#drop to my knees and just weep and weep and weep. they are everything to me. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hwanchaesong · 1 day

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Idyllic (Mutual Pining) Preview

pairing: Jake X F!Reader

synopsis: He conceals his presence well and you are a good secret keeper. A combination that ends up in a museum of doubts and hesitance. Then again, a game of hide and seek never hurt anyone, right?

word count: tba

genre & warnings: angst, smut, fluff, warnings tba

a/n: this is a teaser for the upcoming Enhypen: Tropes & Parallels series that i've been working on. i hope y'all look forward to it. please don't hesitate to tell me if you wanted to be added to the taglist. tysm 🩷

You tried to hold your tears back, keen on not showing any signs of weakness, not on a special day like this.

It's your birthday, for fucks sake!

The day you were born, the day you graced the earth with your presence. It's a day where you're supposed to feel like you're the only girl in the world.

So why the fuck are you outside, in the garden of the party hall that your friends went through the trouble of renting? Why the fuck are you sitting on a grass while wearing your prettiest dress, weeping like a child?

"Y/N? Why did you leave the party?"

Ah, there's the reason.

Sim fucking Jaeyun, better known as Jake.

"No reason," you tried to stabilize your voice, key word: tried, "just needed some fresh air."

Jake squinted his eyes at your slumped figure, he'd be lying if he says that he believes that pathetic excuse of a lie that you told him. He'd be kidding himself if he says that he wasn't able to read your body language, clearly, something is bothering you.

"Tell me." he declares, walking closer to you and that turned on a switch in you, panicking on what you should say because he can't see you like this.

He's not supposed to see you in such a sorry state, sporting Rudolf's red nose when it's months away from Christmas. Fat, ugly tears pooling in your eyes and your mascara must be ruined by now. He's not supposed to see you being this down bad for him, to the point that you're willing to bawl your eyes out in a place like this.

"Don't come near me! Please, leave me alone." you accidentally yelled at him, wrapping your arms around yourself and totally losing it. You hid your face on your arms, sobbing quietly, not having it in you to continue bearing the pain of having the love of your life be the loss of your life in one night.

It was your fault. Everything was your fault.

You didn't confess to him when you had the chance. You let him meet new girls, you supported him when he said that he wanted to talk with the girl that was recently transferred in your class.

It was your fault for being a mess, for being a coward. It was your fault for settling in the title of being friends.

The times when you shared secret glances across the room, the touches that were far too long to be considered platonic but never really given the meaning that they deserve, the sweet nothings that you whisper to each other after a long, tiring day.

You were the culprit behind the heist, so really, you shouldn't act like the victim. It's unfair for him.

You deserve this, to be left alone, wallowing in self-pity and cursing yourself repeatedly until you couldn't breathe anymore.

As your castle crumbled, you felt warm arms around you, the familiar figure dropping to his knees, pulling you onto his sturdy body, fingers soothing through your tangled strands.

"Jake?" you whispered his name, hoping that it was him. Wishing that he didn't really leave you, that it's him holding you, comforting you through this situation that you've put yourself in.

He hummed, his answer making your heart explode into the most colorful shades of fireworks.

"I'll be the biggest asshole if I leave the girl I have prayed for all my life here, crying during the day that she was given to me by the gods."

taglist

@lilyuwon @ramenoil

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thedevotionaltour · 20 days

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thinking about daredevil yellow again im not. going to make it Guys.

#static.soundz #crying screaming and hitting the ground. so good. it made me cry really bad #bc whenever i think about jack n matt it always makes me think of me n my dad for various reasons #when matt said i couldnt feel his heartbeat inside me anymore. no words.#i rambled about it on my main but dd is very much intwined in an interesting and special way with my own heavy grief about my dad #and matt was a very important character to me during that time of my life for the exact same reason.#it's why i take a lot of very heavy issue when things try to make it so his dad died in his childhood as opposed to college #bc a) think it takes away a lot of the important nature of their relationship and b) my own personal projection #bc all grief at any stage is highly personal and unique and particular #but it really does feel like. matt is really just starting to become an adult (depending whether he dies when matt's in under or post grad)#(bc i can never remember which) but he's not quite a mega established one. there's still that lingering of childhood #so even though he's grown. it just hurts in a very particular way. they saw you grow up. but they didnt really see you become an adult.#they did not see the person you're going to be. that you are. that you're becoming. it feels like such a bizarre unfair moment in time.#bc why now? why not when i was younger? why not when i was truly an adult adult who is expecting to lose you now?#why at this moment and no other time?#but thinking about matt going i wish i told my dad how much i loved him.#more than anything when he goes 'i love you dad. did you hear? i love you.'#it made me cry like a fucking bitch. honest to god tearing up when i type about it. it wrenches my heart it twists it and it makes me wanna #drop to my knees and just weep and weep and weep. they are everything to me.#i have intertwined a lot of matt's grief with mine in a way that makes him so so so important to me. because as stupid as it fucking sounds #that comic and him as a character are everything to me. so genuinely. they were a lifeline my freshman year #when i was so depressed all i could do was read comics. or listen to music #i could do nothing else. i did. clearly. i did work and assignments. but dd was everything to me alongside dm #im sorry i am being an actual like nutbag in my tags im sorry i just have a lot of feelings. this story is everything to me ever ok? ok.

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perlelune · 4 months

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no body, no crime | Coriolanus Snow | vi.

Your childhood friend returns from his exile in district 12, but he's not the sweet, quiet boy you once knew anymore.

Warnings: NON-CON, Plinth!Reader, Gaslighting, Drugging, Murder, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Loss of Virginity, Somnophilia

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

An eternity seems to fly by as you wait for Coriolanus to do what you’re too terrified to do on your own. During the agonizing minutes, you picture William’s face. The confusion, the hurt. Tears skip down your cheeks as you curl over the blankets, knees against your chest.

Hopefully your reckless actions haven’t ruined what you two have. Maybe one day, you’ll even jest about it, the pre-wedding jitters that caused you to hide for a week.

It’s the meager hope you cling onto as the soft tap on the door draws you from your thoughts.

Coriolanus nudges the door open, a silver tray between his hands. A matching porcelain kettle and cup sit on the tray.

The mattress sinks as he sits on the edge of the bed, placing the steaming teapot at your bedside. Your gaze drags over the colorful roses painted on the porcelain set.

Tearful eyes rising to his face, you ask “H-How did it go?”

His long fingers drape over your cheek, wiping your tears as he smiles down at you. “Everything’s alright.” His deep soothing voice brings you comfort as it rolls over you. “Things will work out the way they’re supposed to, just like I promised you.” He collects the tea cup from the tray. The steam rising from it caresses your face.

“It’s my own personal blend of chamomile, peppermint and lavender, for your nerves.”

“I don’t need that.”

Concern sways in Coryo’s blue orbs, his thumb collecting another stray tear.

“You had an emotional day. It’ll help you sleep, trust me.”

You don’t reply, laying the side of your face against the pillow. Do you even deserve to sleep soundly after causing the people in your life so much unnecessary distress?

Maybe this is what you deserve, unending nights wrestling with your own mind while you drown in a river of your own tears. After all, if you hadn’t overindulged in alcohol that night, you wouldn’t be here. You still remember the way Coryo described it. Were you truly that desperate to bury Sejanus’ memory, to forget?

Coriolanus strokes the crown of your head.

“I just want you to get one good night of rest. You need it. Do you really want to spend the entire night torturing yourself when you’ve done nothing wrong?”

For a while, silence hangs between the two of you, Coriolanus letting you weep as he patiently cups your face. The aromatic scents of the herbs he mixed in the tea tickle your nose. You have to admit, it smells heavenly. Like peace. The thing you’re craving most at this very moment. For your thoughts and emotions to fall silent, allowing you to drift into a dreamless slumber.

So you surrender.

You sit up and graciously accept the cup Coryo offers you. As soon as the first few drops of the warm liquid coat your tongue, a heady, pleasant feeling swaddles your mind. It makes your body feel heavy, pleasant warm tingles swirling over your flesh.

“I’m starting to feel…”

Coryo’s beaming face starts blurring in your line of sight. Your grip on the cup weakens. He assists you in holding it, tipping the rim against your lips so you gulp another sip.

“Drink more. All of it.” You heed his instruction. The drowsiness grows tenfold. Your lids sag. Your body slumps over the pillows. You feel the soft brush of Coriolanus’s lips on your forehead. “Sweet dreams, princess.”

You awake from the best sleep you’ve had in literal weeks, a wide smile stretching over your lips as you unfurl from the sheets.

Unlike the nights before, you didn’t wake up in the middle of the night, screaming, crying or tossing and turning in bed.

You pivot to the sun rays spilling from between the curtains. You bask in the rejuvenating warmth kissing your skin. For a while, you stay like that, in awe that your mind isn’t crowded with anxious thoughts. Instead, you’re calm, rested, your head light as feathers. Even your grief is a faint noise when it’s usually so loud, its uproarious presence twisting your heart first thing most mornings.

It’s a newfound serenity you haven’t known in many weeks.

Even the bone-deep ache sitting in your limbs cannot cast a pale on the day. As you step in the rose-scented bath that’s been drawn for you, the soreness lingers. You grimace a little.

Perhaps you slept so heavily, your entire body is tense from it.

But as you lie back and let the hot water work its magic, the pain starts to fade. You let the strange sensation melt away, smiling once more.

You enjoy your bath. A bright, wonderful day awaits you.

When you’re done, you put on one of your favorite day dresses and hop down the stairs.

You find the entire Snow clan having breakfast in the dining room.

Coriolanus peeks from above the morning paper, his face brightening as his gaze flicks over you.

As you approach the empty chair near Grandma’am, Coriolanus rises and pulls it for you.

“Good morning,” you chime while plopping into your seat.

Tigris beams at you. “Good morning. I see someone’s feeling better.”

You tuck your hands into your lap as a maid places a scrumptious plate of eggs and meat in front of you. Your stomach growls at the sight and you pick up your fork, excited to dig into the food. You haven’t had a proper meal since you left Ma and Dad’s house.

Although, even that is a fuzzy memory, as you can’t remember the last time all of you sat down and had a proper breakfast as a family since Janus passed away.

It’s been too hard.

Shoving the fork into your mouth, you acquiesce, “Much better.” You hum as the flavors melt on your tongue.

The corner of Coriolanus’s lip quirk as he observes you. He returns to his seat and bends forward.

“I take it you’ve had a restful night, princess?”

“Yes, and I have you to thank for that. I don’t know what’s in that tea exactly but it works wonders.”

“I’ve had the opportunity to experiment with many natural remedies while working under Dr Gaul.” A glint dances in his blue eyes. “Some plants have the most…fascinating benefits.”

“I think I’ll take some with me home, if you don’t mind. Not just for me but Ma has struggled with sleep ever since…”

Your voice dwindles as an abrupt wave of sadness passes over you.

Tigris grabs your hand and squeezes it across the table.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

Coriolanus nods in agreement. “She’s right. Take it one day at a time, princess.”

You ponder what he just said. You are feeling markedly better today, but you loathe thinking about your mom and dad alone.

You swallow a wide lungful.

“Maybe I should go back home tomorrow.”

Coriolanus’ gaze narrows, his smile vanishing momentarily before sliding back into place.

“This early? Shouldn’t you rest a bit more first? It’s clear that you need it.” He studies you for a long time. “You can’t be here for others when you aren’t healed yourself.” You shudder. Sometimes the blond seems to possess the uncanny ability to peer right inside your head. He reaches over the table to place his hand over yours. “Don’t rush it. Like I told you before, our home is your home.”

You don’t find it in yourself to argue, Coriolanus’ gentle yet firm grip on your hand and his smile chasing away your doubts.

“O-Okay.”

Satisfaction glimmers in his gaze at your response.

As Coryo advises, you remain with his family a little while longer. Everyday, he finds gentle words to convince you to extend your stay. It doesn’t take much for you to believe him as you trust him fully, his caring demeanor reminding you of your brother. If Coryo thinks you need a bit more time, he must be right. He only wants what’s best for you.

So a few days turn into a week, which eventually becomes two weeks. Surprisingly, you and the Snows’ daily routines twine with ease. In the morning, you have breakfast together in the dining room. Then you tend to the roses with Grandma’am while she hums songs to herself, an endearing habit you’ve grown quite fond of.

And you usually spend the rest of the day with Tigris, chatting or playing board games, or on your own, reading most of the time. Coriolanus’ library is massive enough to rival the one you have at home. You never run out of things to do in the gigantic penthouse, even sometimes cleaning and cooking to pass the time, efforts Coriolanus never fails to praise you for.

Whenever he returns home to a spotless house or one of your delicious meals, his blue eyes light up with happiness.

And of course, at night, Coryo talks to you in your bed while you dutifully drink your tea, regaling you with stories about his apprenticeship and the University. Most of the time, you never get to learn how they end because you fall asleep.

Thanks to Coriolanus’ herbal mixture, your sleeping schedule is back to relative normalcy. The only downsides are the tea’s peculiar side effects, as near everyday you wake up sore and aching. But the slight inconvenience is minor compared to the benefits you’ve experienced.

All is good and well until one day glimpses of lost memories flash in your brain.

You’re starting to remember the night of Clemensia’s party.

It first happens as you’re gardening with Grandma’am. You’re watering one of the rose bushes when something rushes back to you, something so vivid the watering can in your hand clatters to the ground.

You stumble back, your breaths quickening. Placing a hand between your shoulder blades, Grandma’am helps you find your way to a nearby bench. You collapse atop the bench, your mind whirling.

Her wrinkled features crease in concern.

“Are you alright, sweet girl? Should we call a doctor?”

“I’m fine, grandma’am. Just got dizzy for a bit.”

You smile, hating that you just lied to the older woman. You’re not fine. You’re starting to remember things, things that don’t match up, make no sense.

Terrible things.

I knew you’d feel just perfect around me.

Chills bounce across your spine. Your fingers tighten around the edge of the bench as your breath flows back to your lungs.

You come to a decision.

You need to talk to Coriolanus.

Your brows squeeze together in frustration as the balding man checks your pulse and shines a light in your eyes again. It’s the third time tonight. Coriolanus insisted upon it.

“I told you there was no need for a physician, Coryo.”

“Grandma’am said you almost passed out,” the blonde retaliates.

You heave out a deep exhale as you glance at Tigris and Grandma’am standing nervously by the wall. They’re wearing the same concerned expression.

You wished Grandma’am hadn’t made such a big deal of your little moment in the garden. You feel fine…well, physically at least.

You flash a feeble smile at Coriolanus.

“I didn’t…it was just a dizzy spell. Nothing honestly.”

Brows knitting, he turns to the bespectacled older man at his side.

“Doctor?”

As the man nearly approaches you again, you shoot him a warning glare. You refuse to be poked and prodded once more. Lifting his hands, the man falls back.

He adjusts the stethoscope around his neck.

“I see nothing wrong,” he says. Your shoulders sag in relief. “Still, I’d recommend that your wife takes it easy, sir.”

His words make every hair on your skin stand on end.

“I’m not his wife,” you snap.

Coriolanus’ jaw ticks.

He turns to the others and instructs, “Everyone, leave us alone.”

There’s a flicker of hesitation on Tigris’ face. She lingers at your doorstep after Grandma’am and the doctor take their leave.

“Are you really sure that you’re okay?” she asks.

You purse your lips. “I’d feel better if everyone stopped fussing over me.”

She nods before leaving as well.

As soon as the door to your bedroom closes, Coriolanus sinks to one knee in front of you. He takes your hands in his, his thumbs brushing circles into your skin.

His cobalt eyes are wide and worried.

“Is something wrong?”

Your stomach knots. “Coriolanus…”

“Yes?”

You draw your hands back, placing them on your lap. His gaze tracks the tiny motion and he squints.

“That night…” You lick your lips, nerves flaring as your fingers bounce. Just these two words have Coriolanus’ attention on you sharpen in a way that turns your blood to ice. Still you gather your courage and continue, “Did I say no at any point, tried to…stop it? Did…Did you, Coryo?”

The moment your doubts are uttered aloud, you loathe yourself. It’s an awful thing to even suggest. But you can't shake the feeling that there is something Coriolanus isn’t telling you.

And maybe you always felt that way, like something isn’t quite right, but you craved so badly to have a piece of your brother near that you ignored the glaring signs.

Shock paints Coriolanus’ handsome face.

“What? I already told you everything that happened, that I was drunk, we both were.”

You peer at Coriolanus. It hurts. So goddamn much. A knife twisting in your chest, again and again. Especially that look of utter betrayal on his face. You don’t want to casually toss those kinds of accusations at your friend.

But your mind…

It’s bursting at the seams, moments you’re beginning to recall seeping through the cracks. You can’t ignore that. Not the sick echo of Coriolanus’ lustful tone. Not the terrifying glint swaying in his blue eyes. Not the way he panted and grunted above you as you told him to stop. Or at least you think you told him?

You’re not even sure. You’re torn. Coriolanus wouldn’t do that…right? Someone you trust. Someone Sejanus trusted…with you.

Tears swell in your eyes, threatening to break past the confine of your lashes.

Anger flashes in Coriolanus’ eyes. “Really?” he scoffs, bolting to his feet. “You don’t trust me?”

He blurs in your tear-stained vision, distorting to hazy colors you don’t recognize anymore.

“Coryo…” you sob.

He hunkers in front of you again. The anger vanishes, making space for disappointment and sadness.

He cradles your face, his tone softening.

“I would never hurt you,” he mumbles. “How could you even imply…after everything I’ve done for you.”

A shaky breath flutters through your lips. You search Coriolanus’ face, hoping to find something. A truth, an emotion, a lie. Anything, really. Any proof that you’re not crazy, that your mind isn’t just spinning wild stories out of thin air.

Nothing comes up. Coriolanus’ face is a perfect mask of genuine concern and sincerity, right down to his glistening gaze. Doubts even begin to creep inside you beneath his intense stare.

But the longer you look into his eyes, the more unnerved you grow.

Something is off. No one can convince you otherwise. Not anymore.

Goosebumps erupt all over your skin.

“I-I think I need to go home now, Coriolanus.”

You don’t want to be here anymore, in this house you don’t know, with this man…you’re beginning to realize you don’t know either.

You want to be back home, your real home. You crave the safety of your own bed, of Ma’s warm embrace, of the familiar walls of your childhood home.

Instead of acknowledging what you just said, Coriolanus flashes you a bright grin.

“We can discuss it tomorrow.”

A sinking feeling spreads through you. You frown.

“But Coryo-”

He leans to place a tender kiss on your forehead and you freeze. Every cell in your body longs to flinch away from him but gut-gripping fear keeps you in your spot.

“Tomorrow, princess,” he whispers. He fondles your cheek. You can’t tamp down your shudder. Coriolanus’ brow pinches as he gets to his feet. “It’s getting late. You should go to bed.”

Coriolanus heads for the door.

“Sweet dreams,” he coos, smiling. But it doesn’t reach his eyes.

When the door slams shut, a sound you never heard before echoes from outside. The sound of a key slotting and turning inside a lock. The kind of sound suggesting you’re now trapped in the room.

Your gut sinks.

You find yourself wondering; will tomorrow ever come?

#dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games #coriolanus snow x reader #dark!coriolanus snow x reader #tbosas fanfiction

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faetreides · 1 month

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summary: king!aegon ii targaryen x afab rhaenyra’s child!reader

cw: CANON TYPICAL incest/targcest, boot worship, free use, public, voyeurism/exhibitionism (non con on the guards part 💀), hints of reader being just as much of a weirdo i’m sorry (rhaenyra can’t blame them tho), used a valyrian translator so if there’s any mistakes no there’s not <3, fucking on the iron throne as a celebratory end of work day thing, everything is 100% consensual on reader’s part, one use of “whore”, aegon’s pet names are all food related 🥴 (deadass almost had him call reader beer for the joke)

wc: 888 (🎱✨)

block & move on if uncomfortable !!

do not repost, translate, or give ai my work

last hotd fic for a bit bc i’m out of ideas

kinktober masterlist

“Ry paktot, ilagon ao jikagon, jorrāelagon (all right, down you go love).”

You and your uncle Aegon have the strangest end of day ritual. It always starts with you being shoved on your knees, his hands cradling your shoulders to protect you from the sharp iron throne.

All others are sent away from the room, save for a few guards that had been eyeing your body far too much for his liking. You were yet to be married but numerous whispers of your sexual exploits ran through the castle like wildfire. Aegon II Targaryen, was a king that one could not even sneeze in front of for fear of setting him off. So he is careful to keep those shrews' musings away from you, it was a feat of strength to coerce you into being as bold as you are now.

“Come now, elilla (honey). Clean my shoes so i can give your cunt the fucking it deserves.” He orders you, and you are all too eager, especially with the eyes of the uncomfortable guards on you.

You pray to the Gods that Aegon does not catch them looking with their peripheral vision, pausing your fun to murder more of the staff would really rain on your parade.

The shoes of your king are cleaned before you put your tongue to them, something that you’re almost disappointed by at this point. You are tempted to ask him to turn away the shoe shiner for next time.

His crown has the same red haze surrounding it that lives deep within Aegon, and it commands your attention all the same. You let your eyes softly fall shut as you run your wet tongue along the edge of his boot. The metallic tang has become an old friend, as well as any paltry specs of blood you find. You fear that you could possibly develop a craving for it.

You prostrate yourself before your betrothed as if you were a humming bird that had come face to face with Balerion himself. A house kitten mewling for the attention of a tiger. It is not unlike performing a blow job. Your lashes become the sheer curtains you look out of and your mouth fulfills its purpose.

You flatten your tongue and begin to dip into the crevices, getting every inch of his shoes slick with your spit. Aegon has his weeping cock in the firm hold of both of his hands, and he times his strokes to every flick of your tongue.

Your “services” last for what feels like an eternity. Your uncle’s eyes wander to keep the forcibly voyeuristic guards in check. You can hear their feet shuffling on the ground as they squirm behind you, and Aegon is so pleased by this that he returns his attention to his beloved pet.

“Prūbres (apple), that is quite enough. Come back up, darling.” He says while gingerly rubbing the heel of his boot into your cheek.

“Yes, qȳbor (uncle).”

You clamor into his lap, taking the initiative by lifting your previously stretched hole over his cock. One of his hands claws into the flesh of your hip to steady you, and the other positions his cock upright. Once you get past the pink tip, your walls are snugly wrapped around his entire length in seconds. You both groan as he bottoms out. Aegon wastes no time and digs his nails into your other hip, lifting you off of his cock until the tip catches against your entrance and swiftly dropping you back down.

“My whore, a jewel worth more than any found in my crown.” The word comes out between gritted teeth, but the thumb drawing loose circles on your pearl is kinder. “Not one of those filthy dogs will ever know the pleasure of a cunny as sweet as the one made for me.”

“They will not.” You whined, relishing in the red marks his nails were no doubt leaving on your jiggling ass as you bounced on his girthy cock. “Only you, qȳbor (uncle), only my king. They could hang for all I care.”

You have an awful habit for letting words flow from your mouth with no thought of their consequences. It’s not your fault though, you muse as Aegon scratches at your moving globes of flesh, your cunt takes priority more often than not. You ignore the spark that ignites in his soul at the foolish declaration.

His thumb stops teasing your clit and rubs it harshly up and down until your rapid bouncing ceases in favor of chasing that high. He only has to spank you a single time for you to shatter around his cock with an angelic and blissfully soft moan. You let your torso fall to his and you bury your face in his neck as his other hand travels to grope your other ass cheek.

Aegon spills into you with an embarrassingly long and loud groan, licking at the pulse point of your neck as he fucks himself into overstimulation. This is the only time he will allow the guards to drink your sex in, so they can gawk at the pure amount of spend that leaks out of your ravaged cunny. He pretends not to notice or enjoy the stares, spreading your fat cheeks to give them a better view.

“Leave us be.”

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randomdragonfires · 1 month

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Pieces of a Woman | Bonus

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

SUMMARY | In the aftermath of the Battle Above The God's Eye, a mad widow weeps.

WARNINGS | 18+; Canon Divergence AU; Insanity; B&C; Gore; Delusions; Yearning; Major Character Death; ANGST.

WORD COUNT | 1.2k

A/N | Not beta read. To be read as an accompaniment to this one shot, but I suppose it works as a standalone too. Repost from my old blog.

There is a chill in the air that she does not like.

The white shift that she wore was too thin to allow her any semblance of warmth, and she is reminded of that as the cold air hits her form. Her days are long and her nights are lonely, each moment taking longer to pass than it should as she sits quietly, rocking herself back and forth with her hands hugging her knees. A loud thunderstorm strikes through the Keep - it is scary and loud enough to make her whimper and mumble into her hands.

“Aemond, Aemond, Aemond,” she repeats over and over.

Her eyes are an endless pit, having lost all their charm from months of isolated confinement. Her hands are frail, and they shake incessantly even when there is nothing within her line of sight to scare her. Her once beautiful hair is now unkempt and dry, falling around the sides of her hair like a dark, damning curtain.

Aemond loved my hair, she thinks. He always thought I had beautiful hair.

Aemond is dead.

She continues to cry, her eyes a mad, murderous red as the tears fall freely down her cheek.

Aemond would have wiped them off, she thinks. He would have kissed my forehead and told me I’d be alright.

Aemond is dead.

It is a rare moment of clarity, this moment in time. She does not have them often anymore, she knows. In times like this, she has always heard servants whispering about her apparent behaviour when she was not conscious of her being.

“Madness. She’s gone mad, the poor thing,” the servant maid had whispered outside her doors one night. “Absolute shame. She scratched the poor Prince’s face out yesterday!”

Aemond, Aemond, Aemond. Her husband, her love, hers.

Not anymore.

She lifts her hands and cries, her tears a seemingly endless stream. She had hurt the man she loved with these very hands - her nails had dried blood on them, and she doesn't know where it could have come from. Was it Aemond’s blood? She does not know. Has she been scratching her own skin out?

She stands up and screams as the words continue to ring in her weak, fragile mind. “Aemond is dead. Your husband fought valiantly, Your Grace,” the servant maid had said. In a fit of anger, she takes the book - Ten Thousand Ships - left strewn about on her bedside. She does not know who had brought it, or where it had come from - all she knows is that they did not believe her worthy enough to deliver the news to her themselves, and had sent a servant maid to relay it to her.

She was everything to Aemond. She is worth nothing to them.

The realization hits her harsher than the gust of wind that she is now trying to shield herself from as she cries and tears the book to shreds. The pages fly about before they fall to the ground like light noiseless water drops. She continues to tear at it to her heart’s content and cries, cries, cries - but it is not enough. It is never enough.

Aemond is dead.

She does not remember much from when they were married - just that she had a husband who loved her enough to keep her. Was there a son? She remembers a baby boy. Was he hers? Was he Aemond’s? Where was he?

Aemond is dead.

She grips the hem of her shift and bends down to let her head rest on the cold, unmade bed. Her sobs are muffled by the cushions as they permeate the air in groans and whines. She then sits on the same bed and continues to weep - for what, she struggles to recall - only for a moment before it hits her again.

Aemond is dead.

She does not recognize the movement of her hands as she hugs herself. Her nails dig deep into the flesh of her arms as she weeps, rocking herself back and forth once more. Her cries are loud, louder and louder still, almost as though she was shouldering the sadness of the entire Keep. How could she not, after all she had been through?

Aemond is dead.

She is a dark silhouette in a greying room, a scary sight in her shift and untamed hair let loose. The servants treat her like she is some sort of wild animal, one that they are afraid of being eaten and hurt by. She has not known the love of her family in what seems like years, and she does not remember all the nights that her husband had come to give her warmth and comfort.

Aemond is dead.

But who was Aemond?

Her thoughts fluctuate constantly - one moment she knows, one moment she does not. One moment she was in his arms, and the next she was screaming at him to let her die. Die, die, die. The words have taken over her completely in this moment and her feet carry her to the large window of their own accord. The young Princess, a new widow, steps on the ledge and watches the grounds of the city as it sleeps in the pale moonlight.

Die, die, die. Aemond was dead. Dead. Who was Aemond? Who is he? A husband. Aemond? A baby?

Her feet sway just slightly as she regains her balance, and she turns back to look around the room as she spots the torn pages. True to her madness, despite her confusion all this time, her thoughts oscillate once more. Ten Thousand Ships, a gift from… Aemond. A man who loved her more than she could even try, a man she loved back with all that she ever was.

But who was Aemond?

She breathes out raggedly, heavily, audibly - waiting for the loudness in her mind to stop as she clutches her head tight with her palms and covers her ears. But it does not, it never does.

Madwoman… wife… a son… a Prince… poor thing… once a beautiful, happy girl born in the spring… dead. Aemond was dead.

In her last moment of unhinged grief, one of the pages flies about and she remembers.

Aemond was her husband. Aemond loved her. Aemond wanted her to get better. Aemond wanted her to be safe. Aemond wanted her to love him again. Aemond wanted her to come back to him. Aemond did not want her to die.

Aemond, Aemond, Aemond…

She remembers. She remembers happy days when she had been a wife and a mother. She remembers better days when she was beautiful and happy and had a husband who worshipped the ground she walked on; in whose eyes she could do no wrong.

She remembers safe arms around her, kisses to her temple, rough thrusts into her cunt. She remembers her hands holding onto his, his warm breath fanning her face, sweet nothings whispered in her ear. She remembers him reading to her in his low voice, in rumbling whispers that made her giggle once upon a time. She remembers and knows that Aemond did not want her to die.

Die, die, die. Aemond did not want her to-

It happens quickly.

Her foot slips and she falls, falls, falls. It is seemingly never-ending and she does not scream. She makes no noise as she sees windows and bricks zoom past her, looking at them briefly at an angle she never has before. Her shift billows above her knees and her hair flies in all directions and she falls, falls, falls…

Until she abruptly lands.

The warmth of the blood pooling below her head is a last moment of comfort for her. The last thing she sees is the blurring sight of thick, viscous blood seeping through her hair, coloring the floor red.

Not my hair, she thinks with her dying breath. Aemond loved my hair. He always thought I had beautiful hair.

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dreamwritersworld · 4 months

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His daughter (sully family x reader) part 2

Y/n’s anxiety was the worse growing up, if she hadn’t done it right or if her father didn’t approve she’d panic. Anything she did was effortless and beautiful but neither of them saw that. If you challenged Y/n, she’d prove you wrong immediately.

For as long as Y/n could remember everybody loved her. She never knew exactly what it was. She just knew that she had something special, something intangible, something immeasurable, and it gave her “confidence”.

However no one knew much she put into getting all her skills in check. There was so much stress in such a young girl to please the people. She saw her father as gold at the top of the mountain and her mother’s proud smile as the sweetest item amongst Eywa creations. She wanted their approval so badly..

Y/n had scrapes and mud along side her knees and body, it only got worse as she crawled further up the small trunk of a tree. Here she was moving her fastest as she goes against Neteyam who had been given a simpler task of obstacles. She struggled to breathe through the tight space…panicking at the realization that she wouldn’t succeed

I want it, I wanted it bad

The bloodshed and exhaustion was getting to her

but there were so many red flags

When she crawled right through, Neteyam had already been rewarded, the dirtest part of him being sweat and very little mud. Y/n’s sorrow was written all over her face, that afternoon she walked home covered in mud, drops of blood and sweat..she weeped to the empty forest that night begging Eywa to give her the sweetest reward on her…to save her and have her succeed further than she could imagine..

She loved her father and his approval, she wanted it more than anyone else. He knew this, he made her dependent and knew she’d crave it. If Y/n couldn’t stay with him forever, he’d find a way so that she would. Sure, Tuk was younger but Y/n was his real baby, she had almost died on him and he wasn’t going to let her go after that.

When Y/n wasn’t with Jake, she was with Neytiri. She wasn’t only her mother but Y/n’s best friend. Their relationship was so strong. On the days Y/n was exhausted she rested her head right on Neytiri’s lap as she played with her hair, she looked like a cat, calmly sleeping in her mother’s lap. It’d be hard to decide weather she was a daddy’s girl or mamas girl…but you’d have to take into consideration that when she was with Neytiri she at least provided a sense of that peace..mamas girl. It was true, Y/n spoke very highly of her mother constantly even if she had betrayed her…

Y/n had been speaking to one of the little girls who was asking to learn about human culture that Jake had taught we her growing up..

“…mmh and Mother’s Day is the day people celebrate mommies?..”

“yes sweetheart!”

“What do you think about your mother?”

“My mom is a very important person in my life. And I think she taught me a lot of lessons in life, how to respect the public and the rest of my family. And I think it’s very important to have a mother and I want to be like her.”

Y/n’s voice was clear and you can tell she meant every word. The moment was cut short when an adult asked Y/n told aid them in healing..so she left the child alone with her mother. Neytiri’s eyes watered to her daughter’s sweet answer..

“And you? What about you?”

The young child looked dearly and innocently at Neytiri, filled with excitement to get a deeper connection between the two.

“Growing up I always told y/n to not change her way of being. You know, to all the time be humble and caring how she is with everyone..She’s a very special girl. Same as my other kids, all kids are special of course but..without her, I can’t imagine a life without her…she’s very important, she keeps my family together..”

Everything Neytiri had stated was true, Y/n made sure to develop a close relationship with her siblings. Her parents had been so connected to her and all was well with their family, as long as Y/n was there. As soon as Jake was gone she’d comfort her siblings and give them all her love. That was just the type of person she was.

Jake and Neytiri ripped Y/n apart. Their love was toxic to the child..

Jake would practically tell Y/n not to listen to her mother when she instructed her to stay behind during training and Neytiri would have Y/n sit on her lap while she cried, it may have seemed sweet until you realized that she was crying from the stress of canceling on her father and him yelling at her while her mother sat and watched..there’s no denying that she’d loved them until her final breathe.

They isolated her..

“Y/n! Y/n! Y/n! What you waiting for?”

“Please come out and play with us!”

“Y/n likes to stay in the house children..she can’t play right now.” (Neytiri)

“Oh..please let her come out and play with us now..”

“She can’t, she has important Navi’s to meet today..” (Jake)

Jake passed a smile at the young children, he heard himself say pure bliss. Y/n was being set up to meet perfect leaders that will help guide her and Neteyam as clan leaders. The child sat in silence with a saddened face, making eye contact with the children right before her father closed the curtain..

M-A-M-A-G-I-R-L

mama’s girl

D-A-D-D-Y-G-I-R-L

daddy’s girl

When it was time for dinner in the morning, Y/n ate in silence. Her eyes were red from the crying. Jake didn’t even dare to stare longer, knowing that he too was upset..

Tsireya and Ao’nung had interrupted their breakfast to let them know that they’d be ready to teach as soon as they’re ready and to meet them at their Maui. The entire family walked in silence ready to greet the Tonowari, Ronal and their kids.

Ronal was instructing Tsireya on what’d it be best to start with today..however a certain someone in the small crowd of demon bloods caught her attention. All teens were quietly discussing amongst themselves except Y/n…she was dazed and looking right past Ronal, sheeply smiling at the home.

“Y/n!..are you tired today?”

The exhaustion was practically noticeable to the healer who can feel it. Y/n immediately glanced at her father, seeing his smile had dropped and she was now frightened that he’d be upset and start an argument right then and there.

“..no.”

She passed a gentle smile, attempting for it to wash over.

“No..okay you look a little tired.”

“Perhaps, it’s all the traveling..im sorry. I can assure you , your home and island has done me good the last couple of hours..sorry.”

Ronal was satisfied in Y/n’s answer. Soon it was time to begin training and the adults and children went their separate ways.

Ao’nung didn’t know where he’d even begin to start a conversation with her…but he found a way.

“..so not tired?”

Y/n turned and laughed at his awkward attempt, smiling at his efforts, being silently grateful.

“I am, but that’s between us! Your island is very beautiful..”

“Once you get used to it, it’ll be ordinary..normal!”

“Yea..when it’s not an everyday thing, you’ll learn to appreciate it I guess. Sorry, what’s your name? Just asking so I get it right!”

“Ao’nung, and your Y/n correct?”

“Yes Ao’nung. How about we run in the water together!”

The young boy liked the way his name rolled off her tongue, she said it as though she knew him forever. Y/n made their conversation comfortable, and she even offered a good race. The rest of the practice went well and the group got awfully comfortable. Ao’nung and Y/n connected immediately. When Y/n got home that bond seemed to be the hottest topic at the table..

“How was practice today? Everyone did good?”

“Yes sir! Everyone did great, their ways are different but good to learn.”

Neteyam spoke proudly, despite his sadness about leaving his position back at home he felt good to learn new ways of life.

“..mmh im sure of that. Anything else?”

Everyone knew Jake was trying to get Y/n to talk, but her stubbornness wouldn’t allow it. She was furious with him, he had yet to feel bad about anything he said. Lo’ak however thought it’d be best to make his twin sister smile; he just didn’t realize what he was about to say would be the wrong place to bring it up.

“Ao’nung is crushing on Y/n!”

All four siblings turned to the brother, shocked that he’d bring up the topic they thought they had silently agreed not to.

“Hehe..no he’s not.”

Y/n replied with an awkward frustrated laugh and stern voice, telling her brother to be quiet.

“…Ao’nung mmh…you know you can’t y/n-“

“I never said I would.”

Jake’s face was surprised at how quick she was to talk back and he immediately got defensive.

“Well I’m ordering you not to.”

“Im not a soldier, Ao’nung and I are just friends.”

Y/n had left a distaste in Jake’s mouth that made him no longer want to speak. The family tried moving past it while Y/n stayed silent. In the back of Jake’s mind he was panicking, afraid Y/n wouldn’t focus on training and that she’d fall behind and never learn their way. All the issues would fall like dominos…if she fell behind, she wouldn’t learn, if she didn’t learn she would become dependent on Ao’nung, if he wasn’t there she wouldn’t know what to do, if she didn’t know what to do…she wouldn’t survive at all. He didn’t even take into consideration that Ao’nung was the one teaching her the way of water, he just thought of him as some boy..oh how was he so wrong..

!🎀!

REMEMBER MY INBOX IS OPEN!!!! 💕

@ruyaas-world @neteyamyanw3 @elegantkidfansoul @adaydreamaway08 @luxiniary @venomsvl

#angst #jake sully x reader #neteyam x reader #neteyam sully #avatar loak #avatar the way of water #sully family x daughter reader #spotify #soundcloud #aonung x reader

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drefear · 8 months

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Righteous and Romance

Summary: Miguel is the God of chaos, and you are the goddess of peace and beauty. an idea originally by @hrhmimieucliffe

TW: light smut, p in v.

He was inherently chaos, broad backed and straight shouldered. He was the voice dripped in red and encouraged man’s wildest desires: murder, sex, gambling, money, and more. A drowning flame, he was a mystery cloaked in anger and resentment, mirroring unease at every fine point. He was insanity and she was clever. She was butterfly kisses of the sea salt air on the beach, an afternoon sun shower with a rainbow across the bluest sky. She smelled of lavender and truth, and she sounded like honey covered dew drops on the tongue of a river. Her laughter made men fall to their knees, and so did his sword. His words made widows weep, and her words made them pray for thanks.

She was all that was good and beautiful, and he was the fire that burned beauty to the ground in a pile of rotten ashes.

They did not see eye to eye.

“A martyr, creating such victims with your gifts.” Miguel roared, his nature as God of Terror taking hold of his mind as he stormed into your garden while you tanned in the grass. One of your eyes opened to see his hulking, angered form marching towards you and you let out a deep sigh in retaliation.

“At least I am one to give gifts, as I recall you only give grief.” You sat up, fastening your silk robes around your waist as you covered your shoulders and leaned on one hand. He blocked the sun as he stood in front of you, frown cutting the corners of his mouth sharply.

“Grief builds countries, grief gives men purpose and woman motivation. What do your frilly gifts do for anyone?”

“My beauty and kindness gives all who they grace a sense of purity and happiness, of which can also build countries and give purpose and motivation. Have you ever been kind in your life?”

“No one has given me a reason to do so.” As you stood to speak to him, you felt dwarfed by his stature and fixed your posture.

“You should not need a reason to be kind to another.” You spoke back and he stayed quiet, no other words being spoken.

This was a battle of beliefs, an unspoken exchange of ideas. You stared at one another silently before he turned on his heels and stomped away.

But the truth was, at night, he worshiped your body like a loyal disciple. HIs lips ghosted over your skin as you mounted his lap, being held but one of his arms around your waist as your head fell backwards. Miguel pushed your hair off of your shoulder as he kisses and licked the top of your soft breasts, pacing himself and going slow to savor you like his last meal.

“Your body is like a peaceful night under the stars.” He whispered as your hands wound their way into his brown hair, shivering at his sweet words. “Thank you for this, for giving yourself to me, my sweet Goddess.” He thanked you, appreciated you as your bodies rocked together in harmony, a melody only the two of you would ever witness.

“My bold MIguel, let me give you everything when it is just us, let yourself fall deep into love.” You spoke against his forehead as he rolled your hips against his, buried deep inside of you as you shook with overwhelming pleasure.

“I have fallen in love, and you are my only saving grace, you are my all and nothing could compare to our intimacy. I only pray to you, I only make love to you.” His admission of true love and devotion sends waves of ecstasy to your core and makes you clench around him as you both finish. Sweat covered your features as he laid down your bare body, staying close to you and refusing to detach himself. “I will never be with another like I am with you, to the Gods I swear it.” He announced and you cupped his cheek, bruising your thumb against the stubble.

“To you, my precious Miguel, I am only my true self, and you are my purest desire, my indulgence. You are mine.” You concluded as your eyes pulled you into a black abyss and you both fell asleep, knowing that tomorrow the bickering would continue and the night would create a paradoxical love once more, between Chaos and Beauty.

#miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel smut #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel

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lissrissye · 2 months

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“𝔦𝔫𝔰𝔢𝔠𝔲𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔢𝔰…” | bungo stray dogs (bsd)

osamu dazai, nakahara chuuya, ryunsouke akutagawa, gogol nikolai, dostoevsky fyodor

🪻𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 ; you are weeping because you feel insecure… they, of course, wouldn’t leave you alone just like that. they come into the room to comfort you, attempting to reassure you and tell you just how perfect you are… because you are ! <3

🪻 𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢𝔰 ; i lowkey got this idea since i was feeling so damn insecure earlier today <3 but just remember your self worth, pooks! you’re literally worth the world, so love yourself and be confident, mi amor ! try to stay positive, and compliment yourself because you fucking deserve it !

🪻 𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 ; fluff, sweet romance, safe for work, comfort, angst

𝒪𝓈𝒶𝓂𝓊 𝒟𝒶𝓏𝒶𝒾 — 太宰治

The keys inserted in the keyhole as Dazai twists it, unlocking the door after a day of investigating tiring cases. A huff escapes his lips softly as he pushes the door open, the fresh scent of home meeting his nostrils. He slips off his tan trench coat, letting it drop off his shoulders as he hangs it on the coat rack at the enterance with the first instinct to look for you. You were his first priority.

A soft noise of a sobbing seeps from the bedroom. You were the only one in the house, so Dazai rushes to the bedroom to see your silhouette in the dim room, the gentle moonlight illuminating a soft pearly white light. He walks to your side with an empathetic frown, bending down. —“Are you okay, belladonna? Please don’t be afraid to express your worries to me, my dear.”

You slowly turn your head to your brunette lover, a quiet cry coming from you as you reach over to embrace him for comfort. Osamu obliges happily, wrapping his arms around you and nodding as you vent to him. He sees his past self in you, and he wishes to protect you… he doesn’t want you to go through the things he had to learn from. He doesn’t want you to get hurt. No, no never. —“I get it, belladonna. Keep going, let it all out and do my hold back. It will only pain you more to bottle everything up. Trust me, I know from personal experience, and I don’t want you to go through the same things I had too.”

𝒩𝒶𝓀𝒶𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶 𝒞𝒽𝓊𝓊𝓎𝒶 — 中原中也

With a glass of wine in hand, Chuuya returns from the bar after a mission complete for the Port Mafia. All he wishes is a refreshing, undisturbed 7 hours of sleep at the very least. He reaches for his keys as the keyhole accepts it with ease, the door making a soft click as it’s unlocked. He twists the handle, too lazy to even push it open, so he just uses his weight for it to swing open. He kicks off his glossy black shoes while heading inside to look for you.

—“Hmmph— pretty? Where are ‘ya…?” The executive calls out your name several times to receive no response. With a groan, he sets down his glass of liquor on the coffee table and heads up the stairs… he checks the kitchen, the living room, the restroom, the guest room… then eventually, after walking around the house, the only option was you were in your guy’s shared bedroom. Chuuya grabs into the handle and opens the door, as you didn’t put much thought into locking it.

With wide eyes, the first thing he sees is you, sitting on the cold floor while holding your knees, softly rocking back and forth. His first assumption is that someone had hurt you, though his blue orbs couldn’t discover any injuries on you. He sighs while approaching you, immediately cradling you in his arms and putting you up on the bed. —“Shhh, don’t cry… You boyfriend is here. Tell me everything, okay? Let me relive your stress and release the weight off your shoulders. You don’t have to hold it in anymore.” As you explain to ginger darling that you’re feeling insecure, he listens intensely… —“Don’t be insecure, you’re fucking gorgeous, Ma chėrie…”

𝑅𝓎𝓊𝓃𝑜𝓈𝓊𝓀𝑒 𝒜𝓀𝓊𝓉𝒶𝑔𝒶𝓌𝒶 — 芥川龍之介

After a day with Atsushi, Akutagawa was irritated and tired. He despised working with the jinko more than anything. Slowly stepping up the stairs leading up to the door, he searched his pockets for his keys. He then had to took the time to find the right key for the front door, making him grumble softly. Finally, he positioned the key with the keyhole, letting it slip in as he turned the key.

With a sigh, the Diablo placed his keys on the coffee table and bent down to remove his shoes, frequently putting it his hand over his mouth to cough. You haven’t answered his text messages, which made him quite concerned. He heard soft whimpering, as if someone tried to be silent. It came from the living room. He quickly made his way there only to find you curled up in a blanket, a pillow buried in your face. You sounded so vulnerable, dread and sorrow washing over you… Akutagawa hated seeing you like this, it pained his heart.

—“Hey— hey, hey… why are you crying? Are you hurt, are you okay? Please, please tell me…” Your black haired lover gently extracted the pillow from your grasp, cupping your face with his hands. He was silently panicking because he didn’t know how to comfort someone as he himself never experienced it except from you, so he tried to intimidate his actions. Despite being terrible at it, you appreciate it because he was attempting, and doing his absolute best to make you feel better. —“Do you want to… cuddle? Maybe eat snacks?… Erm…”

𝒢𝑜𝑔𝑜𝓁 𝒩𝒾𝓀𝑜𝓁𝒶𝒾 —ゴーゴリニコライ

After a day of annoying Fyodor and terrorizing innocent citizens for fun, Nikolai skipped to the front door and immediately started to unlock the door as quickly as he could. He created this sort of challenge for himself, how quick could he open the door everyday. Well, let’s just say Nikolai wasn’t too normal. Okay, far from the ordinary human being. With a hum, he managed to head inside in approximately 15 seconds or so. It took him a bit to decipher which key was for the door.

—“Oh, oh my little angel!~ Where are you?~ I need you to help me clean blood stains of my clothes, pretty please~ I’ll find you if I need too!~” The jester cooed your name softly, his voice reaching your ears because of the echos in the hallway. His voice was accompanied with a maniacal giggle. He didn’t bother to remove his shoes and skipped away to the restroom to one, see if you were there, and two, to wash the blood stains on his white clothes. With a soft hum, he switched the light on to see you on the ground, covering your stomach.

—“Hm?~ My beautiful dove?~” Nikolai couldn’t help but feel empathy for you, as he couldn’t lie that he felt something wash over him as he watched you in this state, all vulnerable. He bend down, first spraying some cologne to attempt to cover up the horrible stench on the blood on his clothes. —“Shhh, shhh~” He whispered softly on your ear, a bit stiff when it came to comforting you but he did his best and started to make jokes to try to make you laugh.

𝒟𝑜𝓈𝓉𝑜𝑒𝓋𝓈𝓀𝓎 𝐹𝓎𝑜𝒹𝑜𝓇 — ドストエフスキー・

A long, long day that felt like eternity with Nikolai annoying him, Fyodor was finally home. A soft grunt of exhaustion emerged from him as he checks his pockets for his keys, patting it down until he feels a bulge. He shoves his hand in that pocket and profess to find which key unlocks the front door. He makes sure not to loose it as he pushes it in the keyhole and twists it.

—“Myshka, I’m home.” The terrorist spoke softly, removing his shoes accompanied by his fluffy ushanka hat. When he noticed you aren’t running towards him as per usual, he tilts his head slightly in confusion. He walks around the house to look for you because you were acting very strange. He didn’t even have to see you to even know. As he approached the living room, he turns his head to the sofa to see two blankets covering you. You eeemed to attempt on hiding from him at first.

Fyodor did not hesitate to rush by your side. Cruel, heartless, brutal. Those were the words he received from the public as a unregretful terrorist. Though, you could argue with that just now as he scooped you up immediately and sat beside you, treating you like a princess. Fyodor could already tell what was happening as well, you didn’t have to tell him you were insecure. It made you feel better because you wouldn’t have to speak. He whispered sweet praises in your ear to show you how much of a precious treasure you are to him… —“You’re absolutely stunning and perfect the way you are, my dear… don’t change that.”

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thelov3lybookworm · 3 months

Text

Remember me? (Part 15)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

Summary: Under the Mountain, Y/n met the High Lord of the Night Court, Rhysand. She was scared of him, but soon she found out that he wasn't who he pretended to be. Despite her efforts at not falling in love with him, she fails. It's not that bad as he loves her back.

But now he's gone, and she's left alone with nothing.

Except for a very adorable reminder of him.

•○●⛦●○•

Tw: secret pregnancy, none more that I can think of, so let me know if I need to add anything.

A/n: basically filler, fully feyfey's pov, we'll get revelations in the next chapter 🫶🏻

enjoy!

•○🌑○•

Feyre's pov.

The relief that spread through Feyre was unlike anything she had ever experienced. It was her chest constricting, making it hard to breath, but it was also the first full breath she had taken in the past hour.

And that beast...

Tamlin.

Feyre did not know whether to cry in fright, weep in joy or hide in shame.

The male she had destroyed for no reason other than her mate's wishes had brought her child, her light in dark and a part of her soul, back to her, and also probably saved him from some sort of danger.

She did not know whether to beg for his forgiveness or thank him for his mercy.

And when his beast-like eyes met hers, everything stilled around Feyre.

Only for her though. She stopped hearing anything, only a high pitched ringing in her ears. Everything around her seemed to move, the room spinning.

The huge and airy space did nothing to alleviate her light headedness.

Feyre watched as Tamlin crouched low so Nyx could get off, as if in slow motion. Nyx grabbed fistfuls of Tamlin's fur, scrambling to get off, the smile on his face never faltering.

Feyre did not realise that she had stopped breathing, that tears were flowing down her face anew until her lungs screamed for air and she had no choice but to oblige.

She drew in a sharp gasp, the feeling a little painful as she watched Nyx waddle over to her. Feyre knew that the only reason Nyx was walking towards her was because Cassian and the other two were holding themselves back from picking him up.

Feyre fell to her knees, holding out her shaking hands, and Nyx's brows furrowed, his smile dropping.

"Mama? Why are you crying?"

Feyre shook her head, pulling him into her chest. "I'm not crying. My eyes are just sweating because there is dirt in them."

Feyre glanced around, realising everyone was staring at the two. Y/n and Mor were crying, while the rest of the males looked on, their faces grim.

With a start, she realised Tamlin had turned to his fae form.

He looked healthy. Healthier than he had been before.

That was all she could focus on, her mind refusing to let go of her fear and making it hard to think properly.

Nyx pushed away from her, smiling again. "You know momma, I made a new friend." He turned halfway to point at Tamlin, who looked on, curiosity shining in his eyes.

"Is that so darling? That's very nice. But how did you meet him?"

Nyx opened his mouth to speak, but then stopped, his brows furrowing. Dread started pooling in Feyre's stomach.

"I don't remember..." He trailed off.

"It's okay baby. We'll figure it out later." Feyre pushed his hair back from his face, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.

"Nyx? Are you still awake?" The sound of Fin's voice drew everyone's attention, and Feyre watched the three members of the inner circle closely.

Confusion scrunched their faces before recognition set in. Even Azriel, who was usually collected and calm, could not hide the shock at seeing another child that resembled so much of his brother.

Their wide eyed gazes swung to Y/n, who walked up to Fin and whispered something in his ear. He nodded, a determined expression on his face, before he walked over to Nyx, tugging him away. The maid that had been assigned to Fin followed the boys closely back to their rooms.

Feyre rose a questioning brow at Y/n, who simply extended a hand to help Feyre climb back to her feet. Y/n glanced around once, then whispered to Feyre. "Go with the kids. After the meeting is done, I'll bring them to Fin's room to talk." She inclined her head towards the confused Inner circle members.

Feyre nodded.

And, with a last glance at Tamlin, followed after the kids.

•○🌑○•

General Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392

Eris Taglist: @kennedy-brooke @hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter @tele86

Remember me Taglist: @holb32 @awoa1 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @luvmoo @we-were-beautiful @eerievixen @zoe2 @fussel9913 @j-pendragonx @thesnugglingduck @jesssicapaniagua @devilsnightz @esposadomd @littleffawn @mandowhatnow @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @princesslolaasworld @asemkta @cat-or-kitten @txzii @bunnyredgirl @theofficialmadman @leeknows-wife @aria-chikage @amygdtjhddzvb @azriels-mate123 @inky-clover @kemillyfreitas @12358 @justdreamstars @cuethedepession @princessvesta @fides25 @nocasdatsgay @acourtofbatboydreams @stained-glass-eyes0708 @glaciuswduo @wallacewillow0773638 @cassie6392 @quackitysdrugdealer @txzii @anuttellaa @coisas-da-dani @hnyclover @sassyslytherinshai @historygeekqueen @why4anne @mybestfriendmademe @going-through-shit @thisblogisaboutabook @thehighlordishere @hells-sluttiest-new-arrival

#eris x reader #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #eris acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fandom #acotar fanfic #acotar fluff #acotar series #acotar writing #a court of mist and fury #mating bond #sarah j maas #acotar headcanon #pro eris vanserra #acotar

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batbabydamian · 3 months

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🐱 Nightwing #110 rambling AKA wailing about how Dick and Jon love Damian

backtracking to 2 weeks ago in Titans #6 for a sec when Dick expressed how he wanted to look for Damian - it was nice to get a nod of Dick being concerned, but i was a bit bummed he didn't start a search. and i get it, the world needs saving, Dick's gotta do what he has to!!

different writer/story, but this line popped into my head the moment Babs said Earth needs the Titans

Damian means the world to Dick!! the Titans can take care of the literal world without him for a bit!!

but ykw it's fine since this issue proved me wrong, and Dick looks for Damian anyway!! 😭 basically "the world's still in danger but my brother needs me right now" this was just the start of the issue and i fell to my knees THEY BOTH REALLY DROPPED EVERYTHING FOR DAMIAN

the part where they plan to wait out Damian's match was so funny to me because Dick keeps repeating to Jon that they shouldn't engage, but then Dick just goes "NEVERMIND i'm going in" 😭 he couldn't stand watching Damian be hurt anymore i'm weeping

with context this is actually so sad for Damian orz otherwise i just wanted to say i love these drawings!! it's just a really cool page to me - i love the posing, especially in the hands/claws!! the intense expressions!! also so efficient in showing how the match escalates with Damian quickly overpowering Gail (along with seeing Jon's dread 🙁)

THEY WERE SO WORRIED ABOUT WHAT THIS WOULD DO TO DAMIAN 😭

just more panels of Dick and Jon worrying over Damian :')

DYNAMIC DUO 2.0!! and ofc they have a dramatic entrance haha

HEAD IN MY HANDS...CRYING... i'm assuming Damian's hands are still supposed to be covered in blood since the first thing he thinks about when he returns to being human is what he had done without his control. and this bothers him to the end of the issue 😭 (HIS EXPRESSIONS EVEN WITH THE MASK ON 😭)

not sure if it's intentional, but Dick's speech to Damian in B:WFA ep 113 is kinda brought to canon here through both Dick and Jon

this was a sleep deprived reactionary rambling, so not much thought is left in my head lol i was hoping for some cute cat Damian shenanigans, but i'll happily take Dick and Jon being protective over Damian! 🥺

one last duo pic for the road :)

#rambling #i have a b&r 5 ramble sitting in my drafts but I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR DUO CRUMBS SO I HAD TO YELL NOW #this made me curious about dc's copywriters bc what info do they get for some of their summaries to be so different from the actual issue #this wasn't set in Bludhaven nor was there any risk to Gotham OR the Super Sons relationship so. what do the copywriters work with.#hype and vibes alone??#maybe i'm overthinking it but i wonder if there were delays with the art or late changes made to the script/issue...?#Basri's inks are only in the first pages with Apex Ava and likely his pencils for the rest with Cifuentes as inker/finishes #what happened here...maybe he just needed to get moving to the other Nightwing issues...who knows...

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biscuitsngravie · 4 months

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"filthy."

nanami x reader

cw: nanami x reader, bondage, edging (kinda?), hair pulling, teasing, degradation, humiliation

wc: 446

Nanami's thick, throbbing dick, leaking precum on the floor in front of you. You just out of reach, tied with your hands behind your back and on your knees. You watch it subtly twitch with it's angry red tip, the slit oozing as it begs for attention. You have to watch it all go to waste and stain the floor beneath you because in his words, "Slutty little brats don't deserve my cum."

He smacks you across the thighs when he notices them rubbing together to soothe the aching in that filthy pussy of yours.

If you weren't so busy moaning like a whore you'd notice the way his own thighs tensed as he listens to you between each strike. He's just short of rutting into your air as you apologize, drawing out "Daddyyyy," like it's the only word you know. If you weren't so busy getting off on the reddening on the meat of your thighs, you might even notice the way his nostrils flair as he watches your nipples come to small peaks; the way he squeezes the edge of the arm rest on the chair so hard he's sure he'll split the wood.

It's not until you start sniffling does he take his free hand (the one not busy intermittently smacking with the riding crop) does he finally touch his weeping dick. He hisses at first, his body tightening up before it begins to relax and buck into his hand.

his teeth sink into his bottom lip as he trembles ever so slightly, increasing the pace as he chases his high. his hand isn't as tight and warm as your cunt, but watching your waiting and needy mouth desperately trying to catch what falls is almost as gratifying.

your pliable body obeys every subtle command of his grip on your hair, even when he adjusts you so that you're just out of reach of his cum. he catches a glance at the shining that's beginning to gather between your thighs and grunts as squeezes his thumb over his slit. your silent cries of "please, Daddy," are what pushes him over the edge, causing him to come right on… the floor.

you whine as you watch him pump everything mere inches away from where your knees sit in front of you, nearly breaking out into a sob. you don't even react when he drops his grip on your hair and stalks around you, untying your restraints. the only thing bringing you back to reality from the depths of your own sorrow besides the newfound throbbing of your body as it's freed is the gruff of his voice on your ear.

"now clean it up."

taglist: @yasminessims @ryomens-vixen @littlemochabunni @honeeslust @blkkizzat @arlerts-angel @halobuns

#jordussy speaks #jordussy #nanami smut #nanami x you #nanami x reader #nanami x y/n

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konigsblog · 10 months

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Toxic!Simon tracking you down, after you left cause you caught him with another girl>>>

Him then swearing he'll never do it again, and he's just so so sweet making it up to you,

Only for you to catch him cheating once again :((

i feel like this heavy so trigger warnings for mentions of simon's nephews death, and mentions of drugs;

he promised, he swore on his nephew's grave he wouldn't do it again, to be the bast man that you knew. weeks passed, everything seemed fine; he was comforting, holding your form close to his chsst, close enough to feel his thumping heartbeat, a clear sign that he was misusing drugs again.

you sighed in disappointment. it was obvious he wasn't doing well, and you knew what that meant. he only ever used weed whenever he was stressed, of course that wasn't an indication he was cheating, but the text messages on his phone definitely were. simon was knocked out cold on the couch, his chest rising and falling, his forearm covering his eyes.

a notification lit up his screen, and you couldn't help yourself. a message from a women, a name you recognized when you first caught him cheating. the messages were downright disgusting, twisting your stomach, bile rising in your throat in horror as you saw how long this had been going on for.

simon didn't want to give up his cheating life, it was a part of him now. but the thing that really stood out to you, caused tears to form in your eyes faster than your actions, was that he swore on his nephews grave. how selfish could he be? how fucking disrespectful. this wasn't the simon you once knew and loved, the one you'd comfort on his hardest days, the one you'd hold whenever he spoke to joseph's headstone, this was a monster, and you didn't recognize him anymore.

you weeped quietly as he groaned in his sleep, the side affects from the drugs wearing away. looking down at your figure. you were in hysterics, gasping for air. and still, he had the audacity to ask you what happened. “baby..? what's wrong?” his voice boomed, echoed, rotted your brain.

“what have you become, simon..” his eyes widened at your question, glancing at his phone, eyebrows knotted with anger. “why are you looking through my fuckin' phone?” it wasn't a question to answer, you avoided it, revealing your raw and glassy eyes, filled with fury. “why are you speaking to other women, simon. you promised me - you promised on joseph's grave!”

his heart was pounding, slamming against his bones, his fist clenched with rage boiling inside him. “i wish i could say that i recognize you, but i can't. you aren't the man i grew to love.” you didn't expect to see his eyes glistening, dropping to his knees before you, grasping at your thighs and attempting to pull you closer to him as he weeped.

“please, baby.. please, please, i'm so sorry-! you don't deserve this, i'll change- i swear, love.- don't leave me, i'm begging you, you can't do this..!” simon's voice became stuttered, your avoided his gaze, his once adoring and welcoming eyes were replaced with evil, scleras tinted a shade of pink, falling victim to horrible things drugs can do to you.

you shoved him off of you, grabbing the keys, a random jacket on the clothes peg and your shoes. dashing out the door whilst he desperately attempted to sway your opinion, grasping at his hair when you door slammed shut. you could hear the screaming from inside his cheap apartment, the sounds of glass shattering and smashing broke your heart.

all you wanted with the old simon riley back. the memories of the pair of your falling asleep together on the couch, your legs intertwined with eachother, the cheesy romcom blarring from the tv. you missed simon riley, not the monster that grew inside him, the one who left you in tears every night, who promised to change, yet never would, not even for you.

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schuylerpeck · 4 months

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it is winter and nothing in my house is doing well. my plants are mad at me. there's a creeping fog of fruit flies hanging by the sink. I catch myself reasoning the nutritional value of boxed wine. my dog drops his ball at my feet and all I can do is apologize. a back tooth hurts for two days and then winks a "just kidding."

it is a hard thing to realize this is all mine, all the time. the dishes. the oil change. the postcards I meant to send two weeks ago to friends I love, but can't bring myself to text back. is adulthood just upkeep? iron supplements and grocery runs. work meetings to track YoY progress where I can't help but picture my life as a flat line the past few months. it's winter. I try to remember everything seems bigger when I can't open the windows and air out my worries. that every year, my writing gets buried under the snow, only to sprout something new once the days get longer. yes, this is just mine, and it feels hard to love when I'm throwing on a few more layers to make sure it's warm, bringing tissues when it is sniffling through some flu shots, or replacing a weeping bag of spinach with a fresh one to see if this is the week we let good habits stick. this is mine. and while I'll chew through a few layers of bottom lip when the going gets rough, I'm still set on going.

I can be gentle. I can be patient. I can remember for every heavy ounce of ownership, there are moments of weightlessness in between. this is mine, to kiss the tears from my own cheeks and feel my young heart bandage its knees. even when walked slowly, there's a better I keep catching glimpses of, with no deadline of arrival.

#poetry #poems #spilled ink #journal #mental health #adulthood #seasonal affective disorder #schuyler peck #winter #seasonal depression

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kdogreads · 1 year

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Imagine being Chibs’ old lady

As ruthless as he can be, he is an absolutely softie just for you

Kisses your fingers one-by-one; your hands; your thighs; your calves; your stomach

Rubs your feet after a long day without you asking; he just slides your legs over his and works out all the tension

Tells you how pretty you are alllll the time: “My beautiful lass” & “Prettiest girl I’ve ever laid me eyes on” & “How d’ye manage lookin’ better everyday?” & “Sorry for starin’ at ya, love, I just cannae believe how goddamn gorgeous you are”

Would literally drop to his knees and worship you happily if you asked, of course you’d never, but he’d do it without a moment’s thought

Talks about you as if you’re a goddess, an angel walking the earth, and not giving a damn if the guys make fun of him for it (though they never would, they think so, too)

If you find a spider in the house

and you ask him to take it outside instead of killing it, he’ll look at you like this…

… and then take it outside. Same goes for any little task you ask for his help on, even if it’s just because you want to see his biceps flex when he lifts something heavy, or his belly peak out from his shirt when he reaches for something high. He pretends to be annoyed by your constant asking, but he loves taking care of you so damn much. He’d do anything you asked with a smile on his face.

Him calling you when the club needs your help

Medical, serving beers, hosting other charters, whatever they need. He’d call you and say:

“Hey baby”

“Hiya, love. Need yer help at the clubhouse. Tigger got bit by a damn doped-up Doberman or some shite. Hell if I know”

“Jesus Christ. Alright, keep him stable. I’ll be there as soon as I can, love”

“Wha’ would we do without ya, my angel?”

“Crash and burn, probably”

“Damn right. Love you, M'annsachd (my blessing)”

“Love you back, my Scotsman”

The club counts on your for so much, and you’re happy to help. That means you get to spend more time with your man and see him in his element. The other guys love you, too, and respect the hell out of you, knowing Chibs wouldn’t think think before chopping their dick off if they ever made a move on you. They tell you how much they appreciate you every chance they get.

THE ENDLESS PET NAMES

Lassie, sweetheart, hen, angel, darling, love; bonnie lass, baby, girlie, lover, sugar

Bonus: Scots Gaelic pet names

M'annsachd (my blessing), mo ghràdh (my love), mo chridhe (my heart), mo leannan (my darling/sweetheart)

After the explosion, you’re by his side every minute

When he comes to here and there during the first few hours, the only thing he mumbles is your name, like he’s desperately searching for your face in an unfamiliar crowd. You squeeze his hands and tell him you’re there, even if he slips back under just after, he knows you’re there. Even when the recovery is hard on him, you’re there to support him in every way you can. The club knows you won’t leave his side and helps fill in the gaps you usually occupy without a second thought. He credits you with his recovery, even though he did it all: “Yer my savior, mo chridhe. Cannae imagine my life wi’out you here, takin’ care o’ me, bringin’ me back ta life. You’ve given me everything. I owe you everything, my angel.”

He is the absolute sweetest with kids, your own or other members’

After Donna, Opie went off the rails and no one else had the means and patience to take care of Ellie and Kenny, so you two took them in.

He would try his best to explain to them where their mom is and that they’ll never be alone.

“Tha’s right, yer ma is heaven, in God’s golden castle, dancin’ ‘n’ singin’ wi’ the angels. You can weep, mo leannan, s’alright. Jus’ means you’ve plenty o’ love left ta give. You’ve a home wi’ us, yer da, yer granddaddy always, loves, ya understand?”

When Abel and Thomas come along, you’re always first to volunteer to watch them. You love seeing your man with the small children, always eager to play silly little games or offer a strong, warm embrace when they take a tumble on the playground.

If you have your own kids together, god, the way he loves them so fiercely but so gently just melts you. He loves to wake up with them in the night, just so he can spend a moment with them in his arms, those big brown eyes staring up at him. You’d give him 10 babies just to see that sparkle in his eye when he holds your child.

The PDA

He’s never shy to show the world how much he loves you.

Kisses on your temple as he passes by, smack on your ass while you stand at the bar, an arm snaking around your waist as you talk to some crow eaters, whistling at you as you walk towards him in the clubhouse (and you put on a little show for him, of course). He’s always finding new ways to show you how much he loves you and your body.

You become a mother figure for the girls

Crow eaters are all there with the hopes of becoming an old lady some day, and they could look at your marriage with Chibs with jealousy, but instead, they admire you. They see the way you have the freedom to do whatever you please and be exactly who you are, while still having a man who worships you just as much as you worship him, and they want that.

You tell them:

“I just got lucky, baby. I couldn’t stop loving him if I tried. You’ll find yours, too, don’t you worry.”

When it comes to the crow eaters, you’ve always known that what happens on the road stays on the road, but Chibs doesn’t even take a second look at any of the girls. He’s loyal to you in every way, even when you’ve told him it’s okay to satisfy his needs with a blowjob here or a handy there. He’d never touch anyone else that way, not without you involved, anyway. 😏

T H E S E X

This man knows how to give you everything you need and more. So much more.

You’ve been together long enough that jealousy or feelings of not being good enough have long gone out the window. You both just want to make each other feel mind-blowing, brain-fogging pleasure. Whether that is with just your two bodies, toys, bringing in thirds (or fourths, fifths…), experimenting with new kinks and locations, Chibs is willing to try anything once as long as you are into it. He’s given you pleasure like you’ve never known and you send him just as high above the earth when it’s your turn to return the favor.

You’re his comfort and his peace

After a long day with the MC, sometimes he just needs you in his arms to remember who he is and why he does it all. He tells you everything you need to know, and you’re smart enough to fill in the gaps. You know he’s done some things that he thinks are irredeemable, but you’re there to remind him he’s a good man. That’s why you love him so much.

Check out My Dove for a sweet, smutty night when he needs some comfort from you (minors please DNI).

Overall, Chibby is just the best partner you could have ever ended up with and he spends every minute of his life reminding you just how loved you are

#chibs telford #chibs telford x reader #soa imagine #kdogreads #chibs imagine #chibs smut #chibs x reader #soa fanfiction #sons of anarchy imagine #chibs sons of anarchy #soa chibs #sons of anarchy headcanon #sons of anarchy

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luveline · 10 months

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Hello! I’m usually a silent reader but OMG the zombie au 😭😭 this series hits me right in the heart, but honestly everything you post is amazing!! You’re such a talented writer that your words create feelings, not just images, and they’re the most comforting, relatable, and heart wrenching all at once. No pressure, but I would love to see more of r’s recovery from her cuts! Maybe something happens when the survivors are moving that causes Steve to be extra worried? Thanks SO much either way!!

thank you so much 😭 I hope this is okay!! sry it took me ages. steve zombie au —steve looks after you again !!

You haven't been able to tell Steve why you're covered practically head to toe in little cuts beyond what you remember. Days now since the attack on The College, you vaguely remember an impact, which might explain your poor memory. Someone or something had hit you down, and when you woke it was in a pool of crushed glass, darkness like velvet enveloping the sky.

"I don't know how you did it," he says, sitting between your legs, unperturbed by your state of undress.

You're wearing a pair of mens boxers as shorts to grant him access to your sliced thighs without feeling naked. The worst stretches across your left thigh, stitched closed and weeping miserably. It's a horror —the cut isn't bad but the infection is, and if it doesn't get better, there's going to be a problem.

"Desperate to get back to you," you say. You're not lying, but you say it like a joke.

Steve laughs and rubs your one unscathed knee gently.

"My poor love," he says under his breath, focusing on your stitches. He cleans around them with a damp strip of cloth poorly shorn.

He moves up with a new strip to clean the top ones. You could do it yourself, but his fussing is nice. Relaxed against a pile of bed rolls, your arms crossed to avoid touching your stomach, which is also blanketed in cuts, you wince as Steve grows closer.

"Can we take a break?" you ask.

"Yeah." He puts down the bowl of linen strips and screws the lid back on the isopropyl. "Sorry, honey. I know it sucks. You've dealt with it all so well–"

"Steve, you say this to me with a sprained knee."

"It's not less true," he says, easing down with a boyish groan beside you.

He turns to you as you turn to him, actual dirt on his cheek, stubbly and waxy in the dusk. You rub at the spot of dirt unhappily. He lets you touch him without complaint.

"Sorry I'm a mess."

"As long as you come back to me," he says. "I don't really care how much of a mess you are."

"Don't, baby." You rub your face into his shoulder, feeling the muscle of his bicep under your palm. You don't want him to be nice to you like that, not while your skin is stinging like this and you're still feeling hopelessly terrified of the uncertain future again.

"I gotta. I'm playing the romantic, doting love interest in our book."

"What book?"

"One I'm gonna write. Me and you and Robin at the end of the world," Steve says, dropping his head on yours.

"Who's gonna read the book?" you ask quietly.

"Everyone. When the world gets back on its feet again and the next generation wants to know what it was like, they'll have a great answer. Boy falls in love with girl destined to be constantly injured and reluctantly taken care of."

"Ah, but I'm not reluctant," you say.

"I can do your other leg?"

"No," you whine.

"That's reluctance."

You sit together for a while.

"You have to let me finish," he says firmly.

"I know… just. I love you," you say quietly. It's hard to explain it, but sitting with him as you are in the corner of a crowded room, it doesn't matter where you are, because you're with him. All these cuts and bruises don't mean a thing.

"I love you, too." He wraps his arm around your shoulders. You wish you could see his face, but this is nice.

"Do you ever worry we say it too much?"

"No." He turns his face into the top of your head. "This is the right amount. But you can definitely tell me again, if you're worried."

You thumb along a scabbed cut. "I love you. Thanks for taking care of me."

"You're welcome. And you can make it up to me. I want a neck massage, you know, where you dig into my literal bones and–" he imitates a cracking sound.

"I don't know why you like it so much."

"Cos it's you doing it. Deal?"

You sigh. Somehow, you feel as though you might have taken the short end of the stick. "Deal."

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

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daydreaming-en-pointe · 3 months

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the swan and her princess (part 1)

summary: Swan Lake isn’t all beauty and grace, contrary to popular belief. And you experience firsthand that as you wage a one-sided war with your “rival” for the role of the Swan Princess, Odette.

pairing: Gwen Stacy (Spider-Woman) x fem!Ballerina!Reader

word count: 842

warnings: uses of Y/N, lots of ballet terms and references, the teacher displaying blatant favouritism ig?, mildly petty reader 💀

a/n: I finally got around to doing it! yay :D academic rivals to lovers ftw honestly

gearing up for my first official chapter-based fanfic WHOOOOOOOOO

dividers by me btw! it’s my first time doing dividers so any feedback would be appreciated <3

part 1 // part 2 (pending)

glossary:

Swan Lake: Swan Lake, Op. 20, is a ballet composed by Russian composer Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky in 1875–76. It is now one of the most popular ballets of all time. The ballet is based on a German fairy tale, and tells the story of a prince named Siegfried who falls in love with Odette, a princess who has been turned into a swan by an evil sorcerer

Odette: Odette is the main female protagonist in the ballet "Swan Lake," which is composed by Pyotr Tchaikovsky. She is the White Swan, also known as the Swan Princess/Swan Queen.

Anna Pavlova: Anna Pavlovna Pavlova was a Russian prima ballerina of the late 19th and the early 20th centuries. She was a principal artist of the Imperial Russian Ballet and the Ballets Russes of Sergei Diaghilev. (basically, every ballerina’s idol)

first position: In the first position, the heels are together, with toes turned out until the feet are in a large, open V or a straight line.

relevé: Relevé is a French term meaning "raised up." It is one of the basic ballet moves. The dancer starts in a demi-plié (a move where the dancer bends their knees halfway while keeping their feet on the ground) and then rises up into demi-pointe (on the balls of the feet) or en pointe (on the toes), either on one foot or both feet.

“Let’s take it from the top, Y/N. More turned out this time. And your ‘wings’ aren’t flowy enough. You are the very Swan Princess, not a struggling cygnet. You die gracefully.”

You blew air threw your nose a little more forcefully than you usually would, trying your best to follow your ballet teacher’s instructions.

“Ah, Gwendolyn! So nice of you to join us.”

That statement was usually used sarcastically in most settings. So why did your teacher’s voice take on a note of adoration? You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, not even looking at the new arrival. All she ever did was drop into class half an hour late - without even doing her hair in a proper bun - and get showered with praises for everything she did. Always Gwen this, Gwen that. You were so sick of it.

“Gwen, if you decide to try out, you would be a perfect fit for the White Swan,” Your teacher eagerly told her, and your ‘flowy feathers’ tightened into fists. Just brilliant. In her eyes, you had no chance at Odette, did you? Once again, Gwendolyn Stacy would swoop in and snatch up something you had worked so hard for, spending hours upon hours on late nights at the studio practising alone, all because the teacher thought she was the next Anna Pavlova. But every time, you bit your tongue and kept your head down. One day, you would show them. You would show them all how good you were. And little Gwendolyn Stacy, the number one teacher’s pet, would watch and weep.

You cleared your throat to jolt your teacher out of her rambling. “Miss? My audition?”

She blinked as if she were just noticing you. “Ah, right. Yes, you may continue.”

You were ready to hurl your pointe shoes at both of their annoying faces, but you focused on making yourself extra turned out and extra graceful. Oh, how the tables would turn when you got this role.

You risked a glance out of the corner of your eye and noticed with a smug satisfaction that Gwen was staring at you, eyes wide. Completely enthralled.

Ha-ha, Gwendolyn Stacy. Look upon actual, hard-earned talent and despair.

You finished the Dying Swan - the Swan Lake piece you were doing for your audition - and bowed, standing in first position with your head held high.

“Thank you, Y/N. That was very nice. Everyone, let’s get started. Get your shoes on and get into your positions at the barre, please.”

Ugh, the barre positions. Your arch-nemesis, apart from a certain Gwen Stacy. Well, maybe not apart from her, since your barre position was right in front of her.

“One, two, three, four - hold, two, three four…”

You tuned out the voice of your ballet teacher; the exercise was purely muscle memory to you by now, and her voice was only distracting you at the moment.

“Hey, Y/N.”

You were pulled out of your intense focus by the voice behind you. Once you realised who it was, you had to resist the urge to scoff. “What is it?”

“I, uh… I just wanted to say that you did amazing. It was very graceful. You’ll make a good White Swan.” That almost made you lose your balance in a relevé and twist your ankle, because what?

Gwen Stacy thought that you’d get the role?

Oh. That was new.

Or maybe it wasn’t, and you were just imagining the whole ‘undeserving slacker’ thing and painting her as the bad guy…?

You almost giggled at that. Nah. This was definitely some ploy to get you to relax a little, to stop practising almost obsessively. Yeah, she was just trying to ensure you weren’t a threat. The moment you let down your guard, she would snatch up the role of Odette. You just knew it. Well, she could try all she wanted; you would not make it easy for her.

“Oh, I know,” You replied coolly, ending the exercise with everyone else and turning to offer her a politely bored smile. “But thank you.”

Gwen’s smile dropped a little and her eyebrows scrunched together slightly, her piercings glinting in the studio’s warm light. “Okay, well… I’ll see you around, I guess.”

She reached down and grabbed her duffel bag, unceremoniously dropping her teal pointe shoes into the mess of clothes and who knows what else she kept in it.

You kept your eyes on her until she disappeared out the studio’s door after a quick goodbye to the teacher. She was like a ghost, always appearing and flickering out just as quickly as one. And somehow always getting away with it, every single time. Not to mention… she was also somehow really good. Despite missing classes and coming late.

“Remember, class. Now that I’ve seen all your auditions, the roles will be up next week. Don’t be late,” your teacher called as you all left the building.

You kissed your teeth in annoyance. Yeah, don’t be late. Unless you’re Gwen Stacy.

Good grief, that girl would be the death of you.

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