward to seeing how you were going to react once you saw the true majesty of Talokan. Following along the strong current that ran by the great underwater city, K’uk’ulkan gently tugged you away from the stream and through a school of fish to emerge at the fringes of Talokan. It was a little disorienting, the change of pace, and you felt yourself rattling around in the large suit. But the moment you righted yourself and took in your first view of Talokan, you found your breath stolen from your chest.

“Ancestors,” You whispered, taking everything you saw. There were fields of crops being tended by the talokanil, children playing games, people just going about their day like normal. While you were rendered speechless, K’uk’ulkan smiled and tugged you along to give you the grand overview of his beloved city. Your mind was racing and your eyes were captured by the bright glowing lights that illuminated the city. The closer you looked, the more your mind was convinced that the glowing lights were made from vibranium. "Ch'ah Toh Almehen, those lights,” You commented. “They’re made of vibranium.”

“Yes. In the depths of the ocean, I brought my people the sun.” Your lips twitched, he really had given his people everything. A new home, protection, light. “They are called sastun, we use them for our rituals.”

“How does it work?” Your mind was having a hard time wrapping around the idea that vibranium could just glow by itself. The boots of the dive suit landed on the pyramid the sastun floated above and you leaned your head back. “The light refractory…”

“We create our own plant and obsidian based fibers in the leaves to harness the glow of algae.” K’uk’ulkan explained. Your face scrunched and you turned your entire body towards him.

“You gave your people fiber optics!?”

Back in the cavern, you held your hands clasped against your chest as your mind raced. After having a wonderful and extraordinary time viewing Talokan, you thought of your own home. You needed to go back. Talk with your mother about K’uk’ulkan, convince her and the other elders that an alliance with the Talokanil would benefit Wakanda. She wanted to keep vibranium out of the hands of the other nations, but now that Wakanda wasn’t the only source… It was imperative that Wakanda and Talokan worked together.

“In reina?” Letting out a breath, you turned to look at Zyanya who had been quietly keeping watch. “Ba'ax k'abéet a ba'al?” (Need anything?) Another guessing game… you had been pacing around and staring off into space for the last half hour, so perhaps she was asking if you needed something? Well you needed to speak with K’uk’ulkan… you might as well ask for him.

“K’uk’ulkan,” You replied, your mind scrambling for the few words you had been taught over the last ten days. They were just simple one word phrases that you could use to indicate what you wanted, but it was better than not being able to speak a word of Yucatec Maya. “T’aan (Message),” You said, hoping that she would understand your want. Zyanya blinked before nodding and making a follow gesture. You steeled yourself and followed her. Zyanya took a different path, heading down one you hadn’t explored before.

Your stomach twisted in knots and for the first since meeting K’uk’ulkan, you were nervous to talk to him. The last thing you wanted was for him to think you were running away, or abandoning him and his people. Certainly not after the ceremony which you still questioned its purpose… though you were starting to have your suspicions. Never mind that, what you needed to do was smooth over your mothers ruffled feathers.

Following Zyanya, she brought you to a cavern that had several warriors standing about, with Attuma speaking to K’uk’ulkan. You didn’t catch the quick words departing K’uk’ulkan mouth, but Attuma bowed his head.

“Tene Tin na'atik (I understand),” The large Talokanil spoke before turning his broad shoulders. It was at that moment that the warriors and K’uk’ulkan realized that you were standing in the entry way.

“Apologies if I am interrupting,” You spoke, your eyes glossing over Attuma as he sized you up. Your gaze landed on K’uk’ulkan. “I need to speak with you if permissible.” K’uk’ulkan raised his eyebrow at you, wondering why you were speaking in such a formal way.

“In biin (I’m going),” Attuma rumbled as he and the other warriors headed for the exit, when he reached you, he respectfully bowed his head. “In reina,” Your eyes caught his dark ones and you gave him a respectful chin nod.

“Attuma,” You greeted, your eyes following his large body as he and the others passed. You waited patiently as they left, and then five seconds more for privacy, all the while K’uk’ulkan looked at you with a raised eyebrow and tilted head.

“You speak so formally, In reina,” K’uk’ulkan drew out, his eyes washing over your body and posture. Something had made you uptight. You cleared your throat, thinking about how to start this conversation. “What is it, In k'iino’?”

“I need to go home,” You stated, deciding to just get right to the point. Immediately K’uk’ulkan’s face changed, shifting from attentive to narrowed. Displeasure flowed through his veins along with a touch of possession. You were his yatan and yet you wished to go home? Was Talokan not your home now? What use did you have by going home?

“Are you not satisfied here, In reina?” He questioned, his voice coming out a little harder than he meant. You sighed and went to further explain, but K’uk’ulkan wasn’t done speaking. “Have you’d decided that our way of life is no one you wish to live?”

“What?” You questioned, stepping forwards to face him without the large gap of space between you. “Ch'ah Toh Almehen, that is not what I am saying. I need to go home and figure out this mess, with the Americans and—“

“I will not have you in a position of vulnerability, Y/N,” K’uk’ulkan flat out rejected. “Neither will I allow the Americans to ever be in the position to entertain the idea of using you against us.”

“Ch'ah— They won’t—“ You sighed out in frustration, feeling as if he wasn’t listening to you. You were trying to protect him, his people. “I am trying to help why are you not letting me? I’m not going to stay there, I already agreed to stay when I did that ceremony. Why aren’t you letting me help!?”

“Because you are going to get hurt,” You almost rolled your eyes.

“I will not,” You retorted. “The Dora Milaje would never let that happen.”

“We both know that you would run off the first chance presented.” K’uk’ulkan countered, stepping closer to you, his eyes dead of emotion now. “Not even the best warriors would keep you safe because you do not listen.”

Gritting your teeth, you forced yourself not to let his lack of emotions get to you. But it already had.

“I can take care of myself,” You said, one last attempt to get him to just listen to you. K’uk’ulkan had already made up his mind on this topic, you were not going anywhere with the American’s on the loose and searching for any way into Talokan, let alone with the Wakandan’s not cooperating.

“Can you?” K’uk’ulkan offered. “The answer is no, in reina,” Your heart dropped in your chest. “I will not risk it.”

You jerked around in a circle as Xhosa curses spilled from your lips in rapid succession. Emotions were running rampant throughout your body twisting together in a noxious tornado of hurt and anger.

“Do not do anything you may regret, In k'iino’,” K’uk’ulkan called as you stormed away, the skirt and beads of your dress flapping behind you. You couldn’t help the childish return of giving him the middle finger over your shoulder. As you stormed through the halls of the many caverns, tears began burning at the edge of your eyelashes. You furiously wiped at your nose and then eyes, feeling frustrated and stuck in place.

It was midafternoon, but by the time you walked off all the anger and rage you felt, the dimmed lights in the corridor told you that it was nighttime. You came to a stop in the middle of the hall and took in a shuddering breath. Ancestors why were you so upset? It wasn’t like he was being mean to you. Just emotionless. Out of everyone in your life, you expected him to listen to you, because he had been the one to make an effort to… but now he wasn’t. And that hurt.

You closed your eyes and leaned your head back, willing your tears to stop falling down your face and dry up against your lashes. Sniffing one last time, you slapped your cheeks before hearing the sound of foot falls. You turned around to see Tlalli emerging from a turn to your left.

“In reina,” She greeted you, bowing her head. “Cena,” She then murmured, holding out her hand towards the way she had come. Cena. The word you had come to associate with dinner. You wiped your eyes one last time, and nodded. Following the blue skinned woman, you were led back to familiar blue halls and then the room that you considered yours. Zyanya was already waiting for you, fiddling with a set up of different dishes. She flashed you a bright smile and bowed as you approached.

“In reina,” You managed a smile in return, clapping your hands together at your breast and bowing your own head.

“Níib óolal (Thank you), Zyanya, Tlalli,” You murmured. Then you glanced at the space opposite where you usually sat. K’uk’ulkan had a habit of sitting with you while you ate, it was the rare occasion you saw him actually consume food. Sighing, you spoke your next question already knowing the answer. “K’uk’ulkan?” Both woman gave you sadden gazes.

“Ma'taali'teeni’, In reina,” Zyanya answered softly. Sorry. You were left to eat by yourself.

Date Published: 6/4/23

Last Edit: 4/5/23

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#k'ul'kulkan #namor #namor x y/n #namor fanfiction #namor of talokan #namor x reader

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manwrre · 6 months

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Gay billy rights, but have you ever considered chrissy and billy? It's such an out of left field ship, but i honestly can't get enough.

He could teach her how to stand up for herself, and she would soften his edges a bit and show him what it's like to actually be loved.

Platonic or romantic, calicheer my BELOVED

listen because…because….BECAUSE i have considered it. besties!calicheer is one of my favorite freaking things. whenever i see it in fics, it’s always such a pleasant surprise. i feel like chrissy’s usually a chara that you see kinda adjacent to steve because of his proximity to eddie and alladat BUT….

you’re so right. i think she would be so gentle and so genuine with him, as a romantic interest. she’d probably be one of the only people that sees through his front/the image that he projects of having little to no emotional depth + interest in things other than sex. and i think he’d see himself in her a lot and not wanna hurt her.

i could see her treating him like a troublesome little brother, where she scolds him or holds his hands through the tough bits, in a platonic rs. esp when she realizes (before a lot of people do) that he’s being abused :( and vice versa. or maybe billy treats HER like a little sister and always backs her up when people underestimate her or reduce her to a stereotype. he’d drape his jacket over her shoulders when she’s cold and share his lunch with her just so he’s sure she’s eating. calicheer? saddest + most wholesome ship ever.

#billy hargrove #chrissy cunningham #calicheer #billy x chrissy #chrissy x billy #your honor i love them #now what #you’re so freaking right #stranger things #chrissy deserved better #billy deserved better #they deserved each other in some capacity #chrissy stranger things #billy stranger things

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violettduchess · 1 year

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for the angst ask (thanks for opening them btw) vlad and illness? he waited so long for his mc (gn) just to watch them slowly dying in front of him, their last moments and what that entails? I want to be crushed haha

A/N: Hello anon! I took a little bit of artistic liberty here because I had an idea so its not illness, but rather an accident. The rest of the request is still honored.

CW: death, loss

Vlad x gn reader

Word Count: 1783

A Pureblood vampire has nothing but time. It becomes their only constant, the one fixed thing they can depend on as the world around them evolves and changes. The flow of time brings mighty mountains to their knees and changes the course of rivers. It has seen man crawl, then walk and now, in the late 19th century, begin to run as technology makes leaps and bounds within shorter and shorter time spans. And one sure thing about time: it never stops.

How does one bear the weight of years and decades and centuries? Vlad has found a way. Something that fascinates him.

People.

He has loved them with a ferocity sharp and deadly. That their lives are so fleeting, rising like sparks from a fire only to blink out of existence and return to darkness within mere decades, is what makes them precious. Worth fighting for. And he has never loved a human, or any other being, as much as he loves you.

You were the one he waited for. The one who imprinted yourself upon him like a brand, your essence burned into his soul with a heat that never subsided as he waited all those long years for you. And when the time came, when you understood who he was and what you meant to him, when you returned those extraordinary feelings of love and desire, he understood the words Shakespeare had penned when writing his greatest love story:

“My bounty is as boundless as the sea

My love as deep.

The more I give to thee,

The more I have,

for both are infinite.”

You gave his world a beauty far beyond that field of roses he holds so dear. Vlad’s heart holds entire universes of love only for you.

Which is why, when you told him you did not want to be turned, despite the consequence of death, he never once questioned it. He had simply raised your hands to his lips, his claret eyes closing as he pressed a kiss into your skin, accepting your decision.

And decided then and there he would dedicate every moment you had together to bringing you joy. He would show you the world and in return, give the world the gift of your smile.

Which is why you were in London, exploring the world’s largest city and breathtaking capital of the British Empire. You were staying at Claridge’s, one of the grandest hotels London had to offer, and swept up in the whirlwind of pleasures Vlad had arranged: an outfit tailored just for you at London’s most exclusive boutique, high tea at one of the oldest tea houses in the city, a boat ride on the Thames. As you disembarked, hand in hand, a young boy was waiting with a message for Vlad. A mystery item he had commissioned was finished and would he care to come pick it up or have it delivered to the hotel? His rose-colored eyes had gleamed, his excitement dancing within their depths and along the curve of his lips. He would come right away. When you had asked what this mysterious item was, he had simply smiled softly. You would see soon, beloved. Go, the carriage that would take you back to the hotel was waiting just across the street. He would meet you in the hotel’s salon for supper.

You parted, his smile still warming your heart against the misty London air and you took the time to watch his tall figure grow smaller and smaller as he walked with the young boy down the street, eventually disappearing from view as they rounded a corner. Your heart could not be any fuller, your soul could not be more content. Vlad was the key that unlocked the truth about love: it mattered, more than anything. He mattered more than anything. Loving him had transformed your world into something so perfect it could be called heaven. You were so lost in your starry-eyed thoughts, your mind floating in the clouds on a breeze of affection and anticipation, you did not pay attention as you stepped onto the street.

You did not see the carriage with its spooked horse barreling towards you.

You did not hear the shout of warning.

You stepped out into the street.

And your world went black.

It’s tucked safely into the inside pocket of his jacket, carefully wrapped in the softest black velvet. One look at the pin, a detailed red rose made from the purest rubies with its emerald leaves and curving stem, made by one of the finest jewelers in Europe, and he knew it was worth every cent. It was a work of art and he was proud of the design he had created. He wanted something unique, something custom-made that no one else the world over could have, a symbol of his feelings for you and a sign to all who saw it that you, like the rose, are a rarity worth remembering, a beautiful spirit worth marveling at.

He turns the corner onto the street where you had gone ashore after your boat tour, his mind running through the way he imagines you will smile when he presents his gift, a smile that rivals the sun in all its brightness. All thought however screeches to a halt as he notices the crowd gathered, blocking most of the way. There are police wagons and officers doing their best to keep people away from something on the road. Vlad passes an elderly man sitting on the filthy flat pavement meant for pedestrians, his dirt-streaked face blanched with shock, hands shaking as he tries to drink from a flask. He hears the mumbled words, repeated over and over to no one in particular:

“The horse stepped on a nail. I couldn’t control it. I couldn’t stop it. It stepped on a nail. I couldn’t stop it. They came out of nowhere. I couldn’t stop it-”

Uneasiness begins to slowly creep down Vlad’s spine like a spider descending on its silken thread. He was planning to walk around the crowd, his long legs swiftly taking him away from the buzzing and gawking of the crowd so he could get to you, his light, his love, and make sure you were ok. He will never be able to answer why he didn’t stick with this. Why instead of walking around the crowd, his feet begin taking him through it.

Each step feels like the earth is trying to stop him, gravity is desperately pulling at his legs, trying to slow him. His feet feel like they are made of granite, dragging along as he shoulders his way through the dense, foul-smelling mass. Each beat of his heart becomes louder, the crowd’s murmuring becomes distorted. Fate has wrapped his heartstrings around her cruel fingers and pulls, forcing him to shamble his way toward a truth that will sunder his very soul.

He breaks through the throng.

And sees you lying there, your soft hair touching the filth of the street, your head pillowed by hard, uneven cobblestones.

Someone has thrown what looks like a shabby picnic blanket over your body, but Vlad can smell the blood through the fibers, through the grime of a London street. Your eyes are open, blinking rapidly, your lips trembling as you mouth one word. He recognizes the shape of his name.

“I’m here, beloved.” How he manages to speak through a throat full of thorns is a miracle, another question with no answer. He sinks to his knees beside you, feeling the dampness soak through his trousers, the hard stone biting at him. “I’m here.” You turn your head and the effort that costs you is evident in the flickering light of your beautiful eyes. He reaches out with a shaking hand, the movement slow as if underwater, and manages to brush your hair off of your forehead with infinite tenderness. His fingers are stained red with the blood trickling down your temple. He repeats the motion anyway.

Your breathing is labored and erratic but you refuse to look away, holding his gaze for as long as you can.

“I’m…..sorry.” Your voice wheezes, rough with strain.

His heart shatters into a thousand pieces. Tiny shards that embed themselves into his own lungs, that twist his stomach into a Gordian knot, that pierce his very soul and cling, barb-like and heavy.

“No, my love. My dearest one. No.” He smiles. It is a reflex, a gesture of comfort. His lips shift without him even conscious of it. Words continue to find a way through his blocked throat. Because he knows you need them. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” His hand, still trembling lightly, slides down, cupping your face, the one he has loved for ages, the one white as bone and red with blood. “I love you.”

A shudder wracks your body and your eyes close. For a moment you don’t breathe and panic seizes him, gripping his mind with hands of steel. No, no. Just another moment. No.

And then you manage another breath. Your eyes open again, seeking his. Your lips part and he leans down to catch your labored, whispered words.

“I’m….scared.”

The truth of it bears down on him. He has seen death so often that it had become as innocuous as the changing of the seasons. Spring follows winter, autumn follows summer. People are born, live out the time they are given, and then die.

And yet your words have turned the world upside down. Death is no longer an abstract, cyclical idea. It is real. It is on that grimy cobblestone street, leaning over you, reaching down, seconds away from taking you away from him forever. Stealing every place you never went. Every kiss you haven’t shared. Every declaration of love yet to be spoken.

Vlad presses his lips to your cold forehead, his hand still cupping your face.

“I’m here, beloved. I promise, it will be okay. I’m with you.”

Your eyes are on him, but they are no longer focused. The flame of life inside of them is sputtering as the curtains slowly close on your mortality. Your breathing becomes rapid, uneven, louder. The sound forever burns itself into his memory.

You draw one breath.

His soul quakes. Don’t go, beloved.

And then another.

Beloved……I’m scared.

And then you are still, sightless eyes gazing into nothingness.

……..beloved?......

And his world goes black.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @bubblexly

#ikemen series #ikemen vampire #ikemen vamp #ikevamp vlad #cw death #cw loss #vlad x reader #broken heartstrings #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen fanfic #otome fanfic #violettwrites

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